Reclaiming wellbeing – from ‘nice to haves’ and magic wands to essential tools for surviving and thriving

In recent years, the concept of wellbeing has become ubiquitous and yet undervalued. For professionals and leaders in socially conscious organisations, the stakes are especially high. As financial pressures mount and crises become more frequent, funders and decision makers are increasingly cutting wellbeing related programmes, viewing them as expendable luxuries rather than essential investments. This trend is potentially damaging to organisations and communities, especially at a time when living and working conditions, and over-exposure to distressing information, are adversely affecting so many of us.

The false economy of cutting wellbeing

When budgets tighten, wellbeing initiatives are often the first to go. The rationale is straightforward enough - in times of crisis, only the “essentials” survive. But what if we’ve misunderstood what is truly essential? Workforce wellbeing is not a peripheral concern – done well, it is foundational and preventative. Contributing to positive wellbeing is the bedrock upon which sustainable, effective, and compassionate organisations are built.

Neglecting or cutting corners with wellbeing is a false economy. The costs of burnout, absenteeism, turnover, and diminished performance far outweigh the investment required to support staff meaningfully. In sectors where professionals routinely support people through distressing or traumatic experiences (often while being underpaid and overworked), the risks of neglect are even greater. In this case, wellbeing isn’t a “nice to have” – it’s a matter of survival. I’ve seen too many examples of organisations in crisis because of a lack of effective support for their teams. This often comes as a shock when fed back by disillusioned staff at exit interviews, because the people at the top are working hard to protect and support their workforce, but they may have failed to join the dots between working conditions, structural issues in the organisation, meaningful opportunities for people to be heard, and workplace wellbeing.

Beyond sticking plasters: the limits of superficial solutions

Too often, wellbeing programmes are reduced to a handful of token gestures: morning meditation sessions, discounted gym memberships, or access to mindfulness apps. While these can be helpful, they are not solutions to complex, systemic issues. Our wellbeing cannot be separated from our living and working conditions, and the impact of events in the wider world. What each of us needs to thrive will be different, and meaningful support requires careful thought, genuine investment, and a willingness to address root causes. It’s understandable that capacity for all of this may be limited in times of crisis, but it may be a case of allocating time and resources now to prevent disaster further down the line.

A “sticking plaster” approach risks trivialising wellbeing, offering temporary relief without addressing underlying problems. It’s not enough to encourage self-care in isolation; we must also create environments where people are safe, valued, and empowered. There is a shift in many sectors and communities from a focus on self-care to self and collective care. This, too, needs to be backed up with investment and resources.

Reclaiming the language of wellbeing

Part of the challenge lies in the language we use. “Wellbeing” has become associated with the sprawling, unregulated “wellness” industry—heavily filtered influencer videos, expensive retreats, and miracle solutions promised by social media ads. For many, the term now evokes images of hyper-individualist self-improvement, rather than a more nuanced, systemic approach.

Perhaps it’s time to reclaim the concept of wellbeing, or even to find new language that better reflects its true meaning. Wellbeing should not be about chasing perfection or subscribing to the latest trend. It should be about placing humans in all their complex, imperfect glory at the centre of our organisations, communities, and societies. It should evoke a vision of shared effort, learning, and mutual support - tools that are essential for surviving and thriving, not “fluffy” extras.

Wellbeing as a community effort

A meaningful approach to wellbeing recognises that no single solution fits all. There is room in the world for whatever form of support works for each of us - no one approach is inherently better than another. But when late-stage capitalism co-opts the concept of health and wellbeing, we are bombarded with an overwhelming array of simple, siloed solutions to complex, structural problems. This might lead some of us to feel dismissive of the whole field, undermining genuine efforts to support people.

Instead, we need to foster a culture of shared responsibility for wellbeing, which means investing in environments where people can learn from one another, share tools and strategies, and build resilience together. This might involve a slow burn and a non-linear process, which is perhaps a less exciting prospect for those who want to see the results of their investment as soon and as clearly as possible. But the likelihood of this leading to real, sustainable change seems to me to be worth it.

The risks of deprioritising wellbeing

When those holding the purse strings deprioritise wellbeing, the consequences can be far-reaching. Staff morale declines, turnover increases, and the quality of support offered to those in need suffers. In the long term, organisations risk losing their most dedicated and compassionate people—those who are drawn to socially conscious work precisely because they care deeply.

Moreover, the ripple effects extend beyond the workforce. When professionals are supported to thrive, they are better equipped to help others do the same. In sectors where the work is emotionally demanding, this is essential.

Investing in meaningful wellbeing

Meaningful investment in wellbeing starts with listening. Leaders actively listening to their teams to understand their needs, challenges, and aspirations. A commitment to addressing structural issues such as workload, pay, job security, and organisational culture, rather than relying solely on individual interventions.

It also means recognising the diversity of needs within any workforce. Some may benefit from flexible working arrangements, others from peer support networks, and others from opportunities for professional development. The key is to offer a range of options, grounded in empathy and respect. The best approaches to this I’ve seen and experienced involved trusting individuals to know what will work best for them and to find ways to accommodate them where possible (or support them to work out what will help if they’re not sure).

A call to action

For decision makers with responsibility for workplace and community wellbeing, there is a strong, evidence based case to be made: effective wellbeing support is not a luxury, a magic wand, or a a sticking plaster. It is a set of essential tools for surviving and thriving, both individually and collectively. By reclaiming the concept from the clutches of the wellness industry and investing in meaningful, systemic support, we can build organisations that are resilient, compassionate, and successful.

The benefits of doing so are clear, and so are the risks of failing to act. In times of crisis and scarcity, it is more important than ever to prioritise the wellbeing of those who do the vital work of supporting others.

5 Reasons to go on a Burnout Prevention Retreat

If you're anything like many of my clients, you're probably really invested in personal development and wellbeing, but a bit fed up with wading through busy online spaces full of quick fixes and wonder cures. You might be feeling the weight of supporting others while struggling to maintain your own work-life balance, or noticing the early signs of burnout creeping in.

