Damn Good - Day 21

Friday 21st December 2018 

21 Shillings make a Guinea - although no longer circulated (it ceased being minted in 1814),
the term guinea survives as a unit of account in some fields, including horse racing, Oxbridge May
Ball tickets and the sale of rams to mean an amount of one pound and one shilling (21 shillings)
which is £1.05. It was the first English machine-struck gold coin, originally worth one pound sterling,
equal to twenty shillings, but rises in the price of gold relative to silver caused the value of the guinea
to increase, at times to as high as thirty shillings. From 1717 to 1816, its value was officially
fixed at twenty-one shillings.

I am not going to be back in the office until after Christmas - it has been so full-on over the past few days and weeks that that feels really weird. We had a great party last night. Today I am driving to Somerset to take my mother to hospital. All being well, she and I are looking forward to going out to dinner tonight with friends and some other members of the family. It will be wonderful to spend some quality time with loved ones. The older I get the more I appreciate the importance of love and relationships. Is there someone or some people you can see or renew contact with at this festive time? My mother is sliding into severe dementia; I am so glad that we made and cherished our moments together over the years, as you can never get that time back.

Today's post is reflective and open. It is by Sara Duxbury, whose post last year caused a lot of positive and active discussion about mental health, friendship and the workplace.  Sara is an amazing lady, full of energy and ideas; she works as a business psychologist and is Head of Commercial at Carter Corson. After studying Psychology, Sara commenced her career in Retail and held operational roles before moving into Learning and Development and through that into HR. She has been an award winning HR Director with particular expertise in Professional Services. Sara has an excellent reputation as a thought-leader and is an active and engaging member of the social media community; you can connect with her on Twitter (her handle is @SaraJDux).

All the illustrations and music in this post were selected by Sara herself.

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#MyStory – the sequel

If last year’s blog was about putting myself out there, this year is about how I lost myself out there.

When I wrote my Advent Blog this time last year (http://kategl.blogspot.com/2018/01/mystory-day-37.html)  the response I received was completely unprecedented. I was incredibly humbled by words of respect, admiration, love and the “we knew you were mad, and we love you anyway”. I was in fact quite speechless (which for those who know me, you will know the world must have been considerably quieter for a moment!). The whole experience at the time, felt like the ultimate high five!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmDzqWqTXa8

Martin Luke Brown - Opalite

When I reflect on the year that has passed since, I can see that there have been unexpected consequences, which have caused me heartache

Having a public support network meant that what I used to keep private, I now get support from my work colleagues and my friends – I have help. I bet you’re thinking how can this be a bad thing Sara? But all my coping strategies involved up until then… me. To now have people caring and wanting to share the burden was and is strangely difficult. I find it hard not to withdraw.

My self-confidence took a serious battering – I felt afraid and doubted myself. I still do on an hourly/daily basis. By being so honest to myself, I think I have made myself vulnerable and my imposter syndrome just LOVES that. I’m still learning how to channel that negative drain into positive energy.

My worst fear did come true – some people did and do judge me. Some do view my behaviour without understanding where it might be coming from. I think if they could spend some time inside my head, they might be kinder?

I’m overdoing it – my off-switch has completely left the building. You know you need to look at your wellbeing when you are conducting a three-week sleep study on yourself to determine if you are getting enough sleep! Maybe I think I need to prove myself more? (see previous two points)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dmQ3QWpy1Q

Linkin Park & Kiiara – Heavy

I remember disagreeing with quite a few people last year who described me as brave. I feel more like this year I have needed to be brave, and I think I will need to continue to be brave to begin/carry on making good choices in this brave new Dux world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwPa71UZRaQ

The Wombats – Lemon to a Knife Fight

I can only do my best and I think I need to learn that my best is good enough. Hope is seeing photos of me like the below (thank you Kelly Swingler!) where I see captured, just for a moment, a glimpse of that girl who still gets so much joy from a wonky life (especially if it involves tacos!).

So, if you are someone who doesn’t struggle with your mental health, use your powers for good.

