Overwhelmed

I said a couple of weeks ago that I would be writing something about late career flexible working. This isn’t that post. 

Although it is related.

Instead, I’ve brought forward a piece to catch up with UK Mental Health Week, and an inspiring talk, “Being Intentional About Wellbeing”, by Rob Stephenson, mental health campaigner and keynote speaker, (https://www.linkedin.com/in/robstephenson/) at the CIPD in Sussex Branch Annual Meeting in Crawley on 14th May.

One of Rob’s invitations in particular grabbed my attention. He encouraged us to reflect on a time when we experienced ‘Wellbeing Vulnerability’ and what lessons we may or may not have learned as a result. This blog is my reflection about a particular challenge I experienced last year.

Basically, I had painted myself into a corner. I had too many programmes in development for too many internal and external stakeholders, with too many deliverables and deadlines looming. I was starting to feel overwhelmed.

But I didn’t communicate that fact, and I didn’t ask for help. I tried to keep going, all the while giving myself a hard time for not admitting to this. It was my job, my responsibility to deliver. 

All this, of course, was amplified by the fact that I was not physically surrounded by colleagues. I was effectively ‘flying solo’ at home, with my interactions dictated by Teams calls and emails. Through the lens of the laptop screen, everyone else seemed to be coping - so it must just  be me. 

Although digitally ‘present and correct’, I was actually struggling and hiding. 

Eventually, I admitted how I was feeling to my wife, whose characteristic and pragmatic two-word advice was "Go sick!". I called in sick.

The release - and relief - was instant. Suddenly, the self-imposed distress of the previous weeks disappeared. Of course, this was immediately replaced by the guilt at having walked away and left work undone, colleagues more than likely having to step in and client programme delivery deadlines put at risk. And I was ashamed. After a week off, I contacted my GP and was signed off with stress. 

For the next few weeks, I only communicated with my Line Manager and the Head of HR, both of whom were 100% reassuring and who mobilised both the colleague support, to keep things on track in my absence, and the welfare support, communication and compassion I needed to enable me to return to work. 

When I felt better I went back to work in a staged return, and faced into a more supportive situation where work was more equally distributed, and where processes had been tweaked and roles/responsibilities (including mine) had been altered accordingly.

The wheels hadn’t come off; nobody died and all the programme deadlines were met!

That model effectively became our new way of working and continued successfully up until I left the CIPD amicably a few weeks ago. I am grateful to all my colleagues for supporting me through that challenging time and, indeed, for all their commitment and compassion throughout.

So what did I learn here? Self-care is difficult. Admitting to self-doubt is difficult. Asking for help is difficult. Not doing so leads to guilt, panic, shame, inauthentic behaviour and a spiralling sense of looming catastrophe (I’m being rubber-banded back to that time as I write this!).

So my ask of you is this: if you find yourself in a similar situation at work, if you feel yourself overwhelmed, spiralling into depression, unable to cope, fearful of being ‘found out' - own up to it. Ask for help. Talk to a friend, your partner, your manager, to your HR Team, to your employee assistance programme provider. 

Yes, it takes courage to show vulnerability, but in doing so, you will open the door to a world of help and support. And things will change and get better for you.

It worked for me.

Finding My Voice

I never liked my voice. 

Photo by Brad Neathery on Unsplash

As a late-developing teenager, I was the last lad in my year group at school whose voice ‘broke’. I can still hear the calls and laughter echoing down the corridor as the other lads would call out “Niall… Niall…” in high-pitched, squeaky voices. Even as I write this, my ears and cheeks burn at the memory. 

Ironic then that I went into school drama productions, sang in the school choir, joined a local Am Dram group and, when my voice eventually broke to a light tenor, went on to study and qualify with a diploma in Drama and the Spoken Word at college in Edinburgh. 

But I still didn’t like my voice. 

It did change tho’. At drama college, we were advised to lose our regional (Scottish) accents if we ever hoped to work professionally South of the border. Which is why those of you I have met or spoken with in any social or professional capacity over the last forty years will have detected a cadence, a rhythm, a quality to my voice which betrays my Paisley upbringing. 

Fast forward through twelve years as a professional actor, ten years as an IT Trainer, a further eighteen years managing IT and L&D Teams and another nearly ten years in freelance and employed L&D consultancy, oft times speaking and chairing at LPI, CIPD and Learning Technologies conferences and events. 

In short, I’ve earned my entire living and built my professional network, using the voice that I had grown up so disliking. 

But I also developed another voice; that of a contributor to professional debate and discussion about L&D, OD and HR on social media. I posted on Twitter, facebook, LinkedIn and I started writing and posting blogs (niallgavinuk.blogspot.com). I found I could express myself a little better, maybe even a little more impactfully, in writing and live streaming tweetchats. 

But recently, I lost that part of my voice again. Covid, and how it was being handled nationally, ultimately silenced me in that space. I had started posting politically and angrily. I had gone ‘off piste’. And it wasn’t serving me or those with whom I had built up a following on SoMe. 

So I stopped blogging. I stepped back from Twitter. I rarely showed up on LinkedIn. I felt I had nothing new to add to the professional conversation that wasn’t already being said - and said better - by others.  And I got out of the habit. 

By this time, I was working at the CIPD (the UK Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development), as a part-time Commercial Learning Consultant, starting during the first week of the first UK lockdown. I’d never worked for a membership organisation - indeed, any organisation - with such a large professional reach, and with such a loud and confident voice of its own. As the professional body for ‘the people profession’, it punches above its weight and has many internal, external, international - and vocal - champions. I’ve been a member for years.

So I didn’t feel the need to add to their stakeholder messaging - certainly not as an independent voice -  and certainly not when there were so many other influencers and leaders already amplifying their voice so effectively. 

So why this blog now? “Does this need to be said? Does it need to be said by me? Does it need to be said by me right now?” (Attrib: Craig Ferguson) 

Well, as of the end of April, and after four years of late-career flexible working, CIPD and I amicably parted company and I've been taking the time to settle and reflect on things. Several themes have emerged for me, the first being how to find my voice again after a three year period of virtual social media silence. I’ve done a couple of update posts on LinkedIn and on facebook and this blog is my first since 21st May 2021! Others are in the pipeline, depending on how this one lands. 

Early days, but I think I’m starting to find my voice again.