When a Session Stays With You: Practitioner Wellbeing After Emotionally Charged Work
The room was in chaos.
Projectiles had been thrown and landed in their final resting place. Every toy had been dumped and scattered across the floor. A child was playing out a scene of fear, terror and vulnerability. Everybody’s nervous system was activated, including my own.
I remember feeling incredibly vulnerable at that moment. Fear, terror and vulnerability were not unfamiliar feelings to me. They were part of my own story too, and not easy feelings to sit with, let alone experience in my body while trying to stay present for a child.
Instead of avoiding or rushing away from what was happening, I moved towards it.
With watery eyes and a crack in my voice, I said, “I’m feeling scared. I wonder if you’re feeling scared too?”
“I am scared,” replied the three-and-a-half-year-old I was working with at the time.
I left that session feeling absolutely exhausted and floored. I cried on the way home and longed to be in the company of my partner. Not because I needed to talk through every detail, but because I needed safety, connection and co-regulation.
When I later explored the session in supervision, I worried that my emotional response meant I was no longer cut out for working with children. Instead, supervision helped me understand something very different. What had taken place was not failure, but a deeply attuned and powerful moment, one that mattered not only for the child, but for me as a practitioner too.
This is what I want to explore with you in this blog post: practitioner wellbeing after emotionally charged and activating sessions in child and family therapy.
If you work therapeutically with children, parents and families, there is every chance you have left a session feeling activated, unsettled, heavy, tearful, flat, preoccupied or deeply tired. These experiences are not a sign that you are doing the work badly. They are often part of what it means to do this work with depth, humanity and care.
Why emotionally charged sessions affect us
Child therapy and family therapy are relational, embodied and emotionally rich forms of work. We do not sit outside the therapeutic process as neutral observers. We are in relationship with children and families, and our bodies, histories, values and nervous systems are part of that relational field.
That means some sessions will affect us more deeply than others.
This can happen because:
we are exposed to trauma stories, traumatic play themes and relational pain
we are holding grief, sadness, anger, helplessness or fear alongside children and families
we are navigating conflict, crisis, safeguarding concerns or child protection worries
we may identify with the child, the parent or the family system in some way
we are often holding complexity, competing needs and uncertainty
ethical tension or moral distress can arise in the work
our own nervous system is responding in real time to what is unfolding in the room
For practitioners committed to trauma-informed practice and trauma-responsive care, this is such an important truth to remember: being impacted by the work does not automatically mean something has gone wrong or we’re failing in the work. Often, it means you are engaging in deeply human work that asks a great deal of your presence and capacity.
Signs you might be activated after a session
After an emotionally charged session, activation can show up in different ways.
You might notice:
racing thoughts
replaying the session over and over
self-doubt or second-guessing your responses
physical tension in your chest, jaw, shoulders or stomach
irritability or feeling emotionally short
numbness or shutdown
urgency to fix, rescue or act immediately
difficulty focusing on notes or moving into the next task
finding it hard to be fully present with your next client
tearfulness, heaviness or depletion
trouble switching off later in the day
Sometimes activation feels loud and obvious. At other times, it is quieter and more subtle. It may show up as feeling unusually flat, becoming highly task-focused, rushing your notes, or feeling emotionally disconnected from the rest of your day.
These are often the moments where reflective practice, not self-criticism, becomes so important.
The nervous system of the practitioner
One of the parts of this work I believe deserves far more open conversation is this:
Practitioners have nervous systems too.
We spend so much time supporting children and families to understand regulation, co-regulation, safety and overwhelm. But those same processes are also happening inside of us while we work.
We are not outside the relational field. We are in it.
When a child is expressing terror, panic, rage, helplessness or deep vulnerability, our nervous system is taking in far more than just words. We are registering tone, movement, silence, facial expression, pace, danger cues and emotional intensity. If what is unfolding connects with our own history, values, fears or protective instincts, our response may become even stronger.
This can look like a racing heart, tight chest, tears in the eyes, shallow breathing, urgency, fear, dissociation, exhaustion, or a strong protective pull towards the child. It can also look like going blank, becoming hyper-focused on getting it “right,” or feeling unsure what to say next.
And importantly, this does not automatically mean our response is harmful or unhelpful.
Sometimes our nervous system response offers valuable clinical information. It may tell us that something deeply important is happening in the room. It may help us recognise the emotional truth of the child’s experience. It may alert us to grief, rupture, fear or danger that needs to be named and held with care.
But even when our response is clinically useful, it still needs tending to afterwards.
