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.