1. Deep Reflection Beats Quick Fixes

Let's be honest - there are no magic bullets when it comes to preventing burnout or reconnecting with your sense of purpose. What I've found has a much bigger impact is taking dedicated time out to do some in-depth personal work. Unlike trying to squeeze reflection and recovery into the gaps between meetings, a retreat offers the rare gift of uninterrupted time to tune into what you truly need at this stage of your life and career.

2. A Whole Person Approach to Burnout

While there are many valuable ways to address burnout - from counselling to medical support - most tend to treat specific issues in isolation. I approach burnout from a whole person perspective, recognising the connections between our emotions, thoughts, body sensations and behaviours. This retreat offers not just respite, but practical tools for recognizing early warning signs and establishing sustainable practices that work for you.

3. Embodied Learning That Actually Makes Sense

If you're new to embodied approaches or skeptical about some of the more magical claims sometimes made in the wellness world, you're not alone. I won't offer you unrealistic promises or pseudoscientific jargon. Instead, you'll learn practical, evidence-based techniques for tuning into your body's signals and re-regulating your nervous system. These tools can help you navigate challenging situations with more confidence and authenticity.

4. Small Group, Big Impact

Working in a small, carefully curated group creates something special. It's not about doing deep work in a large room full of strangers, but about building real connection and trust. Maybe you're used to being the supporter, the fixer, the one who holds space for others. Here's an opportunity to receive support yourself, benefit from outside perspectives, and remember that you don't have to figure everything out alone.

5. A Different Kind of Reset

Sometimes, making decisions from a place of exhaustion leads us to focus more on getting away from problems than moving towards what we need. This retreat offers something different - a chance to step back, breathe, and reconnect with your most up-to-date, wise Adult self in a beautiful, nurturing setting.

Is This Right for You?

I’m offering a burnout prevention retreat, specifically designed for people who:

• Work in supporting roles (e.g. third sector leaders, coaches, facilitators, frontline support workers)

• Value personal development but may be new to embodied approaches

• May be feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, or disconnected from their sense of purpose

• Want practical tools for preventing burnout and maintaining healthy boundaries

• Need time and space to reflect and re-evaluate who they are and what they need now

I know it's a big step to take time away from your responsibilities to focus on your own wellbeing. But here's the thing - investing in your resilience isn't just about self-care. It's about ensuring you can continue to show up effectively for others and maintain the impact you want to have in your work and life.

Remember: taking time out isn't a luxury - it's essential for sustainable performance and wellbeing. Sometimes the most powerful step we can take is creating space to receive support in a setting designed for deep, transformative work.

Secure your space today - click here to book or contact me to find out more.

Performance Anxiety Part 2: Supporting candidates to shine in recruitment and audition

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own and my clients’ experiences of performing for the purposes of being assessed – job interviews, auditions and the like – and what can make the difference between a successful, positive experience and a negative one that might lead to shame, fear and a knock to self-esteem. I’ve experienced and heard about interview and audition situations that range from the joyful to the downright traumatic. This has made me a passionate advocate for an approach that pays attention to psychological safety as a means of getting the best from the candidate. Below, I offer some tips and reflection points to support leaders involved in recruitment, audition and assessment of candidates to create a safe and welcoming enough environment to help the hopefuls to shine.

It feels important to note that a positive experience (whether or not the person gets the job, passes the exam or bags their dream role) is created both by the individual being assessed and those tasked with judging their performance. And there may be an element of assessing ability to perform under pressure involved in many cases, but I’d argue that being judged by people who have the power to change their life represents a sufficiently pressurised situation, no matter what the context. We don’t need to engineer additional stress on top of what may already be a nerve-wracking experience.

So, what do I mean by ‘psychological safety’? This is about creating conditions that allow people to feel welcome, valued and able to express themselves authentically. When people feel safe and grounded, they can access the skills, qualities and brain functions that allow them to give their very best performance. It’s true that we can’t create or guarantee a sense of safety in someone else, regardless of what we put in place – some of that work rests with the individual. But we all have a different baseline and set of experiences that influence how we feel and function, both in general and in specific situations. We all consciously and unconsciously bring baggage wherever we go. In our bags, we may be carrying messages and judgements that influenced us as children, previous experiences that influence our thoughts, communication and the way we use our bodies. Some people may have worked hard at unpacking their luggage and discarding any reactions and coping mechanisms that are outdated and unhelpful, only to find that they have sneaked back into their bags when a stressful situation presents itself. If a candidate has had negative experiences of being seen, heard and judged or assessed in the past, they may find that they need to do a lot of work to calm and ground themselves enough to be able to give their best performance (tips on reducing performance anxiety in part 1 of this series here). So, what can you put in place as a recruiter/assessor to help candidates show you what they can really do?

-Be warm and welcoming:

 An authentic attempt to connect and show someone that they are welcome and valued can make a real difference to their experience. We are wired to seek out signs of whether we belong in an environment because it has historically been crucial to our survival. Most of us are well attuned to signs that someone is impatient, bored or disengaged. This may be something to consider at the point where interviews, auditions etc. are being scheduled, as an over-stretched, exhausted or rushed recruiter may well have a negative impact. Additionally, gentle eye contact can often support an overwhelmed person to ground and re-regulate (I acknowledge that in some cases, direct eye contact can increase stress - e.g. for some Autistic candidates. It’s best to be responsive to individual reactions and follow their lead).

-Manage expectations:

As far as possible, let candidates know in advance what to expect and offering any information you can give about the format, timings, space and anything else that might help them to prepare. This stage also offers an opportunity to find out if any reasonable adjustments are required if you haven’t already. Predictability can help to set up a sense of safety, and can be offered while still requiring the person to think on their feet, if necessary. And be honest about what the person can expect following their experience – if you know that it’s likely to take a long time to make a decision, or if you truly lack the capacity to offer feedback to unsuccessful candidates, let them know in advance.

