Caitlin Constantine: Journalism and emotional trauma

Caitlin Constantine
PHOTO from Facebook

My average workday involves writing several news stories, and as anyone who watches the news can attest, most of them will not be happy stories. There are the occasional feel-good spots about people who make the most of tough circumstances or break world records, but for the most part, I spend my time writing about the worst days in people's lives.

Caitlin Constantine, journalist and writer owns her troubles in her blog.

If you end up in the news, it's more likely you are there because of some unimaginable horror than because of something amazing you did.

It's difficult not to be affected by the work we do as journalists, although most of us have developed ways to cope. We make inappropriate jokes, we keep a bit of distance, we harden our shells, we don't linger too long on the details. Some of us drink a lot or smoke.

If we allowed the full impact of the stories we cover to penetrate our hearts, we'd never get anything done. So we find ways to protect ourselves.

But some stories still manage to penetrate the carefully constructed defenses. Obviously, reporters and photographers who are actually out there are most vulnerable. Poynter Institute recently ran a column about a New York Daily News reporter who suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder after one of the WTC towers collapsed practically right on top of him.

Jim Nachtwey
PHOTO from
The Digital Trekker 

Also, war photographer Jim Nachtwey has candidly spoken about the way his experiences have isolated him from other Americans. It's understandable - I cannot imagine taking photographs of a legless Indonesian man whose family lives on a piece of cardboard between two train tracks, then returning to the comfort and privilege of the average American existence.

In the face of the trauma faced by those front-line journalists - not to mention the people who actually have to live with such things in their daily lives - it seems a bit petty to talk about the way this work affects those of us who are stuck in the newsroom. We are so insulated. If we see blood and suffering, it's second-hand, through raw video footage and photographs. We don't hear the screams. We don't see the tears. We don't smell the fire.

Even so, there are times when I find myself haunted by the stories I work with. There are times they keep me up at night. There are times I hide in the bathroom stalls, sobbing uncontrollably, because I just cannot believe the amount of suffering that exists in the world.

I might be particularly susceptible to this simply because I've been a victim - and am now a survivor - of violent crime. The things I've experienced are all too common in this world, which means media alerts, press releases and arrest affidavits that essentially force me to relieve some of the most traumatic events of my life pass through my hands on a near-daily basis.

For the most part, I am good at shutting down and doing my work, which involves running the copspeak through a human translator, then rearranging the events so they come together as a readable, coherent story. It also helps that I am far along in my own healing process. I no longer have nightmares or grind my teeth in my sleep. Occasionally things will trigger a tightness in my chest - perhaps a name, or a pair of glasses - but for the most part, I'm okay.

But sometimes a story slaps me so hard in the face that I am unable to breathe. The details are too similar, the circumstances too familiar, and I have to step away from what I'm doing. The fear and pain come flooding back as I sit at my computer, and I find myself having a tiny emotional crisis in the middle of the newsroom.

Anyone who works in a newsroom knows, it's about the last place you want something like that to happen. It's embarrassing, and I can't help but feel unprofessional when it happens. And then I feel even worse, because sometimes I think I'm the only one who goes through this. (Which I know statistically cannot be true.)

So I was relieved to read an essay from Doug Fisher at the University of South Carolina's j-school about the oft-ignored trauma faced by those who work at copy and photo desks.

In the essay, he shares the stories of a few newsroom-bound journalists who have been traumatized by Hurricanes Katrina and Hugo and the explosion of the space shuttle Columbia, and how they coped.

Simpson said managers must watch for indications of stress among those they supervise: exhaustion, anxiety, tearfulness, abnormal anger and upset stomach among them. They also need to know more about what those people have been through.

"I think a lot of managers fail in this respect because they don't know the personal backgrounds of the people they work with," he said.

Cox, the Journal-Constitution's presentation editor, said everyone has a story to tell, so let them tell it. Simpson, too, encouraged conversation, but warned against forcing people to say how they feel. But to start those conversations may take a culture shift in many newsrooms, he said.


Our jobs as journalists demand distance in order for us to do them professionally and ethically, but I think we also need to realize that sometimes it is just not possible to meet such a standard. After all, we are people, too.

Much has been written about our political biases and how those come into play with our jobs, but less is said about our personal backgrounds and how those might affect us as journalists as well. And when you break down the statistics of rape, child molestation, domestic violence, assault, murder - you realize that odds are likely that at least one person in the newsroom has been touched by these things.

I'm not saying the job needs to change, or that anyone needs to feel sorry for the survivors, or anything like that, but I do think that more understanding and awareness of what it means to be a survivor working in this industry is in order. The newsroom tends to be a gruff place filled with hardened people, and it is that way because the job demands it, but sometimes, gruff and hardened are the exact opposite of what journalists need. Sometimes a bit of sensitivity, a bit of humanity is required to help us get through our jobs.

(It reminds me a lot of one of the problems with the cult of masculinity, how it demands that men act like they don't have feelings and how it never gives them room for grief or sorrow. The end result is that those emotions often find expression in unhealthy, damaging ways, like anger, violence or substance abuse. It's far better to honor the emotion than to pretend it doesn't exist.)

It's a job with a high burnout rate without taking the survivor factor into consideration. More support for those who need it can only be a good thing, not just for the individual, but for the industry as a whole. The field needs people who are sensitive to the issues faced by victims, who will treat them with dignity and respect, who will not see them as fodder to fill the news hole or the wheel. The more support available for people like that in this field, the better off we all will be.