Self care is a word that gets used often in our field, and for good reason. There is a difference between knowing self care matters and having something practical to reach for when you actually need it. In end of life work, those moments can arrive without much warning: a death that lands closer to home than expected, a family in crisis, a long night that runs into the next day, or a visit where you know you have done good work, but your own heart, mind and body is still holding the weight of what you have witnessed.
This piece is not about the philosophy of self care, although we believe in that deeply. It is about the practical, specific and repeatable practices gathered from our community of end of life doulas over years of real experience. These are tools you can return to again and again, and reach for quickly when things feel big, tender, messy or overwhelming.
Self care does not have to be fancy, expensive, or perfectly scheduled. It does not have to look like a retreat, a day spa, or an ideal morning routine that often feels out of reach in everyday life. Those things can absolutely be a treat, but self-care can also be simple, ordinary, and woven into everyday life. Sometimes it is a cup of tea in your favourite mug, sitting in the car for five minutes before you drive home, booking supervision before you take on another family, or being honest enough to say, “I am not available for that today,” and trusting that this too is part of ethical practice.
So much of this work asks us to be present for others, and self care is one of the ways we remember that we are human ‘beings’ too, not only human ‘doings’. It is not something we earn once everyone else is cared for; it is part of how we remain able to care at all.
Preparing the Way’s founder and lead educator, Helen Callanan, often says, “You can’t pour tea from an empty pot.” We must be consistently refilling our pot.
Being prepared before you arrive
One of the most grounding things a doula can do is prepare well in advance, before a call even comes in. Barbara Zeller, one of our graduates in Victoria, describes this as treating readiness the way we might treat fire season: having what you need at the door before you need it, so that when the call comes you are not scrambling, searching or already running on stress before you have even left home.
Barbara recommends keeping what she calls an Emergency Doula Bag, a kit ready to go so that when a call comes, the basics are already gathered. Yours may look different over time, but it might include things like:
- An outfit ready in your wardrobe, ideally something with pockets and layers
- A water bottle, tea bags or coffee, and your own cup
- Your phone, charger and cord
- LED candles and batteries
- A pen and paper
- Cash and card
- Paperwork, ID, and any relevant leaflets or resources
- A small throw or pair of warm socks
- A toothbrush and toothpaste
- An essential oil
- A hand towel
- Something personal for the work, such as a book of prayers, a specific reading, or whatever fits you
Not every visit will require everything on this list, and over time you will learn what your own kit needs to contain. The point is not really the items themselves, but the act of preparation and the message it sends to your nervous system: you have thought ahead, you have what you need, and you are not walking into this work already scattered.
Knowing you are ready can reduce the anxiety that sometimes comes before difficult visits. It can help you arrive centred rather than rushed, and it can remind your body that you have done what you can to support yourself before you support someone else. For many of us, this is where self care begins, not after we are depleted, but before we walk through the door.
What to do with your body when things feel big
Sometimes what we need most is not a long conversation or a night of reflection, but something immediate and physical that we can do in five minutes in the car, in a hospital bathroom, outside a family home, or in the quiet of our own room. Our bodies often know before our minds do that something is too much: the breath gets shallow, the shoulders rise, the jaw tightens, and we might feel teary, numb, shaky, irritated, or simply very tired.
Having simple body-based practices can help us come back to ourselves in these moments. They do not erase what has happened, and they are not meant to, but they can help us return to the present moment and give the body a little more information that, right now, we are safe.
The 4-7-8 breathing technique
This technique, drawn from ancient yogic breathing practices and popularised by Dr Andrew Weil, is worth learning before you need it, because practising it regularly is what makes it more available in high stress moments. The practice is simple: sit comfortably with your back straight, exhale completely through your mouth with a whoosh sound, close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose for a count of 4, hold the breath for a count of 7, and then exhale completely through your mouth for a count of 8. That is one breath, and the cycle can be repeated three more times, for four breaths in total.
This is something worth building into your daily routine, not just saving for an emergency, because the more familiar your nervous system becomes with the pattern, the more readily it can respond when you call on it. We do not always need a big intervention; sometimes we need a simple, steady way to tell the body, gently and clearly, “You are safe right now, and you can soften.”
The hugging exercise
When you feel overwhelmed or disconnected from your own body, this simple somatic practice can help bring you back. Place your left hand underneath your right arm, and your right hand on your left shoulder, then close your eyes, hold yourself, and simply feel what you feel. Many people find this surprisingly settling, as it can create a sense of being held at exactly the moment you feel most untethered.
A variation is to place butterfly hands on your chest and gently alternate tapping, left and right. This gentle bilateral rhythm can help regulate the nervous system, and there is something very tender about the practice itself. Many of us are so used to holding others that we forget we are allowed to hold ourselves too.
The 5 senses grounding exercise
Kathy Bassett, one of our NSW graduates, recommends this exercise as a reliable way to come back to the present moment. It can be done almost anywhere, whether you are in a car park, a hospital corridor, a quiet corner of a room, or at home after a difficult day.
- Breathe in and out, then look around and identify 5 things you can see, including their shape and colour
- Notice 4 things you can touch or feel against your body, such as clothing, the chair, or the ground
- Identify 3 things you can hear, even something as subtle as your own heartbeat
- Notice 2 things you can smell, or simply the sensation of breath entering your nose
- Notice 1 thing you can taste in your mouth
- Finish with slow, calm breaths
This practice grounds you in your physical surroundings and interrupts the cycle of emotional overwhelm. It brings you back to where you are, rather than where your thoughts have taken you.