-Interrogate your unconscious bias:

I can think of a number of situations where an assessor’s bias has been made very apparent by specific questions, expressions of surprise or rejections based on incorrect assumptions or judgements. I would argue that we all need to develop a practice of interrogating our assumptions about a person based on, for example, their perceived age, gender expression, neurotype/disability, ethnicity, accent or perceived socioeconomic background. This is especially true in recruitment. Having been on both sides of the recruitment process, I’ve found that sometimes we can’t quite pin down the reason when someone is ‘good on paper’ but not quite right. Maybe the chemistry is wrong, maybe it’s not the best ‘culture fit’, maybe we had a specific vision in our mind’s eye that’s difficult to let go. That might be entirely valid - often, our instincts are worth listening to. But being in a position of power means there’s an added responsibility to check out and unpack any assumptions that may be underneath the feeling. I believe that expanding our vision around how a person in a specific role could look, sound and behave has benefits on a level wider than the person, role and organisation. Being able to honestly evaluate what we might have assumed about a person, and on what basis, can help us make more informed, fair decisions. And, speaking as a person who can tick a few ‘protected characteristic’ boxes on the equalities monitoring form, I can tell you that when these biases are front and centre in a recruitment process, we can often tell.

-Provide a safe container:

You may or may not have much control over the physical environment in which you carry out interviews, auditions etc. Ideally, the space would be comfortable, an appropriate size (big enough to maintain a sense of personal space but not unnecessarily large) and set out in a way that suggests welcome, warmth and calm. As a minimum, I’d suggest a psychologically safe-enough space needs to be quiet, free from interruptions and tidy. If there are a number of factors that are not in your control, consider what you can do to mitigate. Can you section off part of a large space to offer a sense of containment? Can you do anything to influence the level of background noise coming from adjacent spaces? If not, it can be even more important to cultivate a sense of safety through your interactions with the candidate and, if something in the space is unavoidably presenting an obvious distraction or barrier, to acknowledge this and perhaps discuss potential ways of minimising the impact. It’s impossible to anticipate the different needs of every person who enters your space, but thinking ahead about how people with accessibility needs or sensory sensitivities might experience it is a useful place to start.

-Be patient:

Experienced assessors are often skilled in putting nervous candidates at ease by being patient, recognising when they have stumbled that they may need a moment to regroup and try again, and even at times offering words of encouragement or reminders to take a breath. Even the most talented and capable people can come unstuck under pressure in a way that may not reflect their ability to perform in the role. Helping someone who is experiencing a ‘freeze’ response to re-regulate doesn’t demonstrate preferential treatment – it’s an acknowledgement that ‘singing for their supper’ (whether literally or figuratively) can be overwhelming sometimes. Demonstrating that you haven’t written someone off when their Autonomic Nervous System has gone into hyper- or hypo-arousal can often help them to regain control and deliver a fantastic performance.

-Let go of survivor’s bias:

In some professions and performing arts contexts, an element of acceptance of unnecessary stress or even ritual humiliation can persist because ‘we all had to go through it’ and it’s ‘character building’. I can think of some particularly egregious examples of this from high stress environments with pronounced hierarchies and heavy emphasis on tradition. I hope that this is a mindset that’s on its way out as we develop a common awareness of the need to support our people’s wellbeing (both because we value them as people and because healthy people perform better). It may be the case that the threshold for what constitutes a humiliating, shaming or unnecessarily exposing situation varies from person to person. But it’s worth considering what purpose a particular aspect of an assessment serves and whether it’s the best way of achieving that aim. Are you planning consciously, or falling into the trap of doing things in a specific way because that’s ‘just how things have always been done’? Do candidates really need to be auditioned and given feedback in front of the entire pool of hopefuls? Is your recruitment process putting extra pressure on those with caring responsibilities, health needs or long hours in their current role by requiring them to carry out unpaid work that will take several hours? Does anyone on your interview panel regard a candidate’s questions about reasonable adjustments, working culture or hours/boundaries as a sign that they are likely to be ‘difficult’ to work with?

Perhaps these ideas seem like basic examples of good practice. Or maybe as you read this, you notice a sense of irritation about the increasing demands made by early career professionals. Maybe there’s a sense of regret that some of these courtesies weren’t extended to you when you were starting out in your career. It might be useful to take a moment to reflect on what has been provoked or inspired in you as you read this. And I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject – you can contact me here.

My new embodiment teacher - Covid-19

After eighteen months of following guidelines and agonising over what was safe, within my ethical framework and worth/not worth risking, I finally enjoyed playing my first post-lockdown gig at a festival recently. And unfortunately, in spite of various risk reducing measures, I tested positive for Covid-19 soon after. It’s not been much fun, but could have been far worse – no doubt, thanks to two rounds of vaccination. The thing that was most discombobulating was the loss of my sense of smell or ‘anosmia’. This has really got me thinking about the embodied approach I now instinctively bring to my work, my emotional wellbeing and life in general.

