Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 December 2017

It's not all dark - Day 28

Day 28 (Thursday 28th December 2017)

28 December is, for many Christians, a day of distressing contemplation - it is
The Feast of the Holy Innocents, which commemorates the death of blameless male infants
slaughtered by King Herod in his attempt to destroy the newly born Jesus. You might be
interested to know that the 28 December is also the date when, in 2013, China eased its
One-Child policy, which had for many years resulted in the death of thousands of predominantly female infants.
We have our office Christmas Party this evening. Many firms, due to the diverse nature of the workforce have "Winterval" parties or a seasonal event, however, being a long-established UK business, we are remain traditional. 

Today's post is by the executive coach and company director Tony Jackson, who is well known to many on social media. He has a number of Twitter handles (depending on why/how you know him) - @Jacksont0ny is his personal account, @ChelshamConsult is his company account and lastly @t0nyjPhotos is his "third place" where you can often see some of his wonderful photos (as indeed you can in today's post as al the illustrations have been taken by Tony himself). Tony writes a fine blog that you can find on his business website, Chelsham.co/blog. Tony commenced his career by training to become an accountant before realising that he had a greater interest in people as opposed to numbers. He lives with his husband, Andrea, in South West London. His take on darkness and dawn is very personal and touches on difficult subjects, but it also has much to do with his penchant and talent for photography.

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My immediate reaction to this Advent Blog series’ theme was to ponder whether darkness is a negative and dawn a positive – or whether both can be either.  

Without darkness we cannot see the amazing glory of the night sky, it is harder to rest or sleep and some creative experiences cannot happen. We dim the lights for a reason, don’t we? Horrors dawn on us do they not?

In that light here is my offering, perhaps more a stream of consciousness than a blog this time……



Darkness

It took me 30 years of adult life to work out that the times when I haven’t been anywhere near at my best, when I haven’t really understood my own reactions to events around me, be it at play or at work, I have often been driven by anxiety.

There. I said it.

Most people I meet or with whom I work wouldn’t notice – I can cover it well.

However, anxiety has taken me to some dark places over the years and, in extremis, was even the catalyst for one of the very few ‘bad days’ in my relationship.  Over a decade ago (the year of two awful events which I mention below) my panic attack in a crowd ruined a long-awaited treat for my wonderful husband. Of course neither of us realised at the time that it had been a panic attack. A boss once asked me, baffled, why I had ducked out of an important team gathering. A workmate noticed that a real career success had only bred insecurity (“when will it be taken away from me?”). Hello Imposter Syndrome.

Good friends and relatives know that I sometimes have to work through anxieties to turn up to events. Friends laugh with me when they hear me say ridiculous things such as “will we get a table?” (answer of course: “if not we’ll go somewhere else”). In the mix is PTSD emanating from teenage experiences plus a physical assault at the age of 40 when I thought, I believed, I was in a safe space. Add to that the awfulness of the man I love being in that square when the bus blew up on 7/7  - this within weeks of the assault. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near there but had been displaced as events unfolded. The last message I received was “I’m getting on a bus at Euston”. Those two hours waiting to reach him were the longest of my life and then I had to work through the guilt of feeling so damaged even though neither of us had actually been hurt physically. Unlike so many.

I managed to reach out for help and we all need to recognise that not everyone can or will. It’s also why I started going to my detox retreats. I have discovered ways of self-soothing/self-healing and I commend this to you.

Being able to recognise this as anxiety has been the most remarkable breakthrough and has changed my life. I have a label for it. I can ask what the feeling is telling me instead of being confused about it. I know, yes I know, that I am a better person (and a better coach come to think of it) for having broken out of something which I simply thought was ‘my dark place’. A dark place which was worse at times than if the thing about which I was anxious had actually happened. What a waste of energy.

But if I have a plea it is this……please remember that if a colleague (be it the composed HRD or a successful, generally acutely self-aware executive coach ☺ ) is being a little ‘different’ at times there is almost always a reason. There may be interference in the form of anxiety or other mental health issues. We aren’t good enough at supporting colleagues with such issues and organisations which get this right will reap the rewards in terms of employee loyalty.  

On the other hand….

Darkness can be a place from which beauty emanates.

Photography is my ‘third place’.  The light I allow in through that shutter into the dark innards of my Nikon can create art.


I am at my happiest, and least anxious, mooching around with my camera then messing around on Lightroom (not in a dark room these days) in order to tweak the end results. I do it for me. Only for me.

