In medical school, we undergo intensive training to recognize and diagnose depression, evaluate suicidal thoughts, and accurately document risks. We become acquainted with screening instruments, safety protocols, and frameworks that provide organized approaches to mental health challenges. However, a crucial aspect often neglected in our training is emotional literacy. While some hold that managing emotions is a skill honed over time, the lack of deliberate instruction can result in learning it through personal struggles, fostering detachment or burnout instead of insightful introspection and support. As the healthcare system increasingly focuses on efficiency, there is a danger of confusing emotional suppression with professionalism, which leaves healthcare providers ill-equipped to connect empathetically with patients or manage their own emotional challenges.

This deficiency in training becomes apparent, particularly during psychiatry rotations when students engage with suicidal individuals. These encounters are highly emotional, requiring more than scripted inquiries and safety protocols. Once the formal procedures are exhausted, a silence often ensues that calls for authentic presence, an element many of us were unprepared for. For example, during one of my initial interactions with a patient who attempted suicide, I felt adrift despite rehearsing all crucial questions and assessments. The patient’s statement, “I do not think I will ever feel OK,” rendered me speechless, worried that an incorrect reply could worsen their situation. In my uncertainty, I resorted to jotting down notes and quietly acknowledging their suffering, which later filled me with shame for failing to engage meaningfully in that crucial moment.

Medical training provides us with the technical competencies to diagnose and treat but falls short in equipping us to navigate the emotional aspects of patient care. Skills such as being present with pain, allowing space for suffering, and recognizing our own emotional reactions without guilt are infrequently covered. Yet, these are essential clinical abilities crucial for effective patient care across all fields, not solely in psychiatry. The absence of structured education in managing grief, such as when a patient dies by suicide, compels students to confront significant loss largely unsupported, heightening the risk of isolating emotional repercussions.

When emotional literacy is not formally imparted, students may unintentionally develop detachment, seeming emotionless to patients. This lack of skills results in students, similar to my past self, who engage in clinical interactions passively and without commitment. This detachment risks emotional numbing and empathy burnout, damaging for both patients and healthcare providers. Holding emotional pain with care necessitates practice, mentorship, and a space conducive to reflection and development, all components that can be taught and incorporated into medical education.

Medical students merit curricula that integrate emotional literacy with conventional medical training to cultivate competent, compassionate clinicians. Incorporating simulations, role-playing, and debriefing sessions emphasizing emotional skills alongside clinical knowledge would promote deep listening, compassionate responses, and maintaining presence in discomfort. Training should include expressing uncertainty and demonstrating vulnerability, fostering doctors who heal, not just diagnose.

Emotional literacy stands alongside clinical skill as a vital dimension of medicine, encompassing the science and artistry of patient care. To improve patient outcomes and provider well-being, medical education must acknowledge and prioritize emotional skills as core competencies fundamental for comprehensive medical practice.