To quote this awesome girl I know: “My biggest hope is that by sharing my story, you who are sitting there battling on both sides, or you managing someone with mental health struggles. Look at me and see you CAN be the best version of you, be DAMN good at what you do, and be a bit bat-shit crazy” Here’s to hope…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_5WHnQd9pY

Curtis Walsh – Full Recovery

Dawning through the dark - Day 4

Day 4 (Wednesday 4th December 2018)

May the Fourth be with you

Today I am spending with my industry regulator undertaking what they describe as a "culture sprint". The intention is for us to devise ways in which we can make Financial Services an environment in which people feel comfortable speaking out when they are concerned and/or if they see something that should be stopped or changed.  Cultures of blame, fear and hierarchy are increasingly being proven to be harmful to all working within them and research shows that this is also true for customers, clients and the wider community. Perhaps my day ahead is what triggered me to post this piece, which was first seen in December last year. I know that the author has had a turbulent year full of change and challenge. The way she copes and the amount she achieves on behalf of and for others is inspiring. In accordance with this year's Advent Blog themes - I would like to award her a "High Five" - she has and is experiencing "Heartache" but there is "Hope" for the future.

She is extraordinarily caring - I should know because I have seen her in action: encouraging desperate children living on the streets in Uganda and supporting the staff trying to help them turn their lives around; doing mad things that she hates doing, in order to raise funds for the charities she supports (Retrak, Team Margot and the Anthony Nolan). I am also privileged to have her as part of my team and to see, on a daily basis, her skill in helping people learn and achieve their potential; she possesses and extraordinary ability to enhance individual lives. Her name is Donna Hewitson. Following a tough childhood, spending her teenage years in foster care, she came into HR when her talent with people was spotted whilst she was working in an operational role behind a bar. If you want to know more, read the article published in HR Magazine about her last November. Her career success is entirely due her own determination, natural skill and attitude. She is active on social media (her Twitter handle reflects her roots: @PubDonna). 

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This year has challenged me in ways I never expected. I have had to adapt, change and morph into the next incarnation of me; a bit like the new Doctor Who (I’ve never seen it, but I get the drift).

I have still not yet developed into the next person I need, or want, to be. But, I know what that will look like, and feel like, to me.

How do I see the person who saw out 2016? I see someone who was so focussed on filling the gap in their soul, it became all encompassing. Not “A” gap, “The” gap. It was deep, so deep-rooted, that I’m not sure if I truly knew who I was, or wanted to be. When I found myself in that space, I defaulted to the “it’ll be fine, it’s just a dip, it will get better.” It had to, didn’t it? What were my options otherwise?

September 2016 changed all that and guided me onto a new path, in a totally different direction, a path, on which, I can say I feel truly complete. Even if, at times, it feels like I’m travelling the wrong way up a one-way street.

My brain is odd. It is constantly going at a gazillion miles per hour; do this, sort that, always say yes and work out the “how” after. Always thinking “what next, what can I do bigger, bolder, stronger, better, how can I make my life, our life, better, what difference can I make to the world we live in?” If I got hit by a bus tomorrow, so what? That kind of stuff. It’s fair to say that it’s never a dull moment “up there”. But it weighs. Heavily. I spend so much of my time seeking to understand the troubles and challenges of others, and stretching myself to find a solution, that I forget about me. And then it comes. The dark descends, and it envelops all of me. 

But my face cannot change, I will not allow for others to see the impact of, metaphorically, the rocks I’ve been gifted weighing down the backpack I’m carrying. Then the mask slips and “ta da”, I find myself vulnerable with other people seeing the darker side of me.

I’m OK with that now. It’s important. With the best will in the world, maintaining the expected face all the time is a big old ask. Impossible.

I cried at work today. Twice. That’s OK. It’s also OK for other people to see me showing emotion. The reason for me being so emotional today? Someone showed, quite publicly, appreciation. I find this hard to accept. When I relayed to hubby, he immediately said WTF? You don’t cry. 16yrs we’ve been together, and he’s not seen “that face” often. This face I have suppressed for many years, but a wise and wonderful lady taught me it was, indeed, “cool to cry”.

Friends who know it's #CoolToCry

I am not a machine. I now express my emotions, I do speak freely, and directly (it’s not to everyone’s liking), I operate very efficiently and, for the most part, can keep my shit in check. There are times, however, when I am not able to. I don’t want to. I recognise this and I’m OK with it. It weirds me out, but I’m really thankful, for the first time in my life, I am able to me. Truly me.

