The world of therapy - call it counselling or coaching or one of many other names - is growing all the time. You only have to flick through a newspaper or cast your eye over the magazine rack in a newsagent's to see its popularity in wider and more varying ways. Why? Are we all more conscious of our worries these days? Becoming too introspective? Is the world getting harder to live in?
I would argue that our interest in psychology and therapy is knowledge-driven. Mobiles and the internet mean that knowledge is significantly more accessible to us all. We are all interested in ourselves (sorry, it's true!) and so self-awareness comes high on the agenda, along with striving for a better life.
Finding out that a favourite celebrity is suffering from severe anxiety or depression means that the taboo against talking about mental health is slowly diminishing. I say slowly because mental health in the workplace is still far from being taboo. Reporting in sick with a mental illness is often not an option, as people fear being labelled by their bosses and colleagues with tags like "crazy", "mad" and lately, "having a melt-down". A tag that can never be removed.
No wonder people don't like to admit they are seeking counselling. It is preferable by some to seek "coaching" as this points to a business-like approach to improving their work skills. Different approaches work for different people and it is more often about finding the right person to help (be they a coach, a counsellor or a mentor) than the methodology itself.
I think we all need help at times in this busy whirlwind work life we have created for ourselves. When taking a break from work for lunch becomes "impossible", or having a holiday now and again sounds like a forgotten dream, it's time to stop and think: What happened? When did things change? Why do I feel like a hamster on a wheel? Maybe it's time to find a good therapist.......
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Monday, 10 January 2011
The King's Stammer
The new film, "The KIng's Speech" is a delight to watch and also a stunning piece of social history. It also brings home to the audience how very difficult it is to speak with a stammer. This morning on BBC Breakfast television, the Chair of the British Stammering Association, Leys Geddes, came to speak about the film and its influence on the British public. What struck me again (as I have written about this before) was how we, as a society, expect everyone to get their message across in double quick time. We are so used to high-speed communication that we interrupt if we are not receiving information quickly enough to suit our multi-tasking world!
I am sure everyone watching Breakfast noticed how the presenters just had to slow down, they had to be patient and wait for Leys to finish his sentences. Otherwise they would have been seen as very insensitive and over bearing. Perhaps people with stammers can teach the rest of us to savour each word we hear, to listen without interrupting before the end of a sentence, to wait patiently for the end of a phrase and to reflect on what they hear. These are things we seem to find difficult, possibly untenable, particularly in business. Think about your conduct on the phone: if there is a silence for more than a millisecond you feel the need to fill it, and a sentence is hardly finished before the interlocator (good word that!) intercepts with their contribution to the conversation.
I hope "The King's Speech" does indeed bring attention to people who stammer, and perhaps allow them a stronger voice. It is only by listening completely and effectively that we can ever hope to understand others.
I am sure everyone watching Breakfast noticed how the presenters just had to slow down, they had to be patient and wait for Leys to finish his sentences. Otherwise they would have been seen as very insensitive and over bearing. Perhaps people with stammers can teach the rest of us to savour each word we hear, to listen without interrupting before the end of a sentence, to wait patiently for the end of a phrase and to reflect on what they hear. These are things we seem to find difficult, possibly untenable, particularly in business. Think about your conduct on the phone: if there is a silence for more than a millisecond you feel the need to fill it, and a sentence is hardly finished before the interlocator (good word that!) intercepts with their contribution to the conversation.
I hope "The King's Speech" does indeed bring attention to people who stammer, and perhaps allow them a stronger voice. It is only by listening completely and effectively that we can ever hope to understand others.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Finally feeling human again
I had a bout of flu or something nasty, which kept coming and going like a boomerang. I am finally back to feeling human enough to use my fingertips! I have been musing about New Year. I prefer this time - about mid-January - to New Year itself. There seem to be so many assumptions and expectations for New Year, that one moment., and the moment never seems to be as interesting as it should be! As a child, I used to hide behind the sofa as mid-night approached, calling out to my parents, "See you next year hee-hee!" because I was convinced that something dramatic would happen as the clock struck twelve. I wasn't nervous, just anticipatory! I thought the world might blow up and I would find myself somewhere completely different!