If you’ve read my posts online, attended workshops or heard me talk about my work, you’ll no doubt have heard or seen me mention grounding techniques and ways to connect with our bodies as a means to de-stress, feel more present and fend off things like panic attacks and responses to trauma such as dissociation (feeling detached from our bodies and disconnected from ‘here and now’ reality). I, and others working in this field, often encourage connecting with our environments and connecting with our own bodies as ways of getting grounded and present. This tends to rely on using our ‘five senses’ – sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. Talking about our five senses seems to imply that we all possess a full complement of fully or partially functional sensory input and processing mechanisms – something which clearly is not the case for everyone. Although it hasn’t had an especially disabling impact on my life to be temporarily disconnected from one of my senses, it has reminded me that using sensory stimulation for grounding isn’t a ‘one size fits all’. Firstly, because not everyone has the same sensory capacity, and secondly, because we all connect with and feel soothed by our senses differently. Being neurodivergent, I have a lot of lived experience of sensory overstimulation, and sometimes what I need is less input, not more. But, like most people, I’m more tuned into some of my senses than others – these are the ones that can either serve as a fast-track to feeling calm and a quick way of connecting me with emotions and memories, or can cause overwhelm if the input is too much or particularly unpleasant. For me, these are hearing and smell – both of these are very important to me and very sensitive. This is why it was so bizarre spending two weeks sniffing at things that normally help to wake me up, relax me or make me feel excited about the food I’m about to eat, and getting nothing. I embarked on what seemed to be a pretty successful regime of smell training in an attempt to stimulate whatever olfactory nerves or mechanisms had fallen into an infection-related snooze. If nothing else, it was a helpful reminder after an oddly disembodied era of Zoom calls and remote connections, that I live in, and experience life through a body. And that bodies can be fragile, sensitive, wise, resilient and the recipients of so much mistreatment, whether intentional or otherwise.

I recently came across an article that vociferously argued against the traditional Cartesian theory of mind-body dualism and suggested we abolish the concept of ‘mind’ as separate from body altogether. It’s – ironically – a bit of a mind bender, but the more embodied work I do, the less I tend to think in terms of a separation between the mental and physical when I consider my own or others’ inner worlds. I look out for how thoughts, ideas and interactions and their resulting emotional responses are experienced in the body, and how physical experiences in turn might be shaping our psychology. There are specific physical signs that I’m pretty tuned into these days, and that serve to give me information perhaps even before my conscious mind has caught up. The one I tend to offer as an example most often is a vibrating or trembling at the back of my neck that kicks in when I feel vulnerable, exposed or threatened. Often, the threat is pretty benign – perhaps I’ve offered a gentle challenge to a client or received one from someone supporting me, and a small part of me is anxious about potential conflict. But sometimes, it’s an early alert that something isn’t right, and when I feel it, I know I need to respond. Alternatively, I can use an awareness of my physical responses to keep an eye on my list of resources that support my wellbeing, adding or deleting things according to how well they’re working for me… I’ll realise that certain practices, songs, smells, places, pictures or objects need to go on the list if interacting with them produces an instant release of shoulder tension, softening of the diaphragm, excited skin tingling or general feeling of ‘expansiveness’.

I’m excited to see the rise and rise of therapy, coaching, writing, retreats and training programmes using embodied or somatic approaches. It feels incredibly timely, and as if it might herald a much-needed sea change away from compartmentalising and intellectualising and towards a whole-person view of how we move through the world and interact with each other. In an age of rapidly developing technology, with seemingly endless opportunities to connect and express ourselves from ‘behind a screen’, it can be easy to forget that we are more than just our brains. Perhaps eighteen months of stark reminders that we are physical beings might offer an opportunity to bring about some balance in this area – here’s to more permission to rest when we need to, to tuning into what our body sensations might be trying to tell us, to remembering that we have the potential to be both vulnerable and resilient, and to offering our bodies some compassion. It might sound like a weird concept, but why not take some time to consider what your body wants to tell you, and what you might need to say to it? My message to mine right now is “thanks for keeping me alive through all of this, and for being strong enough to fight off a dangerous virus. I’ve been reminded of how grateful I am for the senses that I’m able to use to interact with the world and alter my state of mind. The simple joy of smelling the first coffee of the day, the garden after rain or a fragrant bath is one of those amazing “little” things that I’ll try not to take for granted any more”.

How we care for ourselves is political

The concept of self-care may bring to mind images of inspirational quotes typed in a flowing font, aimed at over-stretched, harassed working mums who desperately need and deserve to ‘take some me time’ and wash their troubles away in a fragrant bubble bath, chased by either a superfood smoothie or a ‘cheeky’ glass of wine. If I sound a little cynical here, I’ll admit that I am a little, and I’ll outline why. Rest assured, I am a lover of baths, smoothies, wine, relaxation and relief from the often-gendered work of caring for others. It is absolutely not my intention to shame those who practice specific ways of looking after themselves or the professionals who support them. I do want to unpack notions of self-care, emotional literacy and wellness, because I believe it’s in all of our interests to examine the industry built around them, the practices and products we’re sold and the voices that are centred or silenced. As Skunk Anansie proclaimed in the nineties (to the delight of my teenage self), “Yes, it’s f*cking political, everything’s political!”  

“Who is self-care for?” 

As mentioned, the most obvious and prolific presentation of self-care content often tends to invoke either soft, fluffy or expansive, spiritual imagery. Often, this is coded or read as “feminine”. I’ve spoken to numerous people who note that men, boys and masculine-identified folks can feel excluded from the message that looking after their bodies (exercise and protein shakes notwithstanding) and their emotional health is important. This can further exacerbate toxic masculinity stereotypes that are so harmful to boys and men, who so often come to harm as a result of pressure to keep their feelings to themselves. We are starting to see change, as a new generation of young people are taught that their emotions are valid, but the work of chipping away at the small stuff (which makes up the big stuff) continues. Here’s to more gender-neutral content AND permission for us all to like what we like, be it “fluffy” or otherwise. 

What else comes to mind when we think of typical self-care? Next on my list is money. In a world where there’s money to be made from everything, good health may be sold to the highest bidder (and I say this as someone who charges for my wellbeing related services, though always with an eye on balancing the value of my work with my ethics). People who are financially struggling tend not to have much disposable income for wellness products and programmes, or time to themselves. So, what could self-care look like for those who don’t fit the financial mould? Well, the big picture is tackling poverty at its root cause. But back here ‘on the ground’, it can be about promotion and permission of solid boundaries to avoid burnout, quick and cheap wins (grounding techniques you can use on the bus, while boiling the kettle or walking the dog) and more subsidised places in therapy.  