I have many faces (thanks to Phil Willcox for educating me on this subject) and it is for me to choose which face I show. I can mask it, or share it. I choose the latter. The response from people who constantly tell me how strong I am, how inspirational my story is, the good I’m doing equal those people, who know me well, who express concern, tell me stop, slow down, take time for me.

What concerns me? I know it will not all be plain sailing and I’m sure that I will get burned sharing so much of me. I am vulnerable, I will be susceptible, and I will get turned over. I have spent years protecting myself and had built a fortress around my heart. 

It will take time to unpick, unlearn, re-learn and build confidence. I am thankful to have the most brilliant people around me, who trust me, believe in me and afford me the space to be me. All of me. The good, the great, the bad and the downright shite. How I respond, and not react, will make the difference of whether I see the start of the darkness descending or the beginning of a new dawn.

Nina Simone singing "Feeling Good"

Life in Chiaroscuro - Day 52

Day 52 (Sunday 21st January 2018)

52 - the age at which Harry Houdini died - by this time he had amazed and baffled people
in much of Europe, Russia and the U.S.A. On 21st January 1903 he escaped Halvemaansteeg
police station in Amsterdam. 1903 was the year when Houdini really became an icon - he was
already known for being good at escaping handcuffs but he now began to make a name
for breaking out of jails. he also managed to break into a safe for a Moscow locksmith
(who had been trying to do so for 14 years) revealing a treasure trove of jewels and
earning Houdini $750 for 9 hours work (a significant sum at the time).

Today is my husband's birthday and we are going out for a family lunch. His mother is coming to celebrate with us. She is finding life without her husband very hard. Death is, in so many ways, so painful for those of us left behind.

The post you read today is by Jacqueline Davies. It is open, honest and at times a painful read (as well as being the second post in a row with a wonderful poem  written by the contributor). Jacqueline says much about herself below, so I will only say a few words... Some of you may remember Jacqueline's Call To Arms in the final post of last year's series. At the time of writing last year she was the Master of the Guild of Human Resource Professionals (@GuildHRprofs) and the first openly lesbian Master of any City of London Guild. She was also the HR Director for the FCA (the regulatory body for much of the Financial Services industry) - a huge and demanding role. In her post she made a statement of the role of HR that has resonated with me this year, we need to be:

"standard bearers for the best of what it means to be human. To hold ourselves and others to account and to be provocative when we see integrity or conduct threatened."

I genuinely believe that HR as a profession is in the best position I have ever known it to be in. Increasingly leaders, colleagues, clients and the communities in which we work are becoming aware of the importance of culture and conduct. That does not mean we should be complacent or smug - someone in HR clearly turned a blind eye to inappropriate behaviour in Miramax when Harvey Weinstein was at his most predatory. We need HR to be the moral compass (it is no coincidence that a compass is the symbol of the HR Guild here in the UK) and to ask the difficult questions. Since leaving the FCA Jacqueline has teamed up with Tania in their own business consultancy and I think you can tell from its name that she will not be shrinking from facing things head-on - Audacity Associates. In addition, she is an advisor to the Henley Business School, a Governor of Middlesex University and Chair of the National Skills Academy for Financial Services. You can connect with her on social media - her Twitter handle is @JacquelineLD.

The beautiful Chiaroscuro paintings and photographs used to illustrate this piece have all been selected by Jacqueline.

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The Italian’s use the term Chiaroscuro to describe scenes painted in ‘light-dark’, how tonal contrasts are created to provide shape, show character and tell stories.

Life in Chiaroscuro

Seven years ago my mother died. More precisely, I gave my consent for her life support to be switched off, then she died. This decision has weighed heavily with me, replaying while I wait for sleep and returning at dawn before I can crowd it out with plans for the day. This isn’t a post about grief, it’s a post about how we can re-mix the colours on our palette to make sense of living with both darkness and dawn. How I’ve learned that a ‘Chiaroscuro filter’ can distinguish the things that matter from the beautiful, daily distractions that fill our life’s canvas.