The safe place visualisation
Find a quiet moment, close your eyes, and imagine standing at the entrance to a place, real or imagined, where you feel completely calm and safe. It might be somewhere from your past, or somewhere you create in your mind. Step into this place and take your time noticing what is there: what you can see close by and far away, the colours and shapes, the sounds, the smells, and the feeling of the ground beneath your feet.
Breathe in the comfort of it and know that you can return here whenever you need to. Then gently step back out and slowly open your eyes. This practice can be especially helpful when the outer world is loud, busy or unpredictable, because it gives you somewhere internal to return to, a place that belongs only to you.
Processing what you carry
Physical tools can only go so far, and at some point, the weight of this work needs somewhere to go. End of life doulas are often invited into very intimate spaces. We hear stories families may not have told anyone else, and we witness love, conflict, regret, relief, fear, beauty, confusion and pain. We may sit beside people at the most vulnerable time in their lives, and while that is sacred work, it is also work that leaves an imprint.
It is not enough to be strong, and it is not enough to be kind. We need ways to process what we carry so it does not quietly accumulate in our bodies, our sleep, our relationships, or the way we show up for the next person.
Therapeutic writing
Kathy Bassett also suggests therapeutic writing as a practice for processing difficult or lingering experiences. You might think of a situation you want to work through and write a letter to yourself, or to anyone involved, allowing the themes to emerge without editing yourself. Anger, regret, sorrow, relief, confusion, tenderness and truth are all welcome on the page.
When you have finished, let it go in a way that feels right for you. Burn it, shred it, tear it into tiny pieces, or put it somewhere private. The act of release is part of the practice, because writing can help us find the words that did not come at the time, tell the truth somewhere safe, and notice what is ours, what is not ours, and what we may need to bring to supervision.
Talking it out, carefully
Rebecca Maddaford, who has worked across many high stress environments, is clear that talking is one of her most valuable tools, and she is equally clear about the conditions that make it work. Talking with trusted colleagues who share an understanding of discretion and privacy can help you offload, reflect on your practice, and consider what you might do differently next time.
This is quite different from talking to family or friends, who may care deeply but cannot fully understand the particular pressures of end of life work. Kate Carlin, from NSW, puts it plainly: “Personal support from family and friends is imperative but, they cannot and should not become your sounding board.”
Professional supervision, ideally monthly while you are actively working in end of life care, provides a safe container for the things you cannot bring home. It supports professional boundaries and helps you work through complex experiences with someone who understands the terrain. This is not a sign that you are not coping; it is a sign that you take the work seriously, and it is part of being response able, able to respond to what is in front of you while also being honest about what is happening within you.
Humour
This one requires careful handling, and Rebecca Maddaford names it knowing exactly what it is: humour has long been recognised for its therapeutic value and its role in resilience. Black humour, or gallows humour, has long been common among those who work in the helping professions, including doctors, emergency responders and mental health workers, because it can allow people to speak about difficult things in emotionally bearable ways.
It is not appropriate in every context, and it is never to be used at a client’s expense, but among trusted colleagues who understand the work, finding lightness in the darkness can be a genuine act of self-preservation. Sometimes laughter is not a lack of reverence; sometimes it is the nervous system finding a small doorway back to life.
Keeping your cup full
Sascha Costigan, a NSW graduate, offers an image worth sitting with: keeping your own cup full before it overflows to others. Whatever nourishes you, whether that is good food, rest, time in nature, laughter, music, quiet, movement, or being with people you love, is not indulgent. It is what sustains the work.
Sascha also speaks of knowing who your “good nutrients” are: the people in your life who replenish rather than drain you, who can be trusted with your difficult days. Out of those people, identifying who is safe to debrief with and investing in yourself the way you would invest in keeping a car running is an ongoing practice, not a one-off decision.
As we shared above, we often say that you cannot pour from an empty cup, but sometimes even that image asks too much of us. Sometimes the question is not, “How do I keep pouring?” but “What do I need to receive?” Fiona Umbers, a graduate in Victoria, captures something many of us have had to learn the hard way: the cape wears out. The one with Wonder Woman embroidered on it that we were so proud to wear does not last forever, and neither do we if we keep wearing it.
Knowing your limits, allowing yourself to heal between difficult visits, and learning your own triggers are all part of professional practice, not signs of weakness. Many of us came to this work because we care deeply, and we are often the people who notice what needs doing, step in, stay back, make the phone call, check again and remember the small details. These are beautiful qualities, but they are also the very qualities that can lead us to overextend if we are not careful.
Self care is not about caring less. It is about caring wisely.
There is no single prescription
What works for one person will not work for another. Some find their ground in a morning yoga practice, while others find it in a long walk, a swim, a garden, a good meal with a close friend, prayer, meditation, journalling, music, dancing in the kitchen, or sitting quietly with a cup of tea before the house wakes up. Some need silence, others need noise, some need solitude, and others need the right people around them.
What unites all these practices is intention. Self care does not happen by accident in this work; it must be chosen, prepared for, and returned to regularly and without guilt. As one of our graduates puts it, if we keep spending without making deposits, we will go bankrupt. Small, regular deposits are what keep us in the work, present for the people who need us, and honest with ourselves about when we need to step back.
This is not about becoming perfect at self care, because none of us are. It is about noticing sooner, returning sooner, and being kinder to ourselves sooner. It is about remembering that the same compassion we offer to others must also include us.
You deserve the same care you offer so freely to others. We encourage you to take it.
The self care practices, exercises and resources in this piece were gathered from Preparing the Way’s community of practitioners and its Masterclass Series on Vicarious Trauma. Masterclasses like this one are part of the ongoing support available to graduates of our Foundation Workshop and Intensive Course, which also includes exclusive resources, access to trainers and advisors, and regular Zoom Q&A sessions. Learn more about our training.