That said I take genuine pleasure from others’ reactions to my work and have even splashed out on a website http://tonyjacksonphotography.com which is also for me but for you too …. if you want it.

Dawn

2017 was a year of dawning realisation for people who belong to minority groups – as do I. I know that I have enjoyed privilege as a white male but I have also experienced life as a gay man and I am troubled, anxious you might say, about the changes in the western world. (Let’s not talk about the 70 or so countries which we cannot visit for fear of imprisonment or worse).

Or are they actually changes? I thought that we had become more enlightened, that more people had learned to accept difference even if they did not or could not understand. I had taken heart from the vibrancy and multiculturalism of London 2012. I had read too much into what I perceived to be more inclusive times. That we had left behind the dark days of Section 28, of repeated failed attempts to introduce an equal age of consent and of zero employment law protection.  I and others had a false sense of security.


The dawning realisation? That the enlightened times which I thought we could take for granted were perhaps a mirage. Just look at some parts of Twitter from the perspective of a black man or a trans woman or a friend from another EU country or a refugee. Such hatred. Such unfiltered bigotry. Such joy in castigating difference. Maybe we had only suppressed it all – maybe it had never gone away.

It is deeply depressing and one has to work hard, really hard, to accentuate the positive. For we risk heading backwards and it falls to all of us both to fight prejudice and to shed positive light on the lives of others.  To be unpopular if needed as we stand up for others. To say that we will not allow a return to the darkness into which we know our fellow humans can descend.

And yet, I am delighted to say, there has been a dawning of even greater happiness for me this year.

Along came this chap – Dudley.


He radiates joy. He has the world’s waggiest tail (that’s official by the way). He is always happy to see me. He cures that anxiety. Most of the time. For sometimes it is I who is anxious when he is home alone. He just contentedly chews on his antler. He is a revelation.

Then, much more importantly, after 18 years together, and 10 years on from our civil partnership, Andrea and I married. For that is what we now can do. Let’s note that it was the much-maligned Coalition Government which made this happen. And they even set it up so that our marriage is backdated to the date of our CP. So we also had that dawning thought that, in one fell swoop, we had been married for a decade. Happy Tin Anniversary to us. Yay!

And can we all please notice that the only thing that has happened as a result of this legal change is that more people, their friends and their families have experienced merriment and joyfulness?

Not a completely dark time then.




 

Wednesday, 13 December 2017

The Darkness and Dawn of Miscarriage - Day 14

Day 14 (Thursday 14th December 2017)
14 - the age of James Lord Pierpont when he ran away to sea and joined a whaling ship. 
Pierpont was the composer of "Jingle Bells", the only Christmas song that doesn't mention Christmas.
(That is because it was commissioned by his father in 1857, for a Thanksgiving Service.)
"Jingle Bells" was the first tune played live in space. When astronauts Tom Stafford and Wally Schirra 
were preparing to re-enter Earth's atmosphere on 16 December 1965, Stafford contacted Mission Control 
to report a UFO. ‘We have an object, looks like a satellite going from north to south, probably in polar orbit . . . 
Looks like he might be going to re-enter soon . . . I see a command module and eight smaller modules in front. 
The pilot of the command module is wearing a red suit.’Before Houston could reply 
Schirra started playing "Jingle Bells" on a harmonica he had taken into space, 
accompanied by Stafford making jingling bells sounds. 
Pierpont, the composer, was the uncle of J.P. Morgan, the successful financier. Pierpont himself died in penury.
I am starting today with a four hour session on culture within Financial Services business - like most sectors, it is a mixed bag. Increasingly culture is being seen as important - my friend Tim Pointer (the former global HRD who founded Starboard Thinking - a consultancy that helps organisations enhance performance through leadership and cultural change) was the brains behind the establishment of the Business Culture Awards - due to his appreciation of culture's role in underpinning performance and engagement. I am proud of the fact that I work for a business and CEO who has been recognised for the work we have done to lead by example and enhance our organisation's culture and approach towards its people, clients and communities in which we operate. Just because you are in financial services it does not mean that you have to behave in an inappropriate and unethical manner. Being fair, caring and respectful should be the norm.

