I'm Fine
My friend Karen recently posted on Instagram, ‘this is what depression looks like’ and there was a picture of people’s faces all happy and smiling when in truth, all those people suffer from depression or other mental health issues. I remember thinking ‘how true is that?” I look back to people who have inspired me or made me laugh and have often been surprised by the demons they faced and yet how ‘normal’ they appeared to the rest of us. But then I remember, this is exactly how I appeared to the world, courageous, a fighter, confident, funny. Most people actually know me for my laugh and people have often said, when I’ve left a job, that that is what they would miss, the energy, the jokes, the laughter (I’d like to think I was also good at my job but you know, we can’t have everything!)
When I was young, I loved drama and if I got the opportunity to undertake funny roles that would make people laugh I would. It was instinctive to me and I’ve no idea how I did it, but it was that sense of humour that kept me going through the bad times. However, just like some of those who inspired me, I had my brave face, my mask to the world (ironic, given our present situation) that told everyone that I was FINE. Nothing to see here folks, just happy smiley me, great life, great kids, just peachy.
But the majority of my early life was far from peachy. Out of respect for my parents I choose not to spill all the details. My parents did the best they could with the tools they had in the box and lots of stuff they did teach me was really worthwhile and stood me in good stead for my future. However, I left home around 16/17 and it was only when my eldest reached 16 that I realised how young he seemed even though he obviously felt very grown up! For many years, I had gone to school wearing my brave face and that continued into adulthood. I remember going through my training with the RAF and one of the challenges (for character development apparently) was to complete an assault course, with obstacles at height. I suffer horribly from vertigo, so the only way I could get around it was to crack jokes. We were meant to complete it twice, but I was literally so slow, we could only do it once (such a shame). I struggled horribly in relationships but to the outside world, everything was ‘fine’.
Is a Brave Face Useful?
So, what is my point here? Was it useful for me to have that brave face? Well, yes, in some ways it was and if I am fearful of something even now, I put on my brave face and march on (prepared) into the world. However, I ‘choose’ to feel uncomfortable now as in, it is to improve my own development or getting the message out to a wider audience that might involve working with platforms I am not comfortable with, but there is a higher sense of purpose.
In some ways though that brave face was not useful. The young me had built an impermeable wall where no one could really get in, to know the real me and I’m not sure, for the same reason, if I truly connected with other people. I never realised it at the time. I thought I was empathetic, a great manager, a great employee. I didn’t think I had a lot to learn. How arrogant was I?
Then one day, the world as I knew it stopped. I broke down. It didn’t happen in the way I expected. In truth, I had no idea what to expect. I kind of ‘imploded’. Just like when my car battery died and it kind of did this pathetic cough as I switched on the ignition; I just couldn’t start me up. I sat on my sofa for days, over Christmas by myself, after my boys had gone to their dads and thought of nothing. It wasn’t until a friend of mine gently asked if I could be suffering from depression, that I even thought of seeking help. I did some research on the NHS website and thought, ‘perhaps she has a point’ and booked to see the doctor. From then on, it was a year-long recovery process using medication, counselling and NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming). I was pretty much open to anything that would restore me to the person I used to be and actually, because of the experience I think I am now a much better, well informed version of that person.
My breakdown essentially forced me to pull myself apart and put myself back together and I did that without anyone, apart from my closest friends knowing. I told no one at work and didn’t take time off. Why? Because no matter how much we try and raise awareness and highlight that more and more people are suffering, it is hard to see the signs; we as human beings don’t want to tell people for fear of being seen as a failure or weak or a burden and managers can’t always tell. Firstly, because their employees are putting on their brave face and secondly as a manager, sometimes, to get into that space requires them to feel uncomfortable. My own mother committed suicide and yet I didn’t recognise the signs. I’m not saying I didn’t see any, I just didn’t have the skills to deal with it and frankly, it scared me. At work, no one wanted to mention it, they just didn’t know how to start the conversation.
I recently watched the documentary ‘Our Silent Emergency’ with Roman Kemp. Focussed on young men, this was an emotional, honest attempt at understanding the reasons why so many young men die without asking for help. In fact, one survivor said that moments before he attempted suicide, his mother phoned, asked him how he was, and his response was ‘I’m fine’.
