It was a quiet Tuesday morning, and I woke up slowly, enjoying the peacefulness as the aroma of brewing coffee filled the air. I was still half-asleep, scrolling through my phone, when an email caught my eye. The words inside completely shattered my calm: one of my clients had passed away.
First startled, I sat there in aching silence and disbelief. My master’s in art therapy program, which I will graduate from in May, encourages us students to fully rest and recuperate during our designated breaks. Having some extra time and energy, I decided to schedule biweekly sessions with a few clients during my break to provide them with the best support possible.
The day they took their life, I missed my client by mere hours. Insurmountable grief weighed on my chest as I replayed the last few weeks, trying to figure out if I could have said or done anything differently so the outcome would be different. How we grieve for our clients as though they were our own loved ones reflects the sincerity with which we embrace our work as therapists.
According to research, 22–39% of psychologists and 51–82% of psychiatrists lose at least one client to suicide in their career. Despite its prevalence, this reality is rarely discussed, both personally and professionally. Suicide reflects profound, often hidden suffering, and it is never something for loved ones to be blamed for.
Fostering openness around these conversations and enacting community care is essential to support those affected by a death by suicide, and for suicide prevention. Being able to connect with others who have experienced a similar loss is an important way to instill hope, process grief, receive support, reduce perceived burden on others, and increase a sense of belonging. Research also indicates that honest, open discussions about suicide can help adolescents and adults reduce suicidal thoughts and strengthen long-term mental health.
When I shared the news, I was surrounded by an outpouring of love. One of my biggest supporters, my professor and mentor, took genuine time and care to be there for me. She offered a couple of art directives for me to begin to process. As I fell apart, she pieced me back together with words that struck me deeply: “You and your client co-created hope. You co-created hope.” I immediately wrote down her words to bottle up the indelible feeling of hope. My professor’s unwavering support ultimately became the heart of my art.
Bereavement and grief experts encourage us to openly explore our grief, share memories of the person we lost, and to lean on the patience of our loved ones. Creating art and writing are also ways to move the emotion out of our bodies and into a physical vessel to dispel any lingering shame or self-blame. In order to safeguard client privacy, I share our memories only in professional spaces, and I create artwork cloaked through my own lens.
Resources that may assist you in your grief journey include the Coalition of Clinician Survivors, which offers virtual support groups, and a book titled “Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief” by David Kessler. This book comforted one of my peers who also lost a client to suicide. The author affirms, “Each person’s grief is as unique as their fingerprint. But what everyone has in common is that no matter how they grieve, they share a need for their grief to be witnessed.” As vulnerable as it may feel to show up in our grief, the right witnessing can lead to authentic healing.
As I continue to heal, I see hope on the horizon. I feel my body regulating itself as I utilize my wide array of coping skills, such as breathing, creating art, writing, listening to music, reaching out for support, and picturing calming visualization. I continue to send love and healing wishes to all of us affected. Sometimes the only way out is through — earnestly and heart open. As I’ve written in my poetry, “Hand over heart / Breathe through the art.”
Lexie Manion (she/her) is a published writer, passionate artist, and outspoken mental health advocate. Pursuing her MA in art therapy, she strongly believes that art and writing are pillars of healing. You can find more of her work at lexiemanion.com or follow her on Instagram.
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