Today's piece is written by a highlyrespected HR expert - Janet Webb. Janet is an Associate Lecturer in HR and L&D for Chichester College's CIPD programme and is also a highly competent and valued consultant; she works via her own firm - Janet Webb Consulting, which she founded in September 2012, having previously worked within the public sector. She specialises in helping people to learn and grow. Janet uses "audacious" as a way of describing her work - it could also apply to her Advent Blog post. She is prepared to speak what few will say aloud. Like Day 9's post, this is a useful read both for those who have suffered a miscarriage but also for those around them who may not know what to say or how to react. She is active on social media and will, I am sure, be pleased to hear from you - her Twitter handle is @JWebbConsulting . 

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Darkness

Miscarriage is not the happiest of subject matters but a topic that affects so many people - about one in four pregnancies. I have written this in the hope of answering two questions:

  1. Why is it quite so upsetting?
  2. How do I support someone going through this?

I worked in a hospital at the time of my miscarriages. The obstetrician was fantastically supportive and kind, but many of my colleagues said the most appalling things to me; not from malice but from misjudgement. It was really confusing. It was hard enough to get my head around the fact that I had been a mother who had never held or kissed her child. To be subjected to pseudo-medical guesswork was just more than I could bear. After the first miscarriage I went into a form of shock. I was back at work on the Monday, apparently fine. By the Friday I was in pieces and I didn't really understand why. Now I do understand why but it took a while to work it out.



For those going though miscarriage one of the hardest things to deal with is other people's reactions. The problem, I believe, is created by a difference of perspective. For friends and family the miscarriage is a medical event - the pregnancy has stopped - but for the hopeful parents, what is lost is not the pregnancy but the baby in their arms. And it is this baby, fully imagined, fully cherished, that is lost. I have many friends who have also had this experience. Loved ones wanting to support but unsure of what to say, because of their perspective getting it horribly wrong; the very people who should be pouring love and support, just end up pouring more darkness.



So How Do You Be Their Dawn? - for the mothers and the partners.

  1. Understand that you are helping someone who is grieving (as well as dealing with chaotic hormones and probably having undergone a fairly grim, clinical procedure.)

  1. Don't assume that when someone says "I'm fine" that they are. Don't assume that the "I'm fine" from yesterday is still true today or even in a month's time.

  1. Don't keep going on about it. Don't get frustrated when they do.

  1. Do NOT say:
·     it was for the best (it wasn't - it really, really wasn't the best)
·     at least you have your other child (they are not consolation prizes)
·     well at least you know that you can get pregnant (this was not a dress rehearsal; this was the real thing.)

  1. If you notice anyone saying the above, have a word.

  1. DO say:
·      I'm so sorry.
·      How can I help?
·      This is really sad news.
·      I'm sorry that I don't know what to say.

  1. Hug them. Remember to hug the partner; they're grieving too.

  1. Help. If you can, turn up and do the washing up, hoovering, making tea for visitors. They'll be mortified that you did their washing up etc. but will also be relieved that it's done. You have to play this one really carefully so have empathy dials up to max.

  1. Turn up with food; my friend Sarah turned up with a casserole and jacket potatoes already cooked and still hot - I just needed to put them on the plate. I sobbed.

  1. If you are their manager, treat them as you would after any bereavement. Take particular care to remember point 1 and 2.

I had a very spiritual experience a while ago that helped me deal with my own miscarriages. I share that here in the hope that it brings some peace, clarity and hope.


One final point; if this is you then you are not alone. The miscarriage association have a fabulous website. Speak to your friends and family; there will be people close by who have been through exactly what you are going through. Lean on them. Say yes to help. Be difficult. Rage. Love. Grieve.





Friday, 30 December 2016

Holding On

Day 31 (Saturday 31st December 2016)


31st ever Summer Olympics officially opened in Maracana Stadium, Rio de Janeiro, 
Brazil, on August 5th 2016. We need fireworks on New Year's Eve! 
Another 31 that might appeal to many readers of this blog is a
 31% increase in base salaries for HR Managers in the UK during 2016 - 2nd highest salary 
increase (joint with Business Development Senior Managers) and topped by 
MarCom specialists and Corporate Bankers.

It is New Year's Eve. For those of you who are celebrating today, I wish you a wonderful end to 2016 and a great start to 2017. May the New Year prove a happy, healthy, enjoyable, memorable one, in which you achieve your goals, inspire others to do the same and find contentment. In my opinion, Tamasin Sutton has written a perfect post for New Year's Eve - reflective, candid and optimistic for the future. 

