What happens when you’re grieving, but still expected to show up, support, and stay composed? Let's discuss silent grief professional grief and loss.
It’s easy to think of grief as something that happens outside work. A private experience, a personal hardship. Something that belongs to evenings and weekends, not rosters or Monday mornings.
But for professionals in healthcare, mental health, education, chaplaincy, and other human-facing roles, grief doesn’t wait until the shift ends.
Grief shows up in the car before you arrive. In the pause before the Zoom camera turns on. In the moment between sessions, when the door closes behind a client and you're left with your own silent pain.
Professionals are trained to support others through hardship and challenge. But there’s rarely space to acknowledge their own experiences. There’s an unspoken expectation to be resilient, strong, or neutral. To carry on, to “hold it together” for those who depend on you.
Even when workplaces offer compassionate leave or peer support, few structures exist to help clinicians and carers explore how their own grief intersects with their professional identity.
Grief can also be compounded by guilt (‘How can I take time out when my patients need me?’) or the fear of being seen as less capable. Many professionals therefore grieve in silence, performing stability while privately unravelling.
These aren’t stories of failure or stoicism. They’re stories of professionals doing what they’ve been taught: Show up. Be steady. Be helpful. But behind the help is hurt.
You might know the models. You might have sat through lectures on grief theory or supported dozens of bereaved clients and patients. But when it’s your loss, that knowledge doesn’t insulate you.
Knowledge can sharpen your awareness of what’s happening, while doing little to soften the ache.
Knowing about grief doesn’t mean you don’t feel grief.
You can cognitively understand grief and still be emotionally, psychologically, or spiritually undone by it.
Sometimes, knowledge even complicates things. You may recognise your avoidance, your numbness, your anger, and still feel powerless to shift them. You might spot the signs of disenfranchised grief in your own story and still struggle to claim your right to mourn.
Grief literacy gives language. But it doesn’t remove the weight.
Your grief is valid, even when it’s quiet. Grief Action offers spaces where you don’t need to always be the ‘strong’ one. Professional identity and personal loss can sit beside one another, without shame or split.
➡️ Book an individual supervision session to reflect on grief experiences.
➡️ Join our Grief-Informed Supervision Group, because holding space for others is easier when you have space held for you.
➡️ Join the Grief Action mailing list
for ongoing grief reflections, resources, and honest conversation. No performance required.
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📸 Photo by Mahdi Bafande on Unsplash
Categories: : Grief At Work, Grief Literacy, Grief Supervision