I can still remember with a mixture of amusement,irritation and incredulity when a senior policymakerin the mental health setting in which I was workingquestioned the validity and relevance of my research:how counsellors and psychotherapists work with suicidalclients and whether a time-limited, cost-effective trainingsession could be developed to improve confidence andcapacity in working with such a challenging client group.

Indeed, it was with genuine bemusement that she lookedat me and said that therapists simply wouldn’t find themselvesin a position of working with suicidal clients because theywould, in every eventuality, refer them on to more ‘specialist’(and perhaps competent?) professionals. I tactfully explainedthat the majority of therapists probably do work with suicidalpotential with their clients much of the time and, make nomistake, we do an excellent job at it too. It clearly wasn’t a tackthat was intended to make friends with senior policymakersand I soon shuffled on to pastures new.

But in this anecdote lie a number of important truths fortherapists in a range of settings, including private practice:suicide potential is evident in a lot of the work we do and, givenhow little (relatively speaking) we find ourselves in a position ofbreaking a client’s confidentiality, we seem to be able to workproactively with risk very effectively. That isn’t to say therearen’t problems, however, and this is at the heart of my research.To name these problems more specifically:

  • suicide has enormous emotional and philosophical resonancefor most of us in some form or another, and there is a greatlikelihood that this will find its way into the therapeuticrelationship
  • there is no legal requirement to disclose concerns of suiciderisk, yet the overwhelming majority of us working in privatepractice will probably contract to limit confidentiality if weconsider risk of suicide an immediate possibility
  • the concept of capacity sits centrally to much of our thinkingaround suicide, yet therapists generally receive very littletraining in this area, and indeed, they receive very little trainingat all in working with suicide potential1
  • there is an increasing tension between the risk factor approachto evaluating suicide potential (who is more likely to killthemselves) and the discourse-based approach, with theformer generally structured around risk assessment toolsand the latter around a human exchange (the former usuallycomes out on top because of its so-called ‘scientific rigour’)
  • therapists are notoriously bad at articulating what they do.That is not to say they are bad at what they do in response tosuicide risk, but rather that they struggle to clearly describeit. In many instances, it seems to be shared wisdom thatevaluating suicide potential simply transfigures out of theether, emerging from some ethereal and instinctive dynamicthat only we are privy to. This, quite simply, isn’t true.

So, my research continued to reflect in more depth on theprocess of therapy with suicidal clients. The final stage was todevelop an evidence-based, one-day training workshop fortherapists (and other mental health professionals) to explorein detail their work with suicide risk and how they could bringtogether all that we know through research and evidence, butmake it relevant to a relational process. In summary, how couldwe move beyond the two-dimensional and uncertain efficacyof risk assessment tools and instead build confidence in adiscourse-based approach to working with suicide potential?Could we learn to talk about suicide and do what Shneidman2said was the most important thing we should do with suicidalpeople: ‘…our best route to understanding suicide is not throughthe study of the structure of the brain, nor the study of socialstatistics, nor the study of mental diseases, but directly throughthe study of human emotions described… in the words of thesuicidal person.’ Shneidman goes on to say: ‘The most importantquestion to a potentially suicidal person is not an inquiry aboutfamily history or laboratory tests of blood or spinal fluid, but“Where do you hurt?” and “How can I help you?”’

The answer to my question was yes, and I have beentravelling around the UK and Europe for the last few years doingjust that. The purpose of this article is to flag some of the keyareas explored in the training and to respond to the problemsoutlined above.