Yes, I love that quiet time in January, when everyone and everything is supposed to be silenced and recovering from all the celebrations. I suddenly feel motivated to clear out my cupboards, and clear out my mind. Having got over the crazy rush or working and shopping before Christmas, you can finally find time to relax, and to think, to reflect deeply and to throw loads of things in the bin. I love it! It clears the way for me to decide what I am going to do this year. I have decided on two major things in 2011: I am going to Mexico finally. My brother has lived there for 25 years, and I am ashamed to say I have never visited him. At first, it was because the children were small and Mexico City was too polluted, then there was too much going on with their studies, my work etc and I didn't get round to it, but now the time has come! The other major thing is quite a different journey. I am going to do the Hoffman Process. You may have read about it in journal articles. It is a ten-day psychological course, which explores your past in depth and takes you to places you probably never wanted to go, but being the curious sort of person I am, I have to do it! Apart from this, I have the usual New Year's resolutions, like everyone else. Why do we suddenly feel so virtuous because it is January? I would love to know if you have plans for 2011 - do tell if you dare!
Yes, I love that quiet time in January, when everyone and everything is supposed to be silenced and recovering from all the celebrations. I suddenly feel motivated to clear out my cupboards, and clear out my mind. Having got over the crazy rush or working and shopping before Christmas, you can finally find time to relax, and to think, to reflect deeply and to throw loads of things in the bin. I love it! It clears the way for me to decide what I am going to do this year. I have decided on two major things in 2011: I am going to Mexico finally. My brother has lived there for 25 years, and I am ashamed to say I have never visited him. At first, it was because the children were small and Mexico City was too polluted, then there was too much going on with their studies, my work etc and I didn't get round to it, but now the time has come! The other major thing is quite a different journey. I am going to do the Hoffman Process. You may have read about it in journal articles. It is a ten-day psychological course, which explores your past in depth and takes you to places you probably never wanted to go, but being the curious sort of person I am, I have to do it! Apart from this, I have the usual New Year's resolutions, like everyone else. Why do we suddenly feel so virtuous because it is January? I would love to know if you have plans for 2011 - do tell if you dare!
Thursday, 25 November 2010
How was your day at work dear?
When was the last time you spoke in depth about your job? Apart from a brief reference to the latest office gossip, what was on the lunch menu, or the fact that the photocopier broke down AGAIN, do you ever talk to your nearest and dearest about the details that fill so many hours of your life? The minutae of a person's work day are articulately recorded and debated in terms of beauty, creativity and something to be proud of, in Alain de Botton's book, "The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work". This book was inspired when the author noted the passion of a few ship spotters who watch industrial ships pass by on their journey, and were intrigued enough by the size and design of such a transporter, that they were willing to spend their free time sitting in the rain with nothing but a thermos for company.
Work is often dismissed as something to get out of the way, something to escape, something to complain about. Yet in these days of growing unemployment and redundancy, perhaps the value of work should be changing. There are always those who are admired for their achievements, be they exceptionally rich or famous, but what of the ordinary everyday worker, the smallest cogs that contribute to the wheel of life?
When I worked in HR, one of my duties was to do a "desk audit". If someone requested an upgrade, part of the process was to sit with the person at their desk while they showed me exactly what they did all day, demonstrating with documents, samples of their work and talking me through their duties. I got the feeling they loved being able to do this and surely never had another opportunity to chat as much about themselves! I found it far more interesting than you might credit. I particularly remember the Chief Editor at WHO, who was fascinated by her job screening every word, phrase and paragraph in great tomes of medical health jargon. I could not imagine a less stimulating job but she adored it!