Although now a recognised as a "non fluffy" and highly effective HR professional, Tamasin commenced her career in retail, working for one of the UK's leading jewellery chains. In 2003 she changed path and commenced in HR - achieving a Masters in HRM at Bournemouth and establishing the HR function for a what was then a small insurance broking business, with two sites, in the south of England.  Since then she has worked in a number of sectors, usually establishing and managing teams, including housing, technology, business to consumer transportation and then as an independent consultant. Until recently, Tamasin was working and living in London (indeed she was my near neighbour in Brixton). As you will see from her post below, her life has changed again; she will have new challenges and opportunities to experience in the year to come. On the cusp of the year I am raising a glass of gin to Tamasin to wish her all success in 2017.

Tamasin is on Twitter (her handle is @TamasinS). She is an avid traveller (indeed she wrote and sent me her piece whilst on a trip in the USA just before Christmas).


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I've read the Advent blog series for the last few years and wanted to share, be as open and self effacing as others were. Push myself. I'm not one for being vulnerable in public and at many times in my life people have assumed they knew me, a different me from the person I really am. Someone critical, distant, perhaps even cold. Why is this relevant for my blog? Because it's been a tough year, and one where I have tried to show 'me' more than ever, sometimes successfully, other times I've missed the mark spectacularly.



This year has been filled with both personal as well as professional challenges. It's also had it's fair share of highs and at times, hollows. Deep dark hollows which have overwhelmed me and threatened to consume me whole. The gut wrenching ones where you just want to run and hide, cry, be with people you love and who love you back. Here's the problem sometimes.....it's really hard to be that vulnerable. I am so thankful for the people around me that I can be that vulnerable with, 



and I'm sorry to those who want to be there for me and I haven't let them in. It's the old cliché - it's not you, it's me....



Everyone has their challenges and so many people I love and care about have had so many ups and down this year - I'm not any different, except I feel that 2016 has been a defining year. A year which started with a long bedside vigil with my Nana, whom I had a sometimes difficult relationship with. She passed away in a great deal of pain, something that no person should ever have to endure. My loss was tempered by the elation of a new working relationship, supporting people in my profession to develop themselves. It was, and is, one of the best things to happen in my career. It has brought me joy, firing my passion for HR and doing great people stuff. It's given me opportunities in abundance to reflect and grow in my practice, all whilst battling the inherent self doubt in my capabilities. I've battled with exhaustion, with trying to help friends understand that it's not about them, the reason I can't meet up as much as I would like. I juggled with a more demanding (than I thought) contract to help transform a HR team. I was attracted by the challenge. I forgot to put me first and learn from previous experience. I've felt isolated, hollow, guilty for putting work first, knowing it was short lived, a light at the end of the tunnel.



This has been a year of change, one which is taking me well out of my comfort zone and out of London, back to the north. I'm excited, but equally sad to leave wonderful friends and a home I love. But what opportunity. What hope. As I have driven the vast distances in the US for the past few days I have reflected long and hard about my journey this year. About the highs, the hollows, the hope. One of the most difficult things in my life happened recently and as I drifted into a deep hollow, I drew on strength I didn't even know I had. It was the love and support from people I never expected. Their hearts were open and whilst the clock chimes, the Thames continues to flow, I stand still. 



But the love and support I have from those people give me hope for next year. Take a moment, at this time of year, to show people you appreciate them, and be kind to yourself. Find your joy and happiness. Mine is to be with the ones I love, embracing my never ending wander lust and being the best person I can be. I'll be holding on to hope and hearts.



Friday, 15 January 2016

With Thanks to the Coal Dust

Day 47 (Saturday 16th January 2016)
47 AD, the year in which Vardanes I of Parthia (which later became known as Persia and
is now parts of both Iran and Iraq) was assassinated by his brother, Gotarzes, whilst out hunting.
Vardanes was praised by Tacitus for being a young and highly gifted ruler. During his reign he reimposed Parthian
control over the city of Seleucia on the Tigris. His brother claimed the throne after Vardanes death, but Gotarzes II
was cruel and debauched, resulting in the Parthians rebelling and petitioning for aid from Rome to
depose him - this area of the world has a tradition of civil war and unrest over the past millennium.
Today's deeply personal and powerful post is anonymous. Once you read it you will understand why. It has been published today at the author's request, as today is her 40th birthday. I am sure you join me in wishing her a happier and easier year ahead.