Our Culture and Beliefs
We as individuals are fiercely proud. Our British culture is ‘stiff upper lip’. There are under the radar messages in companies that long hours are expected (even admired), targets need to be achieved etc. etc. etc. I was a single mother, a senior project manager and I was working in excess of 50hrs a week at some points and not declaring the overtime. Why? Because it was another task to do in a system that I didn’t feel like doing and declaring it felt like I was showing off. At the time I had also been seconded to another project and we were re-bidding for the contract. I held the belief that I had to work harder than ever as I wasn’t sure if I would have a job at the end of it. With no family support, that put a lot of pressure on me as the provider. All of these things had their part to play. When I did admit my breakdown once I had recovered, my bosses and colleagues were shocked. I was the last person they expected to suffer and the fact they hadn’t noticed (well they weren’t telepathic) made them realise that anyone was susceptible.
With a dramatic increase in remote working, people feel under even more pressure to show they are working, lest others think they have their feet up watching daytime TV. Add to that the disconnection with cameras not being on and the fact that we can’t easily tap into body language to give us a hint that things may not be well, and you get my drift. Now I am not saying it is all negative, but, when you layer those pressures on top of personal issues, balancing childcare with work, suffering trauma or illness, caring for loved ones who are sick, holding down a relationship, on top of social media pressing us to look or act in a certain way, to have the perfect life, the perfect body, the impact of Covid (I feel out of breath just reading all of that), is it any wonder that we feel we are on a constant hamster wheel and why mental health issues are on the rise?
Yes, there is the support and help to deal with it; many companies have fantastic programmes in place, but often to aid those who have already recognised they have issues, but what about us, as individuals recognising the signs ourselves, to head things off at the pass before things spiral out of control?
I look at my own friends who have suffered or are suffering from cancer. I look at others who have suffered bereavement. I look at women, around my age or younger, struggling with menopause symptoms. I look at people struggling with relationship and divorce issues. I look at our young people, isolated and afraid about the future. Do we honestly expect them to put their brave face on all the time, so the rest of us don’t have to feel their pain? Does that say more about us than it does about them? Where did our compassion go as human beings?
I learned a lot from my depression. I learned that it had crept up on me over time. I learned that I thought life was just a bit ‘meh’ and that’s how it was. I learned that I had strived to be the perfect mother, employee, manager, partner and drove myself hard not only at work but also to keep physically fit. What I didn’t work hard at, because I didn’t realise I had to, was keeping myself mentally fit.
Part of my healing involved working with a fantastic NLP coach; in just 4 sessions, the results were transformational. I broke patterns of behaviour, saw things from a completely different perspective and have never, to this day, gone back to that dark place. I am not saying that NLP is the panacea to world peace, there are many therapies that have worked for other people just as well, but NLP has been instrumental in me discovering me. I am kinder to myself and others, with a much greater understanding of mental health than I ever did before.
I was so intrigued by the results that I qualified as an NLP Coach and the training taught me, layer by layer, that we have the capacity to help ourselves. Fundamental things like choice (we have it), permission (we can give ourselves it), perception (we can increase our awareness of others).
So, what can we do? Firstly, remember this is not a ‘one size fits all’ and these are just some things we can try:
· Choice: We have the choice to do overtime or not; to not do every single chore that we think needs doing; to take some time out for ourselves to recharge
· Curiosity: When did we last get really curious about other people? I don’t mean nosy. But when someone says, ‘I’m fine’, how curious are we as to what lies behind those words? Next time we meet friends or colleagues, imagine life through their lens and notice what you see or feel. It might prompt us to ask different, slightly more probing questions
· Self-Reflection: Imagine watching your life on a movie screen. What do you notice about the speed, the expression on your face, the images, the people around you, the feelings it evokes? If it isn’t overly positive, what one thing (that is within your gift to action) could you change and if you did and you replayed the movie, what is now different?
· Permission: We can give ourselves permission to do or not do something rather than wait for someone else to give it.
· Honesty: Next time we are asked how we feel, try being honest. Remember, the person who has asked is not telepathic. It doesn’t mean we have to bare our soul 24/7 with everyone’s eyes glazing over but how will things change if we maintain the ‘I’m fine’ approach? Often, we have decided in our heads what the predictable outcome of that conversation will be and in all honesty the end result often doesn’t reflect what we thought.
Never before had I realised how much of ourselves that we bring to the workplace is based on our childhood, our experiences, our challenges, the patterns of behaviour we have adopted as a result of all of that and yet, we are constantly told to leave our personal lives at home. I heard a fantastic quote on a podcast the other day that said, ‘if you live your life as that person, you will be that person’, so in essence if we continue to live our lives through our own lens we can’t truly connect with other people in their world. Once we are comfortable in being uncomfortable in their space, then we can be truly compassionate, understanding and make different decisions regarding our own behaviour. Why is that so difficult in the workplace? Because we are all ‘fine’.