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"

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.

 

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. 

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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"

Returning with a spring in my step

I have really missed writing this blog, but there are times in all of our lives when other priorities need to take precedence over our own pleasures – if we care about other people then we cannot put ourselves first. Since I last touched a keyboard my family has suffered death, illness and deep disappointment and my job has been the most demanding I can remember in what is a long career. 

I write this because I enjoy doing so; it is very satisfying finding out relevant information and verifying my facts. However, it is a personal indulgence and not a necessity. I have missed putting words on a page, and now that things feel a little calmer, I’m back.

Louis Warner Sculpture - Returning

It feels appropriate to base this piece on communication (as, to me, that is what a blog is all about – even if I am only talking to myself). 

Photograph by Saratola Ban

Today is International Dawn Chorus Day – a chance to listen and recognise one of Nature’s daily wonders. I am fortunate in that when I am in Somerset, with my mother and sister, I listen to the Dawn Chorus most days – the power and quantity of birdsong is much greater than you will hear during most of the rest of the day. (Today the Chorus in London was quite restrained, but there was excellent BBC coverage, with live coverage from India to Ireland, from midnight until nearly 6.00am earlier today.) 

wren singing on hawthorn

There are many theories as to why birds sing first thing in the morning – some say that it is due to “temperature inversion” – when a layer of cold air is trapped close to the ground by a warmer layer above.  The boundary between these layers acts like an acoustic mirror reflecting the sound, so that it travels further. In addition, dawn is a good time to communicate (as the light is less good for foraging, and a bird might as well do something useful once it is awake), perhaps most importantly, singing at daybreak enables a bird to signify to rivals and prospective mates that it has survived the night, is in robust health and able to put on a good show. More promiscuous birds, such as blue tits and reedbuntings, may opt for a bit on the side courtesy of a Dawn Chorus introduction (so the Chorus is an avian aural form of Tinder), while others, who are fiercely territorial (such as blackbirds and robins), use it as an opportunity to intimidate their adversaries. I suspect the message for many of us from the Dawn Chorus is the importance to take best advantage of the opportunities available and select times to communicate that will ensure maximum impact and optimum outcomes.

I have just finished reading The Sellout by Paul Beatty – my CEO gave it to me as gift, as it had made him laugh. It is an excellent read – a witty, no-holds-barred, satirical take on attitudes towards racism and society in the USA. There is one statement, made by the main character near the end of the book that has stuck with me:

“I think about my own silence. Silence can be either protest or consent, but most times it’s fear. I guess that’s why I’m so quiet and such a good whisperer, nigger and otherwise. It’s because I’m always afraid. Afraid of what I might say. What promises and threats I might make and have to keep.”

Given the prevalence of elections (France is voting for its new president today – either Macron or Le Pen will be a clear break with tradition, my guess is that Macron will win; the UK has an election in early June; and Germany goes to the polls in September), we should all be mindful of the promises politicians make and the likelihood of their being able to honour what they say. Similarly, we, the people, need to make our thoughts and hopes known. We must appreciate that the inclination towards remaining silent and not making a stand for what is important can have severe repercussions. Not turning out to vote is as damaging as voting for something because you don't believe that what you are voting for will actually happen, just to "make a statement". We need integrity and determination to see us through the challenging times ahead.

Earlier this year there was an atrocious terror attack on members of the public and a policeman on Westminster Bridge near the UK Houses of Parliament on 22^nd March. I am a governor of Guy’s and St. Thomas’ NHS Foundation Trust and we discussed the medical response to the attack at our recent Board and Governors’ meetings. Everyone was immensely proud of the way in which medical and other staff of the Trust responded - rushing to provide support (St. Thomas’ Hospital is located at the opposite end of the bridge to where the attack occurred). However, we were bemused by the decision to take casualties to various hospitals a significant distance from the disaster site when St Thomas’ was so near and had appropriate facilities – the decision as to where casualties should be taken was part of the wider London terrorist attack plans that had not previously been communicated to the Trust.  These plans, that ensure that there is a pre-determined response in the event of a terror attack or other incident, were devised by the Department of Health and NHS England – I appreciate the need for secrecy and tight security measures, but perhaps further consideration regarding the proximity of leading hospitals and medical facilities and the sharing plans with relevant parties would make things easier if there is ever such an awful event in the future.

Duke of Cambridge visiting St Thomas' Hospital in London
to thank staff who helped during the terror attack
Press Association photo

After the horrors of the terror attack in March, London felt different. On the 23^rd I went in to work as usual but the tube was surprisingly quiet at rush hour – many people chose to travel by bus, rather than using the tube, or stayed at home, perhaps after seeing the numbers of police guarding the entrances to Underground stations. The blog London Wakes, written in response to the occurrence by my friend David D’Souza, resonated with me. In this post he urges people to “build a bridge”. He is right, like Beatty’s comment in The Sellout, silence is often the product of fear and if we want a safer environment we need to speak, discuss and understand. Elaine Dang was a victim of the terrorist attack in Nairobi in 2013 when al-Shabaab opened fire in a shopping mall killing 67 people. After the event she remained traumatised long after her physical wounds had healed. She came to appreciate that the only way to dispel her fears was by enhancing her knowledge and awareness, in her case of Muslims and Islam. Since 2013 she has gone out of her way to learn and make connections and now she appreciates that the heinous actions of a few do not justify labelling a whole group as dangerous and she is no longer afraid; we all need to engage and gain understanding, especially with and from groups and people we don’t know well, if we are going to make the world a better, safer place. Hiding from the unknown, sharing in “group-think” (by only communicating with like-minded people who support our own world-view) exacerbates distrust and misunderstanding.

Photograph by Daisuke Takakura

In a much smaller way, after the Westminster terrorism event, I made this discovery for myself. That week I was trapped working late on the Friday and only escaped the office after most people had been out for hours, celebrating the end of a traumatic week. There was a very noisy crowd at the tube station when I got there – of particular note were a group of men, who had clearly been having a good time and were raucous. I kept my head down and tried to avoid catching their eyes (how very British of me). However, they got into the same tube compartment as I did and their loud banter continued. One of them deliberately sat down beside me and became insistent on starting a conversation. Not wishing to seem rude or wanting to attract further attention from the wider group, I responded, cautiously at first. It transpired that they worked for a subsidiary of a large German bank and that they had indeed been socialising for hours. A senior colleague was over from the States. He had been very kind, when one of them had been working in America, and they wished to return the hospitality. He had taken their colleague to a Blues bar so, having shown him a traditional British pub, they were heading off to see The Stranglers in concert at The Academy in Brixton.

Stranglers playing at Brixton Academy March 2017

I asked what the man I was talking to usually did in his spare time and he told me he wrote. It transpired that he used to work night shifts, which impacted on his ability to spend time with his daughter. He used to read her a story before he left for work but after a while she said she wanted him to tell her something different. He asked her what she wanted to hear about and she gave him some ideas and named some familiar objects – this was the start of his making up stories for her. Each night he would tell her the tale he had crafted during the previous night’s security shift, before being given the subject matters for the story for the following day. He has five year’s worth of tales crafted with love and his story made me see him as a sensitive and caring man, rather than the intimidating person he had seemed to me when he got on the train and forced me to speak. I walked home with a grin and a spring in my step. The world is a surprisingly good place – and made even better when we communicate.