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The Context
I am forty today.  It’s a moment of sorts.  I drafted this blog in 2015, hoping the advent series would run until 16th January so I could write about the threshold of turning forty.  I drafted this blog to contain words about having courage to overcome fears, drawing strength from the love and support of family and friends, and daring to achieve our dreams as we live our lives.  I took that approach because 16th January 2016, in some sort of indescribable twist, was also the day I could tell everyone I was pregnant for the first time.


Except I’m not pregnant anymore.  

My miscarriage started on Christmas Eve and it was in a Holby City Christmas that my love and I found out that “there is no heartbeat”.  The complications that ensued resulted in emergency surgery which meant, even in the depths of what was A. Nightmare. we were able to prioritise.  Our minds turned to my health above everything else.  

That paragraph has taken me two weeks.  

It has taken me two weeks to find courage to write about something that is awful and common.  Common, yes.  But not common to me.  Common, yes.  But hidden away in rooms with two-seater sofas, a high backed chair and pastel coloured leaflets. Common, yes.  But so difficult that we don’t speak about it. Common, yes.  But if I tell others about it does that mean I am weak, not smart anymore, not hire-able?  I chose to rewrite this blog because as it turns out, it is still about overcoming fears, drawing strength from the love of family and friends and achieving our dreams.  




The Theme
Comets.  For me it’s about light.  The light we leave as trace in our connections with others, whether we are aware of it or not. It is also the light we turn to when we need it. Perhaps spiritually or perhaps quite literally.  When I walk in nature with the sun on my face, my shoulders don’t just drop, I become aware of them in a different way.  I am light without what I had been carrying with me.  In its absence it becomes noticeable.  In that light, as I walk, I can see more clearly, examine more accurately and understand differently.

Comet McNought, 2007
Coal dust.  For me it’s my family and my lineage.  My family are coal miners. One granddad was out on strike, whilst the other worked in HR for the National Coal Board.  One a steady and smart man, packed to the brim with a sense of fairness and family values, and the other exactly the same.  I picture a dense grey sparkling matter, as vast as space, that I lean in to when I need it.  A substance that accommodates me and that provides resilience.  It is a rebooting space to go to.  My personal Etch-a-Sketch.


The Point
It is the strength I find, in my moments in the light and the dark, that is carrying me now as I get used to being two people for a while.  The one that says “Yes, it was lovely thank you, very restful.  No, we never do much for New Year.  How was yours?” and the one that is woken by sweaty panic every morning because the anaesthetic isn’t quite out of my system and I don’t know where I am or what time of day it is.  I just know to breathe and it will become clear.




Some of the Moments
The sun on my face the first day I was babysat by my brother.  I found him to be a bit more lenient than my folks and my other half, so I made my escape. With my laces trailing I shuffled down the driveway to lean against the fencepost.  I tilted up like a sunflower. I let the sun pour over my face and I let myself cry.


The darkness in the night where the fear is high.  It’s a place where I don’t know what will happen to me. Even though I know none of us really do know. It is where vulnerability courses through me.  The hand I reach for holds me and keeps me steady.

The smiles I get from scanning Facebook.  At its best, it is a gentle Elvish nurturer, connecting me to my loved ones around the world.  At it’s worst, it is a game of demonic roulette, as it can conjure up images that close up my throat and squeeze out my lungs.  Painful and critical reminders that life is going on.



How relaxed I feel in my body when I dream of a holiday.  My mind palace is a different place to that of Holmes', and I like to go there a lot at the moment.  I spend time in a place where I am well and free and where I can make plans for some devilish fun.  Those times will come.

The voices of the women in the recovery room.  Gentle lady after gentle lady emerged from the fog to hold my hand, to share their words of connection; “I have been where you are”, they said, one after the other.  “Fruit and vegetables, and plenty of sunshine.” And when I cried, the lady that leaned in and whispered slowly in my ear “Breathe, long, and deep”. She stayed close to my ear and breathed with me for a while.




Some sort of conclusion
We control very little.  We are in an industry where we long for authenticity, for showing up, for openness, humanness, purpose and mindfulness.  Yet there are times when we need to know we don’t have to show up at all.  Times when we need the world to hold us and contain parts of us that we can’t contain for ourselves. We need our protected places to go to in solitude and with loved ones where there is strength in the light and the dark.  We can put a little bit of ourselves here and a little and different part of ourselves there.  For now, I choose to show up in words.  I understand in a new way what it is to say; “this writer has chosen to remain anonymous to protect their identity”.   There is a part of me that needs protecting on my 40th birthday. That is my trace today.  With thanks to the coal dust.





Anon.