When we repeatedly move towards distress, fear, pain and complexity in our work without noticing what is happening inside us, we can begin to carry more than is ours to hold. Over time, that can contribute to depletion, compassion fatigue, vicarious trauma, disconnection and a loss of reflective capacity.
Attending to your nervous system after session is not self-indulgent. It is part of ethical, sustainable and trauma-responsive practice.
Practical ideas for regulation and support after the session
The reality is that many practitioners do not have the luxury of a long pause after a hard session. There may be notes to write, a school meeting to attend, a parent to call, or another client waiting.
That is why post-session support needs to be both compassionate and realistic.
Here are some gentle practices that may help after an activating session:
Pause before you push on
Even one or two intentional minutes can make a difference. Before you move straight into notes or the next task, stop and notice what is happening inside of you.
Check in with your body
Ask yourself: What am I noticing in my body right now? Tightness, shakiness, nausea, heat, tears, heaviness, exhaustion? Naming your experience can help bring you back into relationship with yourself.
Orient to the present
Look around the room. Feel your feet on the ground. Notice the chair underneath you. Let your nervous system register that the session is over, and that you are here now.
Use brief grounding strategies
Slow breathing, stretching, washing your hands mindfully, drinking water, stepping outside, opening a window, or gently shaking tension out of your body can all support nervous system regulation.
Let regulation come before analysis
Sometimes we try to jump straight into sense-making before our body has settled. Often, we need regulation before reflection.
Write reflective notes for yourself
Not formal case notes, but brief questions such as:
What felt most activating in that session?
What am I carrying right now?
What feels like mine, and what belongs to the child, parent or system?
What support do I need before I continue?
Seek co-regulation where appropriate
Sometimes what helps most is not more thinking, but safe connection. This might look like a brief check-in with a trusted colleague, bringing the session to supervision, or simply being with someone safe later in the day.
Create a transition ritual
A cup of tea, three slower breaths, stepping outside, placing both feet on the floor before writing notes, or listening to one grounding song in the car. Small rituals can help signal completion and safety to the body.
Notice the urge to rush into action
After a difficult session, urgency can rise quickly. Sometimes action is needed. But sometimes urgency is part of activation. Where possible, pause long enough to discern the difference.
When additional support might be needed
Sometimes a hard session stays with us for a little while, and with rest, reflection and regulation, we gradually settle. At other times, the impact lingers in a way that needs more support.
Additional support may be needed when:
you continue replaying the session long after it has ended
your sleep is impacted
you notice dread, emotional exhaustion or disconnection building over time
you feel unusually reactive, fragile or shut down across several days
the session has stirred something significant from your own history
you are struggling to think clearly or make grounded clinical decisions
you are carrying the session alone and feel unsure what to do with it
the work is affecting your body, relationships or sense of self
These may be signs that the session needs to be brought to supervision, consultation, debriefing, or your own therapeutic support.
There is real strength in recognising when something is too much to hold alone.
In helping professions, there can be an unspoken pressure to hold everything well, stay steady, keep moving and be the calm one in the room. But sustainable practice does not come from pretending we are unaffected. It comes from learning to notice impact, respond with care, and seek support when needed.
An invitation for support
If a session has left you activated, tender, unsettled or exhausted, it does not mean you are failing. It does not mean you are too sensitive. And it certainly does not mean you are not meant for this work.
Sometimes it means you were deeply present.
Sometimes it means something important was touched in the room.
Sometimes it means your nervous system did exactly what nervous systems do when they come close to fear, pain, vulnerability or distress.
Practitioner wellbeing is not only about preventing burnout at the far end of exhaustion. It is also about these smaller, quieter moments after session, the moments where we choose to notice ourselves, to respond with care, and to honour our humanity alongside our professionalism.
This is where reflective supervision, curiosity and self-compassion matter so much.
Reflective practice invites us to ask not,
What is wrong with me for feeling this?” but rather, “What happened in that session, what was stirred in me, and what do I need now?”
That kind of reflection is not separate from good practice. It is part of it.
Perhaps this is part of what long-term sustainability looks like in child and family work: not becoming hardened by what we witness, but learning how to stay open-hearted without carrying it all alone.
If this blog post has brought to mind a recent session that stayed with you, stirred something personal, or left you carrying more than feels sustainable, supervision may be a supportive next step.
Supervision offers a space to slow down, reflect on what happened in the room, explore your nervous system response with compassion, and think more clearly about your practice, boundaries and support needs.
You do not have to hold the impact of this work alone. If you’re looking for a reflective, trauma-informed space to support your growth, wellbeing and sustainability as a practitioner working with children and families, you’re welcome to reach out. Lets explore what supervision can look like together.
Until next time, take care.
Ashleigh