You see I lost my Mum some thirty years earlier. She disappeared inside a black cloak of depression. Up-to this point, she loved us unconditionally and taught us how to love back. As we progressed though high school, quite suddenly everything changed. She was unable to go out, unable to get up and when she did was so heavily medicated that when we looked into her eyes we couldn’t find her. This would mean returning from school never knowing if she would be in the kitchen or in bed or if the paracetamol packets would be empty. My father, a steelworker worked around the clock. My younger sister and I found coping strategies. I had wanted to be a painter, but being the oldest, I took charge and I followed my father’s lead; I dropped Art, working relentlessly until I could flee to university. I didn’t stop; travelling like a train through a tunnel, on and on while decades flashed by through the half-light.

The Young Singer by Georges de La Tour

Then, just before I turned 40, the same age Mum was when she became ill, I sat in the hospital, holding her hand and let her go. Just a year before, I had become a Mum and the wonder of holding a new life while letting another go, meant that even the most brilliant moments were outlined by loss.

I took a year out from paid work but I didn’t stop. We moved house, I also took on the Chair of a national charity and wrote a book. I then returned to work and ploughed on. Alongside this, becoming ‘THE BEST MUM I CAN POSSIBLY BE’ became my chief preoccupation. As any new parent will tell you, our radiant daughter brought a new type of light into our lives. It was initially, searing, so bright, I had to blink through the first year learning to adjust to the profound joy and then to the greying fear that arrived. Fear of loss, fear of repeated patterns, fear of not knowing what to do next. Learning how to live with this felt like picking glass splinters from my heart.

Madonna and Child with St Anne by Caravaggio (c1605-6)

Some seven years later, I sat still in a hospital bed watching the sun rise and fall through an oxygen mask. Pneumonia had pressed the pause button on my life. A close friend, shared a conversation with her husband that stopped me in my tracks; ‘your on the top of our list to go first because you’re living faster than anyone else’. In the year that has followed this I’ve stopped permanent work and started painting again. I’m learning to slow down, middle age is helping. I’m learning to look, to see darkness and dawn as an artist might. Noticing the line and shadow in the everyday and being able to distinguish what really matters and to teach this art to my daughter.

Photograph of an apple by Jimmy Wen

I wrote this poem to make sense of things.

Three Daughters

After you left us I waited,

Holding your hand until the silence

Holding my breath until

       the sun came up again and I could escape outside

Gulping the new morning air

And watching the circling gulls

       shrieking their songs of loss and longing, high above the hospital car park

I mostly remember your hands

How they put plasters on my grazes

Turned pages at bedtime

       stirred pots, brimming with love

These are my hands now

Life hardened palms

Stretching out to reach my daughter

       to teach her how to hold time

       and when to watch the sky.

Detail from "Rest on the Flight into Egypt" by Caravaggio (c1586)

The Mother Song, written and performed by Andrea Menard

A dawning through the dark - Day 13

Day 13 (Wednesday 13th December 2017)

13 is known as a "Baker's Dozen". 
There is a traditional festive tale, originating in Dutch colonial New York, 
about Van Amsterdam the baker, famous for his honesty and his St Nicholas cookies.
However, he was pedantic - giving customers exactly what they asked for, nothing more and 
nothing less. He is cursed by a crone for declining to give her 13 cookies when she requested
a dozen on St Nicholas' feast day. Over a year his business dwindles and fails. However, after dreaming 
of St Nicholas' generosity and a further visit from the crone, the baker mends his ways and 
from henceforth gives 13 cookies when asked for a dozen. Other bakers emulated him and hence the 
"Baker's Dozen" became a term. The phrase "Baker's Dozen" actually originates from medieval law 
that specified the weight of loaves, to avoid punishment bakers would offer an extra loaf to ensure that t
he required weight was met. Illustration by Wendy Edelson in "The Baker's Dozen: A Saint Nicholas Tale"

I had an amazing day yesterday - a day of personal learning about myself and others followed by chairing a Committee on Quality of Patient Care and patient, community and worker Engagement in London. The evening was humbling, hearing how the staff and medical professionals at two of London's leading hospitals (and the wider Trust of which they are part) are raising standards and rising to the challenges of the current environment - cash is tight, patient numbers are increasing, the pressure on people working at the Trust is immense, and yet they remain constant, focused and dedicated to providing appropriate care for those in need. An example to us all.

