How I took care of myself while covering stories of domestic violence similar to my own

Every story carries the weight of the raw emotions of those willing to share their experiences, and calls for the reporter to honor the trust of their sources — while seeking the truth. The emotional toll is a constant companion, as is the pressure to ensure that reporting amplifies voices rather than exploits them. This work demands not just skill, but care, empathy and a commitment to ethical storytelling.

It becomes especially challenging when the topic or person interviewed shares experiences strikingly similar to your own. When I reported on my recent story, “Fresno County has one of the highest rates of domestic violence. How survivors can get help — and how to help the helpers,” I interviewed multiple domestic violence survivors where we delved deep into their descriptions of survival, resilience, and navigating systems for help. 

One person’s experience in particular felt familiar to my own personal story and I was left grappling with a mix of thoughts: “Did you somehow read my mind?” Also: “How can I report on this with the objectivity it deserves?” The truth is that objectivity is a myth — you can’t report without some level of personal perspective, and that’s OK.

My recent story delves into the increasing demand for domestic violence services in Fresno County, the systemic barriers that hinder progress, and the underlying factors driving these challenges. Through the collaboration of local nonprofits and churches with the county’s only dedicated domestic violence shelter, survivors have begun to receive better care through housing, financial assistance, and other essential resources.

I interviewed a woman named Ruby, who worked at Evangel Home, a faith-based organization in Fresno that supports women and children in crisis. While I didn’t dedicate much space to her in the story, we spent over an hour together as she detailed her abuse, recounted the backstory and timeline, and navigated through the raw emotions that surfaced during the conversation. I naturally comforted her during moments that were especially hard to talk about — even though sharing her story is a regular part of her job to inspire and support other women. 

Ruby shared that talking about her story in a different setting with a reporter felt strange to her. I quickly reassured her that I’d feel the same if I were in her shoes, especially since her story closely mirrors my own. 

When a reporter is covering sensitive topics, they may not initially consider how it’s affecting them — until the impact unexpectedly surfaces. That’s usually the case for me. 

I’ve previously written about a global religious sect with a history of child sexual abuse. I spent hours on calls and in-person conversations, delving into the harrowing, graphic details of survivors’ experiences. Even when the topic takes a more hopeful turn — like when I spoke with a trans person about their journey crossing the border to the U.S., enduring harassment but ultimately finding safety and community at a local LGBTQ+ center — the weight of their story lingers. Especially now, as they and others fight discrimination under the looming specter of a second Trump term, the stakes feel relentlessly high.

Fortunately, I have a strong support system both at work and in my personal life, but it’s still challenging. I also lean on activities that bring me comfort but also turn to tools specifically tailored to the unique demands of journalism like the American Press Institute’s “Journalists and mental health: An API resource guide,” or The Dart Center’s wealth of resources on trauma, self-care and peer support. 

Journalism, particularly when covering sensitive topics, demands a significant emotional investment. It’s crucial to find a balance between reporting and acknowledging its personal impact. It’s vital to safeguard your mental and emotional well-being. 

Here’s a few lessons and reminders that this story taught me:

1. Your editor should be your rock.

When covering sensitive issues like domestic violence, having an editor who understands the weight of the subject and actively works to support you can make all the difference in maintaining both the quality of your work and your well-being. Throughout my reporting on domestic violence, my editor's constant check-ins were invaluable. He consistently asked if I needed anything — whether it was access to additional journalism resources, connections to experts, or simply encouragement to take a much-needed break. This level of support made tackling such a difficult topic manageable and allowed me to focus on producing a thoughtful, in-depth piece. 

2. Small doses of self-care are better than none at all.

Journalists are constantly immersed in their work — whether it’s juggling multiple stories or reacting to every breaking news alert on our phones. This was my experience as I juggled multiple long- and short-term projects alongside this one. There were times I doubted I’d find survivors willing to speak with me or felt stuck as my story naturally evolved into something different from what I originally pitched.

Finding time for self-care felt impossible, but I realized that even small moments of rest are better than nothing at all. Small acts of self-care can look like catching up with a friend for 10 minutes or even treating yourself to a really good breakfast burrito.

3. Pay attention to your body.

I know I tend to carry a lot of tension in my shoulders when I’m writing about difficult topics. The physical strain can often go unnoticed as the mental weight of the subject matter takes precedence. But paying attention to your body is crucial — it’s your first signal that stress is building up. I began practicing yoga more regularly, taking more breaks, and working on letting go of the guilt that came with them. Being mindful of where I was holding tension also made a big difference in helping me prevent burnout.

4. You’re human, and trauma can affect you, whether you’ve experienced it personally or not.

I’ve made it a habit to preemptively talk to my therapist about how a story such as this one could impact me even if it might not, just to have a plan in place for supporting myself. I also regularly reach out to journalism friends who have covered similar stories, seeking their support and guidance as I navigate through my own reporting process. It’s helped me realize that it’s important to acknowledge those effects from stories, seek support when needed, and take steps to care for your mental and emotional health while continuing your work.