Alain de Botton has been brave in opening up a new world of interest for his readers. As he points out, hundreds of years ago people knew exactly who made everything they owned and where it came from, but nowadays such is the complexity and the weaving journey of materials in our world, you would be hard pressed to say where anything in your house was made and by whom! It's interesting to stop and think about the work that goes on behind us sometimes. What do you think?
Work is often dismissed as something to get out of the way, something to escape, something to complain about. Yet in these days of growing unemployment and redundancy, perhaps the value of work should be changing. There are always those who are admired for their achievements, be they exceptionally rich or famous, but what of the ordinary everyday worker, the smallest cogs that contribute to the wheel of life?
When I worked in HR, one of my duties was to do a "desk audit". If someone requested an upgrade, part of the process was to sit with the person at their desk while they showed me exactly what they did all day, demonstrating with documents, samples of their work and talking me through their duties. I got the feeling they loved being able to do this and surely never had another opportunity to chat as much about themselves! I found it far more interesting than you might credit. I particularly remember the Chief Editor at WHO, who was fascinated by her job screening every word, phrase and paragraph in great tomes of medical health jargon. I could not imagine a less stimulating job but she adored it!
Alain de Botton has been brave in opening up a new world of interest for his readers. As he points out, hundreds of years ago people knew exactly who made everything they owned and where it came from, but nowadays such is the complexity and the weaving journey of materials in our world, you would be hard pressed to say where anything in your house was made and by whom! It's interesting to stop and think about the work that goes on behind us sometimes. What do you think?
Monday, 18 October 2010
Have you got a Fairy Godmother?
Do you remember those cute little Walt Disney fairies, floating above Cinderella, wielding their wands, sprinkling magic powder and helping Cinderella's dreams come true? Whenever Cinderella felt a bit down (ie she couldn't find an appropriate song to sing) or needed to be assertive (stand up to her ugly sisters) or couldn't find a thing to wear (no ball dresses in her wardrobe!) those FGMs swooped in to help and guide her, and everything turned out alright.
I have several FGMs. They are essential to me when I need help in solving a problem, making a tough decision or simply in thinking things through clearly. When you have been ruminating in circles about something and don't know who to ask, having an FGM is so helpful. Thinking back, I have always had FGMs but didn't really recognize what they were until recently. My first FGM was Mrs Stoner, my piano teacher. We spent more time talking than playing the piano. She told me tales of life in a Belgian boarding school, (where she had to wear a gown in the bath in case she saw her own body!) while I told her about my awful Maths teacher and asked about boyfriend troubles.
Nowadays my FGMs come from different walks of life and I have met them through work, study and hobbies. What makes them different to friends? They are friends, but they also have a very wise stance and they help me think out of the box. They tend to have lots of useful experience and be good listeners, as well as having plenty of empathy. They are always there for me, even though often separated geographically, they seem to know when they need to come swooping in and help me. So far I haven't seen any magic wands or magic powder, but I'm sure they will produce them one day when really needed - maybe if my car is about to turn into a pumpkin?! Are you lucky enough to have a Fairy God Mother?
I have several FGMs. They are essential to me when I need help in solving a problem, making a tough decision or simply in thinking things through clearly. When you have been ruminating in circles about something and don't know who to ask, having an FGM is so helpful. Thinking back, I have always had FGMs but didn't really recognize what they were until recently. My first FGM was Mrs Stoner, my piano teacher. We spent more time talking than playing the piano. She told me tales of life in a Belgian boarding school, (where she had to wear a gown in the bath in case she saw her own body!) while I told her about my awful Maths teacher and asked about boyfriend troubles.
Nowadays my FGMs come from different walks of life and I have met them through work, study and hobbies. What makes them different to friends? They are friends, but they also have a very wise stance and they help me think out of the box. They tend to have lots of useful experience and be good listeners, as well as having plenty of empathy. They are always there for me, even though often separated geographically, they seem to know when they need to come swooping in and help me. So far I haven't seen any magic wands or magic powder, but I'm sure they will produce them one day when really needed - maybe if my car is about to turn into a pumpkin?! Are you lucky enough to have a Fairy God Mother?
