Being real

I was looking forward to my coaching session this morning to explore how I can be more myself in the workplace. I’m aware that so often I pitch myself as ‘happy Amy’, ‘helpful Amy’, ‘glass-half-full Amy’ when that’s not what is truly going on for me. And while I don’t want to leave myself unfiltered at work to berate the lack of sleep I have, how I feel frustrated by X, Y & Z or be unconsciously careless about what I do share, I’m questioning the lack of realness in the workplace and am feeling uncomfortable with how little I show up authentically in order to feel safe.

This thinking started since I’ve been running a training session for managers in the workplace. It’s the one thing at work that I’ve actively disliked doing, because I feel like I’m constantly questioning myself about whether I’m enough, what people think, how I can get people to like what we’re teaching. Being like this, whilst pretending that everything is ok, keeps me safe, but it’s arduous and I’m not myself as I teach it. I’m an overstretched, overwhelmed, overcompensating version of myself and as a result, for the two weeks that this course runs every month I am exhausted to my bones. It’s been a struggle because I’ve not let myself be truly myself.

It’s not just me going through this too. I think people don’t feel able to show up fully in the workplace. For example, I was really saddened by a colleague of mine saying she wouldn’t sing in the work choir because the group is going to do a Christmas carolling session at each of our work hubs and it wouldn’t be professional to do this around colleague who she might be taking through a disciplinary or performance management process as an HR professional. I understand the tension but surely she’s allowed to be herself whilst also having a serious role to play at work?

I found myself sense-checking a blog post I wrote for work in which I shared that I’ve struggled with eating disorders and suffer to this day with anxiety. It felt uncomfortable to share this on a public blog read by a number of my work colleagues because I associate any mental ill health in myself (and others , if I’m honest) as weakness. This perception of weakness makes it hard to feel comfortable being real at work and, in the same way, it also feels weak to be vulnerable at work; to show anything of myself which isn’t 100% positive or professional.

So what have I done in the past? I’ve shied away from being vulnerable and in doing so have sacrificed showing up as my true self. And while I didn’t talk with my coach about how I’m going to make changes to be more vulnerable at work, one thing came out for sure – I’m no longer comfortable living behind a mask.

It no longer feels right.

Staying safe at the cost of my authenticity and vulnerability feels too restrictive, almost like I’m in clothes that are too tight for me. I want to take them off…but I also know that I can’t strip myself of these clothes in one go. Change this deep doesn’t work like that.

Instead I’ll need to summon the courage (along with a bucketload of patience for myself) to take off these ‘clothes’ bit-by-bit, experience-by-experience. I’ll need to remove being seen as bulletproof, always right, constantly competent, unable to be bruised and step into conversations that talk more about people than processes, more about hearts than heads, more about feelings than facts. I’ll need to be enquiring; to question assumptions about how we’re unable to be our full selves at work.

I’ll also need to hold this desired way of being with humour and grace. Knowing that I’ll fall down more times that I’d like to admit. Knowing that there’s no fixed end point to this way of being – there’s just more experiences of sharing fully of myself.

I feel excited about the potential of bringing my full self, being vulnerable and authentic, to the workplace. And while I feel like I end more posts than I’d like with the words ‘I can’t wait to see where this takes me’¬†they are true. I can’t wait to see where things go from here!

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Reaching out

I spoke to my husband today and told him that, for the first time in a long time, I felt the urge to overeat. To comfort eat.

It’s not surprising since I’ve recently gone through the biggest change in my life, my world has been turned upside down, I’m managing not only the needs of my own but that of a new human who I don’t understand and have lots of people visiting, which brings other dynamics to juggle.

I’m not trying to be ungrateful for all of this, I’m just being honest – it all just feels a bit overwhelming at times.

And in this moment, I felt a weight press on me and the only thing I knew would remove the weight was to force it down with food. Lots of food.

And then I realised that food wasn’t the only thing that would remove the weight of pressure bearing down on me. I knew I could remove it by reaching out.

And so I reached out and I told my husband I was feeling suffocated and was struggling. I shared the feelings I was having.

And as if by magic, the feelings went away. I suddenly didn’t have the urge to push my feelings down because I allowed myself to feel them. I listened to what was going on for me.

Not only did this help me in the moment but, knowing what was going on, my husband then was able to help me. He sat me down, got me a drink, gave me a cuddle and left me alone for a few hours of peace and alone time as I fed Jenson.

If only I had known so many years ago how little it takes to make this feeling go away – just acknowledging what’s going on for me and reaching out to someone I trust.

This new life as a parent is so wonderfully beautiful and impossibly difficult and I have a feeling that I’ll need to keep on reaching out over and over again.

And so that’s exactly what I’ll keep on doing.

Accepting help

I wrote recently about how having Jenson, my son, is teaching me more about asking for help (and being ok relying on others) than I could have ever imagined. And I feel like this will be the lesson for me in 2018, being ok asking for help and also being ok with being specific about what help I need.

My lovely parents-in-law are here in Brighton visiting for a week – partly to spend time with Jenson, their first grandchild and to also give us some support and help as we transition into parenthood.

I’ve been surprised with how hard I’ve found it to even contemplate being specific about what they, particularly Kathryn, can do to help me.

Partly it’s because I feel awkward asking her to clean my bathroom or wash my bedsheets – things that I feel shouldn’t be up to other people to do (but things she has specifically said she’ll do if it would help us). But when I ask myself what else is underneath it, there are some specific things which are making me feel uncomfortable making the requests.

Rejection

Yes, I’m afraid of rejection. Afraid that I’ll ask for something and it will get slapped down or I’ll get laughed at for asking for what I need. It’s easier to just be a lone island, to be completely self-sufficient, than to risk having my requests (and by association, me) rejected by others.

Unworthiness

There is part of me that also doesn’t feel worthy of such practical displays of support and affection from other people. It makes me feel uncomfortable to need other people. I’m used to being ‘strong’, used to being the helper, and so this new reality is challenging who I am and what my use is in this world. It’s making me ask hard questions – am I worthy of people just doing things for me out of love where nothing is expected back?

Vulnerable

When people help me, I feel vulnerable. Like Katniss in the Hunger Games (apologies if you’re not a fan, I bloody love these books!) who has the need to repay every good deed done to her, I feel that every good deed done to me has a price which will one day need to be paid back. And not knowing the price that will need to be paid, the deed which will need to be done, I’d rather just cope alone. It makes me feel vulnerable.

But I want to trust that these acts of kindness can be just that – acts of kindness – with no price to pay back, no expectation from anyone else. And I want to feel able to show others my vulnerability.


So there are lots of things under the simple acceptance of help from other people – things I know I will need to unpack. But for now I feel that it’s simply ok to acknowledge them, to know they are there, and perhaps just by knowing this, I won’t be as enslaved by them.

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