Today's blogger is also extraordinarily caring - I should know because I have seen her in action: encouraging desperate children living on the streets in Uganda and supporting the staff trying to help them turn their lives around; doing mad things that she hates doing, in order to raise funds for the charities she supports (Retrak, Team Margot and the Anthony Nolan). I am also privileged to have her as part of my team and to see, on a daily basis, her skill in helping people learn and achieve their potential, and her ability to enhance individual lives. Her name is Donna Hewitson. Following a tough childhood, spending her teenage years in foster care, she came into HR when her talent with people was spotted whilst she was working in an operational role behind a bar. If you want to know more, read the article published in HR Magazine about her this November. Her career success is entirely due her own determination, natural skill and attitude. She is active on social media (her Twitter handle reflects her roots: @PubDonna) and she writes an excellent blog: PubDonna.com. 

**************************

This year has challenged me in ways I never expected. I have had to adapt, change and morph into the next incarnation of me; a bit like the new Doctor Who (I’ve never seen it, but I get the drift).

I have still not yet developed into the next person I need, or want, to be. But, I know what that will look like, and feel like, to me.

How do I see the person who saw out 2016? I see someone who was so focussed on filling the gap in their soul, it became all encompassing. Not “A” gap, “The” gap. It was deep, so deep-rooted, that I’m not sure if I truly knew who I was, or wanted to be. When I found myself in that space, I defaulted to the “it’ll be fine, it’s just a dip, it will get better.” It had to, didn’t it? What were my options otherwise?

September 2016 changed all that and guided me onto a new path, in a totally different direction, a path, on which, I can say I feel truly complete. Even if, at times, it feels like I’m travelling the wrong way up a one-way street.

My brain is odd. It is constantly going at a gazillion miles per hour; do this, sort that, always say yes and work out the “how” after. Always thinking “what next, what can I do bigger, bolder, stronger, better, how can I make my life, our life, better, what difference can I make to the world we live in?” If I got hit by a bus tomorrow, so what? That kind of stuff. It’s fair to say that it’s never a dull moment “up there”. But it weighs. Heavily. I spend so much of my time seeking to understand the troubles and challenges of others, and stretching myself to find a solution, that I forget about me. And then it comes. The dark descends, and it envelops all of me. 

But my face cannot change, I will not allow for others to see the impact of, metaphorically, the rocks I’ve been gifted weighing down the backpack I’m carrying. Then the mask slips and “ta da”, I find myself vulnerable with other people seeing the darker side of me.

I’m OK with that now. It’s important. With the best will in the world, maintaining the expected face all the time is a big old ask. Impossible.

I cried at work today. Twice. That’s OK. It’s also OK for other people to see me showing emotion. The reason for me being so emotional today? Someone showed, quite publicly, appreciation. I find this hard to accept. When I relayed to hubby, he immediately said WTF? You don’t cry. 16yrs we’ve been together, and he’s not seen “that face” often. This face I have suppressed for many years, but a wise and wonderful lady taught me it was, indeed, “cool to cry”.

Friends who know it's #CoolToCry

I am not a machine. I now express my emotions, I do speak freely, and directly (it’s not to everyone’s liking), I operate very efficiently and, for the most part, can keep my shit in check. There are times, however, when I am not able to. I don’t want to. I recognise this and I’m OK with it. It weirds me out, but I’m really thankful, for the first time in my life, I am able to me. Truly me.

I have many faces (thanks to Phil Willcox for educating me on this subject) and it is for me to choose which face I show. I can mask it, or share it. I choose the latter. The response from people who constantly tell me how strong I am, how inspirational my story is, the good I’m doing equal those people, who know me well, who express concern, tell me stop, slow down, take time for me.

What concerns me? I know it will not all be plain sailing and I’m sure that I will get burned sharing so much of me. I am vulnerable, I will be susceptible, and I will get turned over. I have spent years protecting myself and had built a fortress around my heart. 

It will take time to unpick, unlearn, re-learn and build confidence. I am thankful to have the most brilliant people around me, who trust me, believe in me and afford me the space to be me. All of me. The good, the great, the bad and the downright shite. How I respond, and not react, will make the difference of whether I see the start of the darkness descending or the beginning of a new dawn.

Nina Simone singing "Feeling Good"