Personal perspectives: the hidden dynamic

I have left many people speechless when they ask me about myresearch, usually at parties, it has to be said. I say, 'Working withsuicide.' They say, ‘Oh, how fascinating, you must tell me more.I just need to get a drink and I’ll come straight back’, and I neversee them again. I am left standing alone contemplating what itwas I said. The fact is that suicide is not a ‘neutral’ subject; it willprovoke a range of feelings and responses in us that will beshaped and informed by many factors. These will include: faithand spirituality; family experiences of crisis and suicide; our ownexperiences of suicidal feelings; professional experiences; books,music, films, and news stories; others’ perspectives, and so on.It is not a fixed entity either, but rather one that is shifting andchanging as we brush alongside crises and new experiences.Suicide is often a felt, rather than simply a thought response, andour actions and reactions are often rooted at a very emotionallyvisceral level.

Then there is another dynamic. I have read so often, and beentold the same, that it is possible for therapists to ‘leave at thedoor’ their own thoughts, feelings, judgments, prejudices, and soon, when seeing a client. That somehow, and perhaps magically,as we sit in our therapist chairs, we become some sort of blankslate – without a personal history as it were – devoid of any priorshaping and influence. I’ve always thought this was bunkum.I suspect we take everything about ourselves and our historyinto the room with us. Instead, the challenge is to know of ourhistory and to find ways of working with it so that it does notunknowingly become enacted as part of the therapeutic process.

If we bring these two ideas together – that we cannot leaveour thoughts, feelings and experiences at the door, and that wewill all have some perspective on suicide, such as whethersuicide is something we can make sense of, or something that wemight ‘disapprove’ of – we can see the potential for our own viewsbecoming unwittingly predominant in the therapeutic process.There is an emerging body of research3 discussing the conceptof unacknowledged countertransferential responses to suicidepotential that is important here. In not getting hooked on theparticular terminology used to describe the process, it canbe helpful as practitioners to reflect on how views on suicidemight inform our responses. Examples of unacknowledgedcountertransferential responses in working with suicide riskcan include:

  • underestimating levels of distress or intent
  • an active avoidance of an exploration
  • being too quick to be reassured about lack of risk or claimsof improvement
  • assuming exploration will be experienced by the client asclumsy or insensitive (we project our own fears)
  • minimising the importance of our relationship
  • premature ending of therapy
  • focusing on a perceived ‘manipulation’
  • feeling overwhelmed or hopeless
  • feelings of incompetence, fear, anger, anxiety and impotence.

Even though I have written about and researched therapywith suicidal clients for many years, I am not immune to theseprocesses. I can recall many instances in work with clients wherethese dynamics have been present. My point here is that theyare understandable and can be present at different times duringour work. In being open to their presence, we position ourselvesin a place where we can work more effectively to mitigate theirnegative impact.

The importance of context

When the door is closed and we are engaged in the intricaterelational process of therapeutic work, it is easy to forget thereis a whole world beyond the therapy room. In becomingimmersed in the client’s world and perspective, the widerfactors that shape both the client’s and our own living andfunctioning become less apparent. Yet the reality is thattherapy never takes place in a vacuum, but rather in a complexsystem of interrelated and mutually dependent processes. Theprofessional challenge is often about how we respond to andmanage that fact while keeping the client’s process in focus.

The same is true for working with suicide potential. Thecontracts we make with clients at the outset of therapy areinformed by a number of factors, such as: our trainingexperience; our modality; ethical expectations; what isunderstood to constitute good practice; the particular clientgroup with whom we work; and how we construct the‘organisation’ of our private practice. If we take this latterconsideration, we can see quickly how that one factor alonecan be so instrumental in how we work. As private practitionerswe are not simply meeting clients in our own paid-for spaceand being paid, in turn, for the delivery of our service. We areresponsible for the tone and structure of our work, which will,in turn, shape the culture of the services we deliver. This istrue also for how we work independently with suicidal clients.

