The Silent Weight We Carry: Suicide’s Impact on Mental Health Professionals

I am a Registered Mental Health Nurse, qualifying in my 20’s with over 20 years of experience working across diverse settings in Northamptonshire. Currently, my role is as Service Manager within the crisis pathway, where I help lead the first points of access to mental health support—a role that continues to challenge and inspire me every day.

At the age of 46, I’m proud to have recently qualified as an Advanced Clinical Practitioner after three years of study at Coventry University, something I had wanted to do for a long time, I have a passion for continuous learning in order to provide effective care delivery. Alongside this, I am a Storm Skills Training Consultant, delivering suicide and self-harm prevention training both within my trust and across the UK.

Outside of work, life is just as full—I am a mum to four and a grandmother to two, which keeps me on my toes! In the rare moments of spare time, I have discovered a passion for running and am now setting my sights on completing my first marathon.

In this blog, I will share insights from my professional journey, reflections on mental health practice, specifically around how suicide impacts on those working within services.

As a Mental Health Nurse with over 20 years of experience, I have worked alongside countless individuals in their darkest moments. Working within the crisis pathway—where we are often the first point of contact for those in acute distress—means bearing witness to pain, trauma, and sometimes, tragic loss. Suicide is one of the most profound and heartbreaking realities we face in this field and one we can never fully prepare for; 3 years of training this was one aspect that was never spoken about, however there are ways that people get through the unbearable pain that suicide can leave and people including professionals find ways to survive.

A personal reflection

For me personally, the impact of suicide hits harder than you can ever be prepared for. Early in my career, working on a psychiatric inpatient ward, I experienced my first loss to suicide. A woman well known to the team—familiar, engaging, and recently attending a family event returned to the ward, chatted about the day, and later went to her room. She was found the next morning, having taken her life during the night.

I wasn’t the staff member who found her, but I came on shift to the news. The devastation was immediate. We had to inform her family, support other staff, and care for the remaining 16 patients on the ward. It was a weekend, and support was minimal. We continued, as we often do. I remember feeling physically and mentally exhausted but still trying to provide emotional support to the patients who were understandably shaken.

When I got home, I broke down. The guilt, the sadness, the questions—What did I miss? What happens now? —were overwhelming. What followed was silence. No structured support, just interviews, statements, and a sense that we were being scrutinised. It felt lonely. Strange. I eventually reached out for my own support, recognising the toll it was taking on me.

Sadly, throughout my career there have been more experiences of suicide, they all stick in my mind as a write this, those I have been actively involved with and developed therapeutic relationships always hitting harder. The process got easier as it is no longer new or unknown. As I progressed in my career and moved into a managerial function, I have been able to look at the process and support and ensure that with any incident staff well-being is a focus. This has also been supported by a focus on learning and support within the wider organisation.

The emotional and physical toll

Mental health professionals are often expected to be resilient—to continue, to manage, to remain stoic. But behind that exterior, we are human too. The emotional toll of suicide can include shock, grief, guilt, and self-blame. These feelings can linger, especially when the person was known well or had been part of a long care journey.

Physically, the stress can manifest in fatigue, headaches, sleep disruption, and burnout. The body often carries the weight of unprocessed trauma, especially when there’s little time or space to reflect.

Impact on care delivery

Following the incident, I noticed a significant shift in how I approached care. There was a deep fear that it could happen again, a constant worry that someone else might be at risk. This led to a more risk-averse approach, where I found myself wanting to protect everyone, sometimes overextending support and intervening in ways that were different from my usual practice.

I became hypervigilant, adjusting my care delivery to ensure no detail was missed, no risk overlooked. While this came from a place of compassion and concern, I began to recognise that it was also rooted in fear. I approached our team psychologist to talk this through, to understand and make sense of what I was experiencing.

Together, we used a reflective approach to explore these feelings. I wrote down my thoughts, revisited the incident in supervision, and allowed myself to acknowledge the emotional impact without judgment. This process helped me understand that my reactions were not signs of weakness, but normal human responses to trauma.

Reflective practice gave me the space to process, learn, and grow. It reminded me that healing is not linear, and that seeking support is a strength. By engaging in this process, I was able to recalibrate my approach to care—balancing compassion with clinical clarity.