Who else do we picture when we think about self-care? Typically in the west, we may think of yoga classes run and attended by flexible white women, or mostly white, middle aged “spiritual seekers” attending packed conferences run by charismatic, inspirational leaders claiming to have all the answers. Clearly, these are sweeping generalisations, but the world of marketing is built on “ideal client” profiles that spell out the age, ethnicity, occupation and income of the people on the receiving end of advertising.  

“We need to talk about cultural appropriation”  

Deep breath – it’s a sticky subject, but all the more reason to lift the lid on it. The concept of taking aspects of a marginalised culture out of their original context and consuming or recreating them for fun, profit or wellbeing is not a new one. It’s not my story to tell as a white person, nor my right to define where the line between cultural appreciation and appropriation is (if indeed there is a neat line, which I suspect there isn’t). Let me be clear - I’m absolutely not saying it’s wrong to practice yoga if we’re not of Indian origin, or to learn meditation practices from ancient traditions other than our own. But I believe that it’s crucial to listen to the people with a claim to stake in specific practices, whose voices and incomes have so often been swept to the side in favour of a booming industry selling sacred symbols, medicines and practices to those of us who can see their value but know little of their history. Practising in awareness is and self-reflection is key (and for me, that goes hand in hand with self-care). So, I’m advocating for all of us who use or practice other cultures’ traditions to do our homework first (resource list below). 

“Spiritual bypassing and toxic positivity” 

If you’ve been going through a painful experience and sought solace in a community or content that suggests that all your troubles would be cured if only you had a positive attitude, the right diet or enough meditation, you may well know how dismissive and lonely an experience it can be. Humans often need to feel in control of our own destinies. Staring down the prospect of bad experiences and, ultimately, death, regardless of our best efforts can be a very scary experience. So, at times, we’d rather believe that if we smile more, take our supplements and attempt to avoid all known carcinogens, we’ll be just fine. I know that not all wellbeing and spiritual practitioners take this to its logical extreme (i.e. “all your suffering is your own fault”) - in general, we’re all just doing our best to survive and thrive. And there is a grain of truth in many of the encouragements to practice “mind over matter” or to foster a sense of perspective. But where reflection and the development of emotional regulation start to morph into “good vibes only” and “you just need to practice more gratitude”, we’re in the realm of toxic positivity and spiritual bypassing. Building a practice of noticing and honouring our physical and emotional cues in order to take better care of ourselves cannot and must not exclude uncomfortable emotions. Much like the aforementioned pressure on boys and men to suppress vulnerability, the discounting and banning of less socially acceptable feelings from any environment can be deadly. Our work here is to learn how to recognise, regulate and process. Sometimes emotional work is quite the opposite of sunshine and joy, and that’s ok. I will add an important caveat here, however – in a safe enough space for doing personal work, all emotions are welcome, but they are not forced out. We don’t get prizes for having the biggest breakthrough or the most dramatic catharsis. I’ve seen (and experienced) some truly transformative moments that have been loud, ugly and even a little scary… and I’ve seen people re-traumatised by well-meaning practitioners who lacked an awareness of how to spot signs that the Autonomic Nervous System is in overdrive and needs to be calmed, not pushed over the edge in order to get a gratifying “big finish” to a session. So, my suggestion here is to notice and work against internalising messages that imply that your feelings are unacceptable, and to check out the credentials of any practitioners you work with to ensure they have an understanding of trauma and psychological safety. 

“Emotional literacy as a radical act, and how it can protect us” 

Getting to know ourselves to the point of fine detail is a political and protective act in a number of ways. Let me give you an example… I remember learning what it means when the base of my skull sort of vibrates – for me, it’s an early warning sign that my nervous system has perceived a threat. It happens most in specific situations when I feel a conflict or a rejection may be imminent, but occasionally, I feel this sensation in a situation where the danger is more significant. This reaction takes place before my conscious mind has had a chance to catch up, so it’s a good barometer that says “hold on, let’s take stock – is this situation dangerous?” That knowledge has been really useful ever since. Another example – recently, I did some work with a group of young musicians who work in a genre I’ve never really connected with. When we first worked together, my initial response to the style of the music felt odd to me – a slight tensing of the muscles; perhaps out of defensiveness, or even disgust. I liked the young men and appreciated their art and their talent, so why was my body reacting like this? Thinking about it, I realised I’ve always considered this genre and the culture it comes from to be homophobic, and as a queer person, that makes me wary. While I stand by my condemnation of bigotry in any cultural context, I was surprised at myself. So many cultures and traditions have (I believe) been tainted by ultra conservative attitudes towards gender and sexual orientation, but I’m not sure I’d have been so quick to completely write them off, especially since these cultural contexts often necessitate and are home to incredible activists leading the struggle for change. It was my physical reaction and desire to interrogate its meaning that alerted me to the need to unpack and challenge my over-generalised assumptions. These signs and signals of something needing attention can also be crucial in protecting us from abuse and others’ narcissism. This is not to say that it’s incumbent on us as potential victims/survivors to stop it from happening, but I’m pretty sure we could all benefit from seeing the signs and connecting with our internal warnings.  

