Suicide Prevention Month: After the Crisis

Hello and welcome back to The Therapist Diaries, 

Trigger warning: this post discusses suicidal crisis and recovery. If you're feeling unsafe right now, please contact emergency services or your local crisis line. In the U.S., you can call or text 988; in other countries, contact your local emergency number or suicide prevention services.

In this post we're going to take a bit of a different journey. In the previous Suicide Prevention Month posts we've talked about signs and symptoms and prevention tactics like safety plans and talking to loves ones, not it's time to skip ahead a little bit and talk about how we can help ourselves and others AFTER a crisis. 

I’ve sat across from people in my office in the days after a suicidal crisis, and the air always feels different in those moments. The storm has passed, but the quiet that follows is often heavier than the chaos itself. My clients are alive, and that matters more than anything. But they’re also raw, shaky, sometimes ashamed. They often say things like, “I don’t know how to face people now” or “I’m afraid everyone sees me differently.”

What I’ve learned over the years is this: surviving a suicidal crisis is not the end of the story, it’s the beginning of recovery. And recovery, though fragile at first, is deeply possible.

One client once told me, “Everyone kept saying they were glad I was okay, but I didn’t feel okay” Youth in particularly often feel as though their parents no longer trust them, they'll return home to find medications and sharps locked away and their parents checking in on them more often- they're parents are putting additional protections in place, but to the youth, this screams distrust. These sentiments are common. The days after a crisis often bring shame and embarrassment. People feel judged, even when no one has said a word. They feel like they should be “better” just because the crisis has passed, when really, they are still carrying the emotional bruises.

I remind them, and maybe this is a reminder you the reader need to... there is no shame in surviving. A crisis doesn’t mean you’re weak; it means the pain was immense. And coming back from that pain takes time, care, and support.

So how do we start the recovery journey? Small steps. 

In those early sessions after a crisis, I don’t ask clients to make grand plans. Instead, we focus on the tiniest of steps: drinking water, creating a simple routine, writing down one reason to keep going. Recovery is built on the ordinary small rhythms of daily life. 

For friends and family, this is an important truth: you don’t need to “fix” your loved one or demand answers about what happened. Sometimes the most healing act is simply sitting with them, bringing them a meal, or checking in with a gentle text: “Thinking of you today. Want to take a walk together later?”

Everyone who has been through a suicidal crisis dreads the question, “What happened?” They don’t always want to relive the details, and they don’t owe those details to anyone. I often help them rehearse simple, protective responses:

“I went through a health crisis, but I’m getting help.”

“I’m focusing on recovery right now, and I’d appreciate your support.”

Friends and family can support this by resisting the urge to interrogate. Curiosity can come from a place of love, but too many questions can feel overwhelming. Instead of pressing for details, try saying: “I’m here when you want to talk." And remember, you don't need to know the details of what happened to love and care for them. 

Another theme I hear often is this idea of trusting someone to be alone again. After a crisis, people sometimes feel betrayed by their own mind. They’re afraid the darkness will return and wonder if they’ll survive it next time. This is where therapy, safety planning, and support networks come in. For family 

For loved ones, it’s natural to want reassurance that “it won’t happen again.” But asking someone to promise that is unfair, and often impossible. Instead, focus on building safety together. Offer to help create a plan: write down warning signs, coping strategies, and numbers to call in a crisis. Let your loved one know you believe in their ability to recover, even if they doubt it themselves.

The question of trust looks very different when it’s your child who has been through a suicidal crisis. Parents often sit in my office confessing, “I don’t know how to ever let them out of my sight again.” The fear is immense, not just of what already happened, but of what could happen next.

Parents also carry a heavy burden of guilt. They replay moments, wondering what signs they missed, blaming themselves for not knowing their child was in so much pain. I tell them gently: you did not cause your child’s crisis. And just as your child now needs space to heal, you deserve compassion too.

Rebuilding trust here means creating new rhythms of safety together. This might look like agreeing on daily check-ins, collaborating on a safety plan, and ensuring your child has professional supports beyond you. It also means listening without judgment when they say, “I’m not okay.” Sometimes your child doesn’t need you to fix their pain, they need you to believe them and sit with them through it.

Perhaps even harder is relearning to trust yourself as a parent. Many parents feel as if they can't trust their instincts, I remind them: your love for your child did not fail. Pain does not erase your role as a steady, caring presence. Seeking your own therapy or joining a support group for parents can help you rebuild confidence and model for your child what healing looks like.

Trust, for both parent and child, will not look like it did before the crisis. But over time, with patience and openness, families often find that what grows in its place is a deeper, more resilient connection.

So, when we're supporting friends and family what should we do to help someone who has been through a suicidal crisis?

• Be present, not perfect. You don’t need magical words. A simple, “I love you, I’m glad you’re here” is enough. Don't worry about saying the wrong thing, speak from the heart and they will know that you mean it. 

• Offer specific help. Instead of, “Let me know if you need anything,” try, “I can drop dinner off on Wednesday” or “Want me to sit with you during your next appointment?”

• Respect boundaries. If your loved one doesn’t want to talk about the crisis, don’t push. Let them share on their own terms.

• Check in consistently. A quick text or call matters more than you think. It communicates, “You matter, and I haven’t forgotten.”

• Take care of yourself, too. Supporting someone after a suicidal crisis is heavy work. Find your own support system so you’re not carrying it alone.

If you've ever been to therapy or spent any time with a therapist, you'll have heard the phrase "healing/ recovery is not linear". I feel at this point I should just have it tattooed across my forehead. There will be good days and there will be bad days, but you will work through this. Recovery doesn’t mean the pain never returns, it means you learn ways to live alongside it, and over time, those ways become stronger than the hurt.

So, if you are in the “after” right now, know this: recovery is coming. You do not have to explain everything to be worthy of love and support. And if you are walking alongside someone who has just survived, your steady presence is more healing than you realize.

The storm was real. But so is the sunrise after it. And both survivors and supporters alike can learn to step into that light, one careful, compassionate step at a time.

Until next time- be kind to your mind.

—The Therapist Diaries

For professional inquiries please reach out to georgina.m.lloyd@outlook.com