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Are you really listening?
Listening is probably the skill I use most as a counsellor. I often think clients come for counselling just because they need a "good listening to".
I asked my students at an "Introduction to Counselling" session last week to do an exercise where they took it in turns to talk for a few minutes on any subject that interests them, while their partner listened. The most important part of the exercise was that the listener was to close their eyes and not to utter a word or even a sound. The students found this was a very interesting exercise from both points of view. It felt strange not having any interaction, and some of them felt very lonely without the social cues we are used to hearing and seeing while we talk, whatever the context or the subject matter. Some people felt compelled to talk quickly, for fear they would run out of time before they had finished what they wanted to say. The listeners felt very awkward and frustrated, not being able to react. However, some people enjoyed the luxury of talking and being listened to, without constraint.
In our discussions afterwards, we spoke about the way people talk and listen to each other nowadays in general everyday life. It seems rare to feel that you are genuinely being listened to. We need to rush through conversations at work, or even at home, because there is so much else to do. Getting to the end of a sentence is unusual, you expect to be interrupted, especially on the phone. Is it because we are so tuned in to multi-tasking, that we can't complete a conversation before we move on to the next? Is the art of conversation dying? I would love to hear your views.
I asked my students at an "Introduction to Counselling" session last week to do an exercise where they took it in turns to talk for a few minutes on any subject that interests them, while their partner listened. The most important part of the exercise was that the listener was to close their eyes and not to utter a word or even a sound. The students found this was a very interesting exercise from both points of view. It felt strange not having any interaction, and some of them felt very lonely without the social cues we are used to hearing and seeing while we talk, whatever the context or the subject matter. Some people felt compelled to talk quickly, for fear they would run out of time before they had finished what they wanted to say. The listeners felt very awkward and frustrated, not being able to react. However, some people enjoyed the luxury of talking and being listened to, without constraint.
In our discussions afterwards, we spoke about the way people talk and listen to each other nowadays in general everyday life. It seems rare to feel that you are genuinely being listened to. We need to rush through conversations at work, or even at home, because there is so much else to do. Getting to the end of a sentence is unusual, you expect to be interrupted, especially on the phone. Is it because we are so tuned in to multi-tasking, that we can't complete a conversation before we move on to the next? Is the art of conversation dying? I would love to hear your views.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Wonder woman syndrome: having it all?
Up at the crack of dawn, getting yourself and the family ready for the day, snatching a quick coffee, blazing down the road to get to shcool, then work. Multi-tasking all morning: meetings, e-mail, emergencies, urgencies, phone calls, lunch at desk if you are lucky, squeeze in quick trip to gym after sneaking out of work ten minutes early, to stop feeling guilty about that Twix you grabbed earlier, whiz round supermarket and get mad about having to wait for a dear old lady in the queue in front of you to find her change, use the time to do a few pelvic floor exercises and plan supper, mad dash through rush-hour traffic to child-minder's, just manage to get there on the dot of six, rush home, make supper but realize there is one vital ingredient missing - rice - phone hubbie to ask, beg him to stop on way home to buy some rice, manage to feed kids, do homework with them, switch on TV news, re-heat part of supper while cooking late rice arrival, eat semi-dried up supper, bath kids, who have by now watched double their ration of TV for the day, feel guilty again, so read them one of their favourite (too long) stories, say goodnight, pack bags for tomorrow and do a quick laundry wash, hang up clothes which have been in machine for three days, clear up kitchen, sit down on sofa to finally relax, and realize what the time is - must get to bed or will be exhausted tomorrow!
Does this sound like you or someone you know? Are you suffering from wonder woman syndrome?
Does this sound like you or someone you know? Are you suffering from wonder woman syndrome?
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