There is no art without struggle

This edition of the newsletter is taking a slightly different turn. It's in response to a theme of questions I get from strangers and connections alike on LinkedIn. Rarely a week goes by when I'm lucky enough to receive a message from someone congratulating on my recent win of awards, or the success of my latest book. This is great when it happens, its a privilege to be in this position to receive such messages, but I worry that it paints the picture of a man who is at the top of his game, doing what he kinda always wanted to and without a care in the world. But the reality is, while my work has been better than it ever has been, while my profile has been high and while the awards started taking up space on my desk, my own wellbeing has likely been the worst it ever has.

Just over a year ago my mother was unable to recognise my dad for a while. It only lasted about an hour, but it set in motion a series of events that I worry will haunt me for the rest of my life. It was the dawn of a new chapter in the life of my family, when my mum got diagnosed with Alzheimers disease. To anyone reading this with any experience of it, you'll be fully aware of just how heartbreaking this is to all involved. I don't think I've ever struggled so much in my life. I get anxious about going to see my parents as I don't know what mood my dad will be in or whether my mum will be herself or not. I dread the day she no longer recognises me. My stomach jumps each time my dad calls expecting it to be bad news. I wake up some days with grief and find myself enjoying life, then suddenly thinking of mum and dad and feeling immense guilt. Everyday I think about her, I wish she could remember that.

A few months after the above incident, my mum woke up one day and wasn't making any sense. We thought it might be a stroke, the doctors thought it might be too and they admitted her to hospital. She didn't want to stay and we had to sign a bit of paper to allow them to forcibly keep her in if they needed to. A few hours later, they had to do just that. As they restrained her on the ward, with tears streaming down our faces, I hugged my dad and escorted him out of the hospital telling him to not look back. I've rarely seen my dad cry and rarely hugged him. I wouldn't wish that moment on my worst enemy and I hope I never face a day as heartbreaking and as upsetting as that ever again.

A year later, we are trying to work with mum's diagnosis. My dad is struggling still to adapt and I'm struggling to be there for them both. I'll be on a work call while my dad leaves me voicemail saying he can't cope. I'll be sat writing something for work when the shadow of grief washes over me and I find myself crying because it all gets too much. I use my annual leave where I can to spend time with them, to take them away on holiday and make the best of a bad situation. Dementia is known as 'the long goodbye' because effectively that's what you're doing. You're slowly saying goodbye to someone, bit by bit. What I and my family are going through is grief. A slow, protracted grief. But like everyone who struggles, we are trying to live with it and find ways to cope.

While all of the above was going on however, I am also living in an apartment that has got caught up in the cladding scandal in the UK. At various points not knowing if I would need to declare bankruptcy because the apartment couldn't be lived in, or sold. Costs rising, insecurity abound and huge pressure to deal with it. While we have been lucky to fund out a way out (with minimal cost impact on us) we've lived on an effective building site since 2019. It's been a time full of frustration, of worry, of financial stress and an uncertain future.

By the end of this year we expect the cladding issue to finally be resolved and hopes of moving into a house that is closer to my parents so we can better support the quality of the time both mum and dad have left. But it's only now, looking back I realise just how dark the last 18 months have been. I don't think I've articulated to anyone really just how horrible it's felt at regular points throughout that time. And I'm not quite sure how I managed to wipe my eyes, straighten myself out and jump on a Teams call without anyone knowing. It's a lot to be there for a team, to do your job and to deal with life on top.

But during that same period of time, I wrote a bestseller. I was nominated for three awards and won two of them. I made various influencer lists and its felt like I was at the top of my game. But as with many things like this, you only see the good. You only got to see what I wanted you to see on LinkedIn. But now, I wanted you to see this. For balance, for vulnerability and most importantly, for you to understand that suffering is part of all of this. I'm not sure I could have achieved this without the struggle. I once saw some street art that said "without struggle, there is no art" and it always stayed with me. Maybe it's true.

My family situation made me think about how I wrote the book differently. Would the book have helped the manager or employer to better help someone like me or someone in my family with mum's care? Was work a distraction I could throw myself into so I could avoid thinking about my situation? Did that avoidance lead to better output? I don't know, but if I could do it all again, I'd have given it all up for just another year of my mum being 100%.

Being there, for better wellbeing

Wellbeing at work is about how employers and colleagues can be there for each other. It's about getting to know people so that they can be patient, they can help, they can give you space when you need it. How often can we be there for people with simple gestures, by just checking in and acknowledging the struggle someone might be going through? And how much does that really cost you as an organisation? Caregiving often calls us to lean into love we didn't know possible and I think seeing the life's of our people for what they really are, changes our relationship with them too. And for the better.

You cannot hope to reap the benefits of better wellbeing at work if you don't get to understand your people, to know what is going on with their lives. Every single person who works from you will have their own version of the story above to tell this year. If we could have been there for them more, what benefits might we all have gained from doing so? Many of your people are screaming in silence and most them too afraid to tell you. If you can change that, you're onto a winner.