“And speaking of narcissists…”  

Listening to this slightly sensationalist account of a charismatic personal development “guru” whose extreme retreat courses saw several participants die on his watch, I thought about how two areas I have a special interest in are often rife with narcissistic process – namely, the performance and wellness industries. People in states of vulnerability who are seeking connection, escape, expression or fulfilment can offer rich pickings to a person intent on gaining power, wealth or notoriety at any expense. I think back to ‘artistically tempered’ artistic directors I encountered as a budding musician, and to coming across charismatic leaders of successful wellbeing companies and movements whose followers hung on their every word, even (or especially) when they were making impossible claims. While it’s true that a certain amount of passion, artistic flair and charm can be an asset to those who wish to share their craft and the tools that have worked for them, there is a line between this and more problematic narcissism that is often crossed in the pursuit of guru-like status. In Transactional Analysis terms, this state of mind says ‘I’m OK, you’re not OK’. I have the answers and you must listen to them without question. I lead and you follow. My pursuit of happiness is more important than yours, and you are a step on my ladder to the top. It is precisely the emotional literacy, curiosity and honouring of warning signs that can help to guard against being misled or mistreated by those who are in this position. And in an industry that people often seek out during their most vulnerable moments, we must demand ethics and regulation. It is the responsibility of those making claims to have life-changing products and resources to back them up with some kind of evidence and reference. If it sounds too good to be true, it may well be. I’m a big believer in seeking out practitioners who appear secure in their skills and knowledge base, yet are happy to acknowledge their humanity, their vulnerability and their capacity to get it wrong, learn and grow. I encourage us all to look for these qualities.  

Now, go out there and take radical, political and compassionate care of yourself!  

If you are worried about any of the issues mentioned in this post, please see the resource list below for (UK based) support & advice lines, or contact me. 

Resource List: 

The Guilty Feminist podcast episode 216, ‘Wellness’: https://guiltyfeminist.com/episode/?episode=271 

‘Guru’ podcast (Wondery): https://wondery.com/shows/guru/ 

Unblocking White Supremacy and Fragility in the Wellness Industry - Maryam Ajayi: https://medium.com/@maryam.ajayi/https-medium-com-maryam-ajayi-unblocking-white-supremacy-and-fragility-in-the-wellness-industry-b7f312e33179 

Cultural appropriation in the wellness industry – Lilidonia Lawrence: https://byp-network.com/news/267021 

What is Spiritual Bypassing? Avoiding life and other dangerous games: https://www.insightstate.com/spirituality/spiritual-bypassing/ 

What is Toxic Positivity? Why It's OK not to be OK right now – Brittany Wong: https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/what-is-toxic-positivity-coronavirus_l_5f04bca0c5b67a80bbff7cd3?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly9jb25zZW50LnlhaG9vLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAIr5dlvYWdYLD45MxFwivtZKH5CAp9XePI0eecea-VCN8rXPqd6EWIKhAggZL04kxcPiz1hwlNRwMNtoujc1FBUT_8A_S-mMtny04gH9dWL5GnnwXcs8vMigJEyOKMJRzaCkLS9U-4Wq93CP7nCVEGLXlyO4O57n02Drpo8GjprF 

Narcissism: How to Find Strength to Survive and Prosper After Narcissistic Abuse. Disarm the Narcissist, Take Control of Your Life and Learn How to Recover from a Toxic Relationship – Dr Keith Sam (Audiobook): https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Narcissism-Audiobook/B086CBLJMK?msclkid=9431245897b119dc18ea7b17cd1e9eff&source_code=M2M30DFT1Bk12807021801O6 

How to improve emotional intelligence: 10 tips for increasing self-awareness – Six Seconds: https://www.6seconds.org/2018/02/27/emotional-intelligence-tips-awareness/ 

Useful contacts from Mind, the mental health charity: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/useful-contacts/ 

Transactional Analysis online course – I'm OK, you’re OK: how to develop your attitude: https://ta-course.com/im-ok-youre-ok/ 

The Psychology of Voice

Or ‘The Courage to be Heard and Understood’.

When I talk about ‘the psychology of voice’, people may hope or expect to learn tactics for being heard, understood and ‘taken seriously’, based on studies that show which pitch, accent, body language or tone audiences best respond to. I believe there may be value in taking time to consider how we may be coming across when we communicate, but I do not offer tips and tools that promise to endow you with an air of authority, confidence or persuasiveness. My passion lies in wholehearted, authentic communication. I’m a Performance Psychology practitioner – I specialise in voice and communication, trauma recovery, relationship and a body psychology approach to wellbeing. 

When I think of ‘voice’, I think about being heard, speaking out against things we find unacceptable, advocating for ourselves or others, performing or presenting in front of an audience, and vocal technique (be it for speaking or singing). Things that can get in the way of any and all of these include the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, the messages we received from our parents or caregivers, how we are feeling physically and how safe we feel in the environment in which we are attempting to be heard. It’s impossible to truly separate the mental, emotional and physical aspects of voice. This is one of the reasons I’m so fascinated by it. The voice is the interface between the internal and external worlds*. A thought is an internal process, but when we decide to speak that thought, express that emotion, it exists outside of our body. Can you think of a time when you wanted to cry but made the decision to try fighting back the tears? Felt that ‘lump in the throat’ feeling as you attempted to swallow your feelings because it didn’t feel safe or socially acceptable to let them out? This is an example of how our emotions, vocal apparatus and communication interact with each other.  

How safe we feel and our self-talk has an impact on what comes out of our mouth and how. Before I understood the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of this, I experienced it first-hand. As a teenager, I was training in classical singing. Though I was a born performer with a flair for the dramatic, I suffered terribly with performance anxiety (a term I was not familiar with at the time – back then, we just called it ‘nerves’ and were encouraged to ‘toughen up’). The more formal the environment, the more nervous I became. My breathing became erratic and my voice shook fearfully. On a number of occasions, I auditioned for roles that allowed me to show a more playful, exuberant side. I remember Directors expressing shock at the sudden transformation – meanwhile, I thought ‘this is how I really sound!’  

Years later, disaster struck. A perfect vocal storm, involving a bad bout of bronchitis, a load of unprocessed trauma and a lack of rest, led to me completely losing my voice. A combination of surgery, vocal rehabilitation, breath work and Performance Psychology support helped me to find it again. A key aspect of this was the building of solid therapeutic relationships. I had to trust the people coaching me through this recovery with some of the things most precious to me: my emotions, stories and voice. This is something I hold in mind as a coach – I remember how vulnerable I felt and how important it was to be treated with care. 

