Dear Editor,

After Hurricane Melissa’s fury Jamaica’s collective heart has opened wide. From volunteers loading trucks to community leaders coordinating shelters, many have spent sleepless nights ensuring others are fed, clothed, and comforted. Yet, amid all this giving, an uncomfortable truth that is often ignored lingers: Those who are helping most are also hurting.

The devastation across some parishes is beyond words — roofs gone, schools flattened, and families displaced. But emotional exhaustion doesn’t respect geography. Even those spared physical loss can be spiritually depleted. And for our caregivers, social workers, first responders, journalists, and everyday volunteers, the impulse to “keep going” and showing up for others can quietly erode their own well-being.

We’ve all heard the flight attendant’s instruction: Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. In disasters, that’s not a metaphor, it’s survival psychology. If you can’t breathe, you can’t help. Support providers often give so much that they start sharing their own air. They offer the last of their strength, meals, money, or mental energy until nothing is left. It may feel selfless but, in truth, it’s unsustainable. Overextension leads to burnout, compassion fatigue, and eventually resentment— none of which help the recovery effort.

Self-care, then, is not selfish. It’s strategic. By caring for yourself you model balance for others. You show that recovery includes rest, nutrition, grooming, laughter, and reflection. You become a living example of what healing can look like.

Helping can also feed a quiet psychological trap: the saviour syndrome — the belief that you must personally rescue everyone. It often begins with good intentions but can lead to exhaustion and guilt when you realise you simply can’t do it all. Ask yourself: Am I helping because I’m needed or because I need to be needed? This honest self-check helps you distinguish between compassionate service and emotional over-identification. Sustainable giving requires boundaries, not just bravery.

Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do for those in shelters is to step away from them. Removing yourself from the devastation, even briefly, allows the nervous system to reset. A change of scenery — driving to a parish that isn’t completely destroyed, sitting by the sea, or spending a quiet evening with family — helps restore perspective.

You’re not abandoning the cause; you’re preserving your capacity to return. Those moments of pause prevent emotional numbness, which often develops after prolonged exposure to trauma and loss. Enjoy the time away without guilt. It’s okay to laugh, eat well, or even get your hair done, go to the barber. Simple routines re-anchor you to normality.

Practical tips for relief leaders and volunteers includes:

• Schedule rest periods — build rotation into relief schedules. No one should be on the front line every day

• Pair up for accountability — assign a wellness person who checks if you’ve eaten, hydrated, or taken breaks

• Keep perspective — you cannot attend to everyone all the time. Focus on realistic daily targets

• Plan, don’t panic — coordinate donations and trips to conserve resources

• Stay nourished — Take vitamins, eat properly, and hydrate regularly

• Limit exposure — Avoid excessive distressing videos or conversations

• Seek support — Emotional debriefings and professional counselling are vital

• Celebrate small wins — Every meal served or roof repaired matters

It’s easy to feel guilty for missing a trip or skipping a distribution drive. But remember: You were spared for a reason — to help strategically, not endlessly. Re-channel guilt into organised service, advocacy, or awareness-raising. What matters is consistency, not constant presence. In times like these, pacing yourself is an act of wisdom. This is not a passing wave to ride out, but a long tide of rebuilding that requires patience, unity, endurance, and care. Jamaica will need you steady, not spent.

Hurricane Melissa has shaken our foundations, both the ones built of concrete and the ones built of courage. As we rebuild let’s remember that strength and self-care are not opposites, they’re partners. When you rest, others learn that rest is allowed. When you eat, others are reminded that life continues. When you take care of you, you inspire hope. So, yes, Jamaica, keep giving, but breathe first. Put on your mask before you give away your air.

Dr Olivia Rose

Advocate for the mental wellness

oliviakrose@yahoo.com