One of the findings of my research and contact withtherapists working in organisational settings over the yearsis that often we find ourselves having to practise in ways notconsistent with our own personal views. For example, if webelieve that an individual ultimately retains the right to endtheir life, we might struggle with a policy expectation that weshould refer on any clients with suicidal thoughts. We maybelieve the client has the right to kill themselves but aredirected to act in a more preventative role. The reverse canalso be true. What is interesting in my own research is thatcounsellors were often more inclined to deal with thisdissonance by disregarding organisational policy rather thanchallenging it, where appropriate. It would be foolhardy toimagine that working privately might make us immune to suchdynamics. Rather, there is an ethical imperative for us to taketime, care and consideration in reflecting on the nature of theconfidentiality we offer our clients around suicide risk, howthat will be implemented, and why we have taken the positionwe have. We might decide to offer an inclusive level ofconfidentiality around suicide potential (ie never disclosingconcern without client consent), but we would need to carefullyreflect on the ethical and legal consequences of doing so, andparticularly when our clients might lack the capacity to makeinformed decisions, perhaps through age, ill health or distress.

That leaves us with challenging choices: we have an ethicalduty to our clients to ensure that we will do what we say wewill do (and that we are competent to do so). If we contract sothat confidentiality is limited in the event of high suicide risk,we have a duty to act on that transparently, honestly and,wherever possible, in collaboration with our client, even ifthat means going against a client’s expressed wishes as alast resort. In such events, we need to be clear about therationale for our actions and not locate that rationale insome magical thinking.

The bigger picture

While there is no UK statutory requirement to discloseconcerns regarding suicide risk (although assisting suicidecurrently remains unlawful at the time of writing), the majorityof therapists have to manage a careful balance between therights of the client (autonomy, confidentiality, right to refuse‘treatment’) set against the responsibilities inherent in therole of being a therapist (a contract that limits confidentialitywhere risk is immediately evident). The ethical position oforganisations such as is to respect the autonomy of theclient while working to safeguard their wellbeing. It is a difficulttightrope to negotiate and the safety nets are not always asapparent as we would like them to be. The fear of ‘getting itwrong’ with respect to suicide is one shared not only bytherapists, but by psychologists, psychiatrists and othermental health workers. The spectre of a completed suicide ofa client known to us can sit heavily on our shoulders and, forthose who share with me the experience of the death of a clientthrough suicide, the trauma and distress can be palpable.

Mental health legislation is typically not the frontlinestatutory instrument that counsellors and psychotherapistswould reach for in the event of difficulty or confusion. Whetheror not a client should be ‘sectioned’ under the Mental HealthAct (1983, amended 2007) is not a duty placed on therapistsand, having worked as a social worker under the terms ofmental health legislation, I have found that it does not providesimplicity and clarity as one might hope. The concept ofcapacity is, however, a more pertinent concept for therapists(as defined by the Mental Capacity Act 2005 (in England andWales), Adults with Incapacity (Scotland) Act 2008 and, underdiscussion in Northern Ireland, The Mental Capacity (Health,Welfare & Finance) Bill.

Adults have the right to make decisions about their life andtreatment if they have the capacity to do so, including making‘unwise’ decisions that might be detrimental to their healthand wellbeing. The capacity to make informed decisions abouttreatment (which would include counselling and psychotherapy)is determined if the individual:

  • understands what the medical treatment is, its purposeand nature, and why it is being proposed
  • understands the benefits, risks and alternatives
  • understands the consequences of not receiving theproposed treatment
  • can retain the information and is able to weigh up the prosand cons in order to arrive at a decision
  • can communicate the decision.

However, if a clear and appropriate contract is in place withclients, therapists are not likely to attract criticism if they goagainst a client’s known wishes regarding confidentiality inresponse to serious and immediate concerns about a client’swellbeing due to suicide risk. Such ‘best interest’ actions are, asthe term implies, decisions made by a professional to act in thebest interests of the client in a situation where their immediatesafety might be compromised. However, it is very helpful fortherapists to make themselves aware of the conceptssurrounding and informing capacity (and Gillick competencywith children and young people), as reflecting on the client’scapacity to consent to therapy and their management of theirown confidentiality can be important aspects to capture inrecord keeping. There is some excellent professional guidanceavailable for thinking about capacity.4