The incident had left a mark, and my way of working had adapted in response. By acknowledging this and seeking support, I was able to regain balance—continuing to provide safe, compassionate care without being driven solely by fear.

Suicide as an occupational hazard

Foley & Kelly (2007) described suicide as a relatively common experience among mental health professionals and suggested it could reasonably be regarded as an occupational hazard. Despite this, the emotional impact on staff is rarely discussed, and formal training to prepare professionals for the consequences is often lacking.

Training, supervision, and postvention

Sandford et al. (2021) explored the emotional and professional impact of suicide and reinforced the importance of training in suicide risk assessment, formulation, and safety planning. Their work led to the development of a confidence scale to assess practitioners’ preparedness, highlighting that confidence in managing suicide risk is essential not only for patient safety but also for staff wellbeing.

The study also emphasised the need for clear organisational procedures following a suicide—particularly around how the death is communicated and what happens next. From my own experience, the internal investigation process can feel clinical and lacking in empathy—especially when you’re unfamiliar with the system.

Finding Storm Skills Training

I attended my first Storm Skills Training session not long after experiencing my first death by suicide. Reflecting now, I wish I’d had it before. The approach used within Storm Skills Training doesn’t just teach supportive management of self-harm and suicide; it opens conversations about the emotional impact of suicide, the importance of supervision, and the need to care for ourselves as practitioners.

That introduction to Storm Skills Training was a turning point. It confirmed the challenges I’d faced, empowered me to make changes, and sparked a passion for supporting teams and individuals through incidents of self-harm and suicide—whether attempts or deaths. This training supported my learning and enhancing my skills but also helped me see that support must be proactive, embedded, and compassionate. It gave me the language and tools to advocate for better systems and to ensure that no professional feels alone in the aftermath of such loss.

Culture of support

If we are to genuinely care for those who care for others, we must foster a culture where support is embedded—not optional. This means creating environments where emotional responses to suicide are acknowledged, not hidden; where vulnerability is seen as strength, not weakness. Identifying and tackling systemic problems.

Learning from events, when tragic events happen using that to learn, grow and develop. Self-reflection, processed, practice. Sharing to ensure this helps and guides others. Developing an open learning culture.

Support must be ongoing, not just reactive. It should be woven into supervision, team meetings, training, and everyday interactions. When we foster a culture of support, we give permission to feel, to heal, and to continue our work with renewed strength and purpose.

From a practical point of view ‘in service’ training needs to be considered and developed that includes the service procedures following a suicide – this to have the addition of self-care and support available. This is not currently something provided within my area of practice as ‘formal’ mandatory training but is something I am keen to look at and co-produce.

The role of compassionate leadership

Compassionate leadership is key. It means recognising the human impact behind the clinical event, checking in with staff, and advocating for structured postvention. Leaders who lead with empathy help transform painful experiences into opportunities for healing and growth.

When the process feels cold or procedural, it adds to the distress. But when leaders show compassion, they help staff feel seen, heard, and supported. Research shows that prompt, empathetic communication from supervisors and senior leadership can significantly reduce feelings of isolation and self-blame among clinicians.

Suicide prevention as a priority

Suicide prevention needs to remain a priority; individuals experiencing severe psychological distress often face complex barriers to accessing timely and effective support. The collective efforts of healthcare professionals, community organisations, and statutory bodies across the United Kingdom and internationally are essential in reducing suicide rates and mitigating associated harms.

Final thoughts

Suicide will always be one of the hardest parts of our work. But with the right support, training, and leadership, we can ensure that no professional faces it alone. We must continue to advocate for systems that care for those caring—because our wellbeing matters too. As mental health practitioners, yes, we are there to support those through the most difficult periods, but it remains that…We are human too.

References list

Foley, S. R., & Kelly, B. D. (2007). When a patient dies by suicide: Incidence, implications and coping strategies. Advances in Psychiatric Treatment, 13(2), 134–138. https://doi.org/10.1192/apt.bp.106.002501

Sandford DM, Kirtley OJ, Thwaites R, O'Connor RC. (2021).  The impact on mental health practitioners of the death of a patient by suicide: A systematic review. Clin Psychol Psychother. 2021; 28: 261–294. https://doi.org/10.1002/cpp.2515