As I learned about what was stopping me from expressing myself fully, the first lesson was about ‘body armour’. We tense and brace our bodies when we feel threatened, and often, we don’t let that tension go. Fear had me tied in knots, so tense that I struggled to express myself. To use our voices clearly, we need the support of our diaphragm and core muscles, and a steady flow of breath. The tension we carry in our neck, jaw, throat, chest and shoulders when we are stressed, anxious, scared or under pressure can seriously inhibit this.  

I went on to explore the ‘unsaid’. What were the things I did not feel safe enough to say? What messages had I received as I grew up about the acceptability of particular emotions? What did I tell myself when I felt those emotions and how did my body respond? Making sense of what was going on under the surface yielded surprising results, and the improvements in my communication were tangible.  

I re-built my performing experience from scratch – starting with audiences of people with whom I had built relationships of trust and moving on from there. Vocally, I am still more sensitive than I once was to physical, emotional or environmental changes, but this is often as much of a gift as it is a curse. My voice lets me know what I need, and perfectly communicates how I am feeling.  

What I experienced, and what I went on to learn in years of training is that being heard and understood requires the courage to be vulnerable. This courage can come partly from trust – both in yourself and the people around you. But sometimes, there won’t be a ‘safe person’ in the room with you at a time when you need to use your voice to speak up. There are ways to boost feelings of internal safety – though the specifics are different for everyone, I suggest starting with breathing ‘in your belly’ (i.e. using your diaphragm), grounding your feet and consciously releasing tension from your shoulders, neck and jaw. Communicating wholeheartedly, honestly and boldly is a skill you can keep developing: ‘speak your truth, even if your voice shakes’.  

For support with any of the issues mentioned here, please contact me. If you have concerns about your vocal health, talk to your GP first.  

*See ‘The Singer’s Psyche’ - research by Dr. Denise Borland for more on the psychology of voice.

Celebrating Neurodiversity

Being diagnosed with ADHD well into adulthood is a fascinating experience and one I’m glad I had. My understanding of what ADHD is has changed a lot over the years. I was vaguely aware of the concept during my school career - it was something ‘naughty boys’ had and manifested in an inability to sit still, disruptive behaviour in class and bad grades. This didn’t apply very neatly to me, so it didn’t occur to anyone as a possibility, as far as I’m aware. I was easily distracted and chatty (a word I’m sure was used exclusively to describe girls), but not ‘badly behaved’. I was brilliant when I put my mind to it, if I do say so myself! The issue seemed to be whether or not I wanted to put my mind to it. I did well at school and university, except in anything too mathematical, but I learned to do well by the seat of my pants. To use creativity and caffeine to pull me through year after year of slightly left-field essays finished at 4am. To sound like I’d read a book after skimming through it on the bus. I eventually learned better study skills and time management capabilities but it was an adrenaline-filled journey getting to the stage of ‘reasonably sensible adult’. 

During my MSc, my main area of study looked at how young people educated outside of mainstream school due to ‘social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’ self-identified. More specifically, how young men and young women* internalised different messages about their struggles. Most of these young people had ADHD. Safe to say, at this point I had no idea how close to home my studies were. I was then of the belief that ADHD diagnostic criteria were far too blunt an instrument, that it was over-diagnosed and that we were pathologising children for not fitting into an education system that was not designed to meet all learners’ needs.  I still believe there’s some truth in that last point, but learning more about ADHD as a neurological difference in the years leading up to my diagnosis made my views on the rest a little more nuanced. 

It feels more positive, here in 2020, to be discussing Neurodiversity as a term to describe, for example, ADHD, Autism Spectrum Disorders and Dyslexia. The word is celebratory, with ‘diversity’ seen as something to be achieved and delighted in. An acknowledgement of all the different ways that brains can work and that this contributes to the many different skills and traits that make up a well-rounded society. Of course, they are still described as ‘disorders’ and still, in many cases require treatment, be it medical or psycho-educational. I’ve been reframing the language of ‘disorder’ for myself by looking at some of the traits and tendencies that can present challenges, and how they so often seem to have a ‘mirror’ trait that is an advantage (like the struggle to think clearly through a task in ordered steps, vs. the creative thinking that gave me the edge in those 4am essays). Still, a society that, just like the school system I remember, is not designed with Neurodiversity in mind can be an exhausting place to navigate.

I have found that body work, be it singing and humming, breath work, yoga or more active forms of meditation are hugely helpful in terms of bringing me back to focus and clearing my busy head. I’d previously put times when I was especially distractable, fidgety or struggling to regulate my emotions down to other causes - did I have anxiety? Was this unprocessed trauma? This is by no means black and white - having a diagnosis doesn’t mean that every road leads back to ADHD. And while it’s true that feeling anxious, stressed, over-tired or otherwise ‘out of whack’ is likely to exacerbate symptoms, I hadn’t realised that there was an underlying cause. But even before I knew the terminology or the layperson neurobiology, I knew what resources worked well for me. Although at first, I struggled to settle into a routine with using them, the more I did it, the more progress I saw. Training as a practitioner gave me even more opportunities to sing, breathe and get in touch with my body. This time of crisis that we’re living through really intensifies the challenges we already face, meaning that it’s more important than ever to stay on top of self-care and connect with our bodies, as well as to stay out of shame when we have a less ‘functional’ day.

A relatively high percentage of the people I’ve worked with over the years have been Neurodiverse in some way. This, along with my own experience, has led me to get really interested in finding out what links and overlapping traits might exist between, for example, ADHD, trauma and attachment (watch this space!). Academic interest aside, it’s been a privilege to be on this adventure together - using my skills and clients’ expertise in their own lives combined to figure out what works best for each amazingly unique person.

*I was quite unaware of the concept of non-binary gender identities at this point! 