Suicide discourse: the hardest words

If we return to Shneidman’s assertion that the most importantquestion for a suicidal person is: ‘Where do you hurt and howcan I help you?’, we go to what I believe is the heart and soul ofeffective work with suicidal clients. The application of sciencein the development of ‘objective’ measures and risk assessmenttools to evaluate risk potential is ultimately a misnomer: theunderstanding of another’s feelings and potential behaviour isalways a subjective process. This was highlighted during thedelivery of a suicide workshop to a mental health team someyears ago. They asked me to use my case study material to helpthem work through the risk assessment tool they were requiredto complete with each client. This involved me being the ‘client’and answering their questions as they worked through the form.Even though each member of the team heard the sameinformation at the same time, at the end of the process each onehad reached a different conclusion. However worthy the researchwas that informed the development of this risk assessment tool,it was still ultimately subject to good old human interpretation,and vagaries inherent in that process.

At best, such tools can offer a structure within which adiscourse can be initiated, or some flagging of risk potential.At worst, they can leave practitioners thinking they havesuccessfully ticked their ‘risk assessment duty’. That is, if a clientscores highly on risk (no matter how low risk they might actuallybe) the imperative seems to be to prioritise their allocation; ora high-risk client scores low on risk but may be imminently indanger, yet may not be prioritised as it is hard to disregard thenumbers. We assume the science must have it right. However,as Shneidman so eloquently asserts, the real understandingand insight lies in the discourse.

This is not without problems, however. My own researchclearly indicated that clients will often refer to their suicidalthinking in metaphor or by implication, and that therapists canbe reluctant to pick up on the metaphor and name suicide moreexplicitly.5 The upshot is that suicide potential can often besomething that remains unexplored or unasked about and,believe me, none of us are immune to that dynamic, no matterhow much we think we would always get it right. The therapistsin my study were all experienced and worked from a full rangeof theoretical orientations, so this is not a modality issue.

Therapists need to be carefully supported to find their ownconfidence and grounding to be able and willing to go to themost difficult of places with their clients and have the emotional,as well as professional capacity to name suicide, and thenexplore it. Saying to a client something like, ‘I wonder if you haveever had thoughts about harming yourself to cope with yourproblems, or of wanting to end your life’ will not put the thoughtinto a client’s mind where it did not exist before but will, instead,open a door of opportunity for both therapist and client toexplore and begin to understand the self-annihilatory pull. AsShea6 notes: ‘…when a [therapist] begins to understand his or herown attitudes, biases, and responses to suicide, he or she canbecome more psychologically and emotionally available to asuicidal client.’ Shea goes on to state: ‘Clients seem to be able tosense when a [therapist] is comfortable with the topic of suicide.At that point, and with such a [practitioner], clients may feel safeenough to share the immediacy of their pull towards death.’

Ideas for good practice

As we have seen, the complexity of working with suicidepotential is difficult to overstate. Balancing clients’ rights,capacity, contracting, professional and ethical considerations,therapist responsibilities and so on is a challenging task thatcan raise a range of feelings and responses in even the mostexperienced practitioner. However, there are a number ofkey principles we can keep in mind that can make a positivecontribution towards respectful and ethical practice andinformed and collaborative decision-making. Some pointersfor good practice in working with suicide include:

  • ensure you take time and care over contracting and neverassume a client’s understanding without carefully checkingit out
  • don’t rely on ‘stock’ phrases in contracting (eg ‘risk to selfand others’) that might be very familiar to us but less so to adistressed and vulnerable client attending therapy for thefirst time – explain what you mean in accessible language
  • be clear as to any factors that might inform or shape the natureof agreements you might make with clients about therapy(eg your working practices in response to suicide)
  • be aware of what services and options exist in your area foronward referral, if necessary. Knowledge of these can helpinform risk management planning as well as onward referralin crisis. Know of these services before you need them and, ifpossible, make some form of contact with them to talk aboutreferral procedures (and how, as a private practitioner, youmight expedite a referral quickly if needed)
  • take time and opportunity to carefully reflect on your ownfeelings and responses to suicide, and how you have reachedthis position
  • think about how you might talk to clients about their suicidalthinking and perhaps practise in supervision
  • be willing and open to ask all clients about the potential forsuicide, when appropriate
  • be aware of the apparently very good reasons we might comeup with for not having talked with a client about suicide (egthey were too upset to ask) and reflect on the fact that thereare, in fact, very few good reasons why we might not askabout suicide
  • asking about suicide will not put the thought into the client’smind – instead it will more likely reduce risk
  • if a client is vulnerable, think about collaboratively developinga crisis plan with them: an ‘action plan’ that is rooted aroundinterpersonal support options (helplines, crisis teams, accessto a GP), and also intrapersonal support options (things theclient can do for themselves as self-support, such asmeditation, exercise, distraction or focusing techniques)that they can take away that outlines risk triggers and listswhat actions and support they might access as a means ofsupporting themselves (detailing those supports, such astelephone numbers)
  • making decisions about how to respond to suicide potentialshould never be informed by ‘gut feeling’, instinct or any otherpotentially magical process. Instead, use your knowledge,training, what the client says, what the client doesn’t say, howthey present, discussions in supervision (if time allows), and soon, to develop an informed and explicit rationale for actionsthat you can clearly articulate to yourself, your supervisor and,most importantly, your client
  • ensure you record appropriately any concerns regarding risk,how you responded and what the outcome was (including yourclient’s part in that process)
  • ensure you take the time and opportunity to reflect on theethical aspects of how you work and that you read relevantguidance on legislation that might be pertinent in your workwith suicidal potential.

Finally, remember that working with suicide risk can makevery high demands on our own emotional and psychologicalintegrity. Indeed, research has suggested a link betweenworking with suicide potential and vicarious trauma.7Payingattention to our own needs and taking support and attending toself-care wherever possible is not to be overlooked. Over-anxietyin response to a suicidal presentation is probably only marginallyless concerning than no anxiety at all. Making contact withanother who is contemplating their very existence demandssome emotional resonance on our part. Dissociating from it,or being overwhelmed by it, both contraindicate effective andempathic therapeutic processing, whereas experiencing theimpact of the process, but in such a way that it facilitates ratherthan inhibits psychological contact with another’s suicidalprocess, is perhaps true relational depth.

This is an edited version of an article that was first publishedin Healthcare Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal. 2014;14(1):14-19.

Dr Andrew Reeves is a senioraccredited counsellor/psychotherapist anda freelance writer, trainer and supervisor.He offers consultative support toorganisations that work with risk and isauthor of, amongst other titles, CounsellingSuicidal Clients (Sage 2010).

References

1. Reeves A, Bowl, R, Wheeler, S. Assessing risk: confrontation or avoidance– what is taught on counsellor training courses. British Journal of Guidanceand Counselling. 2004; 32(2):235-247.
2. Shneidman ES. The suicidal mind. Oxford: Oxford University Press; 1998.
3. Leenaars AA. Psychotherapy with suicidal people: a person centredapproach. Chichester: Wiley; 2004.
4. www.rcpsych.ac.uk/healthadvice/problemsdisorders/mentalcapacityandthelaw.aspx. Accessed 14 April 2014.
5. Reeves A, Bowl R, Wheeler S, Guthrie E. The hardest words: exploring thedialogue of suicide in the counselling process – a discourse analysis.Counselling and Psychotherapy Research. 2004; 4(1):62-71.
6. Shea SC. The practical art of suicide assessment: a guide for mental healthprofessionals and substance abuse counsellors. Chichester: Wiley; 2002.
7. Fox R, Cooper M. The effects of suicide on the private practitioner: aprofessional and personal perspective. Clinical Social Work Journal. 1998;26:143-157