Hello and Welcome Back to The Therapist Diaries,
As a Crisis Intervention Clinician and Truma Therapist, one of the most meaningful tools I’ve worked on with clients has been the safety plan. September is Suicide Prevention Month, and while awareness campaigns often focus on important statistics and slogans, what I’ve found most impactful in real lives are the small, tangible steps we can take when the world feels too heavy. A safety plan is one of those steps.
When I talk about safety plans, I describe them as a kind of personal roadmap. It’s something you create in your own words, for your own life, to guide you through moments of crisis. Because when our emotions are dysregulated and suicidal thoughts show up, clarity often disappears. Memory gets foggy, hope feels far away, and even the simplest choices can feel impossible. A safety plan removes the pressure of having to figure it all out in the middle of that storm.
I’ve sat with people who tell me, “I’ll just remember what to do when I need it.” And I gently remind them that our brains don’t work that way in crisis. When we’re overwhelmed, the rational part of our brain, the prefrontal cortex, goes offline. In its place, the limbic system takes over - the part of the brain that’s wired for survival, not problem-solving. Our thoughts become foggy. Our body reacts before our mind can catch up. It’s hard to think clearly, let alone remember a conversation from months ago or apply a coping strategy we’ve never really practiced.
In those moments, we don’t make wise choices, we make automatic ones. We shut down. We lash out. We reach for comfort in old patterns, even destructive ones. That’s why emotional resilience isn’t about what you know, it’s about what you’ve internalized. You have to rehearse the healthy response before you need it. You have to build the muscle memory. Because in crisis, you won't rise to your best intentions, you'll fall to your level of preparation.
That’s why writing it down, actually having something physical to hold, is so important. A folded piece of paper in a wallet or a note by the bedside can do more than the best intentions tucked away in our heads. In the darkest moments, it’s right there, reminding you of the steps forward.
A good safety plan usually starts with awareness. It asks: What are the signs that tell me I’m heading into dangerous territory? Maybe it’s withdrawing from people, maybe it’s trouble sleeping, maybe it’s that sinking feeling of hopelessness that doesn’t lift. Identifying those signs makes it easier to act early.
From there, the plan becomes a collection of lifelines. It might include simple coping strategies you can do on your own, like putting on a favorite song, stepping outside for fresh air, or practicing grounding exercises that bring you back to the present. It also includes the people who can hold space for you: the friend who always answers, the sibling who makes you laugh, the therapist who knows your story. And beyond that, it lists professional and crisis resources, because sometimes the bravest thing you can do is call a stranger trained to help you through the worst of it.
One of my favorite parts of safety planning is asking clients about their reasons to live. Sometimes they hesitate, unsure what to say. But once they start, the list grows... children, pets, unfinished dreams, moments still waiting to be experienced. Writing these down turns them into anchors. When everything feels blurry, those reminders bring the future back into focus.
I often encourage clients to share their safety plans with someone they trust. Not everyone feels comfortable with that, and that’s okay, but letting someone else hold a copy can take away the fear of being alone with the struggle. It also helps loved ones know how to support you without guessing.
Safety plans aren’t static documents. They change as life changes. A coping strategy that worked last year may not work now. A friend you leaned on might have moved away, but maybe a new support has come into your life. Checking in with your plan from time to time keeps it relevant and alive.
What I’ve learned is that safety plans are more than crisis tools. They’re acts of hope. Writing one says: "I believe I’ll have hard moments, but I also believe I’ll be here to navigate them." It’s a way of saying yes to tomorrow, even when today feels unbearable.
So, if you’ve never written one, consider starting this month. Write it for yourself. Write it with someone you trust. Keep it close. Share it if you can. Because your life matters and having a plan can help you remember that when everything else makes you forget.
And if today feels too heavy, please don’t go through it alone. In the U.S., you can dial or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you’re reading this elsewhere, look up your local hotline or emergency number. Someone will be there to answer.
Below I've including a Mini Safety Plan Template for you to use to get started. If you'd like a printable template or advice on how to write one, please reach out via email.
A Mini Safety Plan Template
Warning signs I might notice in myself: (e.g., isolating, hopeless thoughts, not eating, trouble sleeping)
Things I can do on my own to cope: (e.g., listen to music, journal, cuddle my pet, go outside)
People I can connect with for distraction or support: (names + phone numbers)
Professional supports: (therapist, doctor, hotlines, *988 in the U.S.)
Steps I can take to make my environment safer: (e.g., ask someone to hold medications, remove sharp objects)
My reasons to live: (a short list of the people, goals, and dreams that keep me going)
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