Beyond the silver linings

It’s almost four months into the Covid-19 crisis and, in the UK, we’re four weeks into lockdown. At this point, I feel things edging past the initial stages of fear, moments of optimism and finding creative and comforting ways to amuse ourselves and nest. A month of lockdown means that a ‘new normal’ is emerging, along with questions about what habits, rituals, skills and emotions will be carried into the post-pandemic world.

Having written previously about a need to find space for the hopes and fears, joys and despairs present in our current situation, I have now seen first-hand examples of all of these. Things that I will never forget because they were so bleak and impossibly sad, and things I won’t forget because they were perfect examples of how we’ve evolved to seek connection and cooperation, to create and adapt. I wonder how this will be preserved in both my own and our collective memory. What will stick? What will we look back on in disbelief? What will be filtered out for denying our established world view?

As we experience a collective trauma, I’m struck by the different ways that we all attempt to make sense of insane situations. This attempt is a go-to trauma response: ‘if I can just find the bigger meaning, I can move on’. In a world-changing event reminding us that we can’t escape from our biological nature, there isn’t always a neat box or an accessible ‘why’ to help us process the trauma. I stand by my determination for this crisis to lead to a collective re-think of how we want to organise society; and yet, this feels a bit glib in the face of the stark reality of the loss, grief, fear and isolation that is being experienced by so many right now. The best I can hope for in that regard is that our actions now are helpful to ourselves and others wherever possible, and that most of the big learning will come with hindsight and be turned into action. It’s been said so often already, but the old ‘business as usual’ is no longer a possibility, whether we’d like it to be or not.

So with all of this in mind, how do we start to look beyond our much needed silver linings, the day to day practice of building routine, finding distractions and creating ‘safe enough’ nests for ourselves? How do we go about healing from a collective trauma? 

Part of my vision in setting up Live and Breathe involves developing the tools to build communities that foster social justice and direct, wholehearted communication. No small feat, but a vision is about dreaming big! Somewhere to start towards this is normalising vulnerability. Covid-19, it is said, ‘does not discriminate’ and is here to remind us all that there by the grace of God/the universe/insert your ‘big picture’ belief here… go we. While it’s true that a virus does not care about  who you are, it does affect some communities disproportionately. That’s an important point for another day. But health inequality aside, a pandemic is certainly one of those rare situations that forces us to stare down our vulnerability and our mortality, regardless of how wealthy, healthy, hardworking or virtuous we may be on the surface. I can feel the ripples of a sea change creeping in, as formal emails suddenly contain opening gambits like  ‘I hope that you and your loved ones are safe and well’ and Zoom calls involving ‘hardened’ business folks start with a wellbeing check-in. This chipping away at the facade of stoicism and invulnerability is how we start to grow and I hope it persists. Permission and encouragement, when required, to start a work meeting with ‘I’m having a shitty day, I’m using my resources and I’ll be ok, but here’s what I need from you’. The courage to get in touch with that old friend you haven’t seen for years and were worried about contacting again in case it was awkward. Using our experiences of having to give up our routines and re-learn how to work, socialise and live to enable us to be honest about when we don’t know the answer to something. Vulnerability is something I have struggled with showing for years. And I’ve done years of work on getting comfortable with it, though there’s still so much room for growth. So here’s an intervention if ever I’ve seen one - a horrific situation that exposes our common humanity and demands our vulnerability and compassion. 

When we’re feeling too vulnerable and too exposed to go analysing a crisis or thinking about what we can do to help, our job is to breathe, self-soothe (I recommend putting together a go-to collection of soothing sensory items in advance - fluffy blanket, hot chocolate, favourite smells, music, whatever works for you) and to find connection and support, even if it’s ‘just’ remotely watching Netflix with someone who cares about you. And when that difficult moment passes, our job is to find ways to name and express our feelings. I hope that this brave new world is brave enough to let us all admit that sometimes we’re vulnerable.

Finding my voice

This is a cliché like the ones you hear on those ubiquitous TV talent shows, but I can’t remember a time when singing wasn’t part of my life. Although for me, that’s not strictly true – while I’ve been singing since I was quite wee, there were a few years of  vocal wilderness around a decade ago. It started with a bad bout of bronchitis and progressed to surgery and vocal rehab. A combination of bad luck, stuck emotions and a lack of rest resulted in temporary disaster but would ultimately have a happy ending.

Singing and speaking are the main things I’ve always instinctively turned to in order to process my emotions and express who I am (not to mention how I made my money – supporting people mainly through talking). Being unable to really use these resources was both devastating and shame inducing. Who was I if not a singer and professional voice user, and what was I supposed to do with all these inconvenient feelings that had nowhere to go?

This is where I may get a little evangelical about the tools that helped me get back on track and that I now have a passion for sharing with others. The NHS took care of the physical aspect of repairing my vocal apparatus but I needed to address other factors and this is where I first encountered a psychological and body work approach to vocal coaching. At Noble House, I learned about vocal rehab, an understanding of trauma and conscious breath work. I knew it was the right place for me, and still my carefully crafted defence system fought this recovery process every step of the way… until it all started to fall into place. I made leaps and bounds as a singer and a human. I belted out impossibly cheesy songs in my bedroom until my flatmate and I had fits of emotional giggles about this new development. I talked about things I’d never talked about before and felt the improvements come thick and fast.

The obvious next step in this adventure was to start training as a practitioner. It’s been a long process and an eye opening one too. While this has been going on, I’ve continued with my job supporting young people through various challenges in their lives and later, managing a small team of wonderful people who do likewise. I’ve been, and continue to be involved in various bands and music projects. I believe that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been encouraged by a friend to sort out my vocal problems. For most of us, our voices are one of the most important aspects of our identity and ability to participate in communities, to stand up to injustice and to express our feelings. I may be a little biased under the circumstances but I’d say that taking care of this aspect of self and being aware of how closely it’s connected to our emotional world and our health is of vital importance.

‘Tell your truth, find your voice, sing your song’ (Anon).