Coaching, mental health, and powerlessness

Last week was Mental Health Awareness Week, and my social media feeds were flooded with inspirational stories and quotes, and encouragements to talk.

Perhaps one of the most positive things to take away from last week is how normal that sort of message has become. For as long as I can remember, the idea that stress might lead one to needing time off work was longhand for weakness. But increasingly, over the last few years in particular, societies are recognising how important it is to look after one's own mental health.

People are quite used to mentioning their physical fitness regimes in conversations. In fact, gyms often seem to position their treadmills and exercise bikes in front of big windows; doing a physical workout is something to be proud of. We're perhaps not quite there when it comes to something like a meditative practice, but we're doing better than we used to be. We should celebrate that, and not lose the focus just because we're in a different week now.

Mental health and coaching feel like they should go hand in hand; self-awareness, resilience, and empathy for self and others are baked into the coaching mindset. Pretty much every coaching conference I come across has several sessions on coaching for wellbeing. But last week triggered a thought that went along the lines of:

Is the pop culture mental health narrative actually contradictory to a coaching mindset?

That could probably do with some unpicking.

Blurred lines

The prevailing narrative around mental health is well dramatised in this moving advert I saw recently. It features a character called Angela. The advert begins with vivid colours and the opening line: "Such a rewarding couple of years - spending all that time with the family was great!"

But over 30 seconds, the colours are dulled, and Angela describes her emotionally draining commitments to her widowed mother and children. She talks about her husband, and how much they argue because he doesn't help, concluding: "For once, I just need to put myself first."

"For once, I just need to put myself first."

It's difficult to not watch that advert and think: "Yes, go on Angela, you do need that." Self care is important, and her life sounds really tough.

But I'm a coach. I want to remain non-judgemental. And I constantly want to question assumptions.

In this fictional-yet-all-too-real scenario, I wonder what Angela's mother or husband would say.

• Perhaps her mum might say: "Angela's clearly stressed by the changes of the last couple of years, and insists on controlling everything. She can't admit I'm actually able to cope for more than a couple of days without her dad. If she'd just give me some space, that might help both of us."
• Perhaps her husband might say: "I work really hard doing shift work, and am tired when I come home, so I'm not as present with the family as I'd like to be. But whenever we talk, Angela only ever has a go at me for being lazy. On the advice of my mates, I'm putting myself first to look after my mental health."

Every coach knows the value of supporting a coachee in seeing things from a different perspective. And for Angela, the conclusion she draws, while logically coherent, presents a problem. The line between self-care and selfishness can feel blurry. If her husband's reason for being distant is that he's putting himself first, does that make it all alright, or does it demonstrate how it might not be a sustainable solution?

While "I just need to put myself first" might be a healthy, important decision for some people, it feels to me like it's not the best attitude to hold up as the only good example. In the 30-second glimpse we get, there's no hint that Angela and her husband have had a productive conversation about how sad she's feeling about her life and their marriage. Maybe putting herself first might help, but maybe some marriage counselling might help more.

Identity and mindset

Angela's words could be spoken by lots of people, and for lots of different reasons. The conclusion of "put myself first" might or might not be valid for each case.

The challenge with the conversation about mental health is that one, universal conclusion is broadcast to all, and it isn't always the best solution. When someone's having a tough season, putting themselves first might be a good idea, or it might actually do more harm than good. In Angela's case, it might push her husband yet further away.

The conclusion I've come to is that it's about the way a person sees themselves. Listening to Angela, the word that came to mind straightaway for me was powerless. I wonder how the same situation would be spun in the words of someone who felt powerful instead.

Unfortunately, it feels like it's become mainstream to see oneself as powerless. The bad things I'm experiencing are because of the Government's decisions, big business, systemic injustices, cancel culture...it all comes down to the way other people have treated me. In any case, it definitely isn't anything I've done, or could do.

But there's another option.

A response to powerlessness

To illustrate this, I'm reminded of two individuals who would have every right to describe themselves as powerless. Aleksander Solzhenitsyn was held in a gulag in Soviet Russia, and Viktor Frankl in Nazi concentration camps. Both have written books about the experience.

Solzhenitsyn, in The Gulag Archipelago, said: "If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

Solzhenitsyn's conclusion from his very real experience of being powerless was not: "I need to put myself first." It was: "Which part of me needs to change to stop me doing that to others?"

Frankl, in Man's Search for Meaning, said: "Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms - to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." He went on to say: "When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves."

I wonder what Frankl would say to Angela.

Both writers have every right under the sun to claim to be owed something in payment for the appalling experiences no-one should ever have to bear. But neither does. I think they would both stand shoulder-to-shoulder with coaches in saying: "I can hear that your circumstances suck. So, what could you do about it? And what else could you do about it? What would the best possible version of you do about it, really?"

Many concepts that make up a coaching mindset come down to taking responsibility, which decreases a sense of powerlessness. Sometimes that might need some self care, and as coaches we have the great honour of supporting coachees in identifying that, and giving themselves permission to pursue it. But we should always remain curious as to what role the temptation of selfishness (which we all suffer from) is playing.

I believe that coaching, delivered at scale, should be a catalyst for systemic kindness. A society full of individuals putting themselves first jars with that vision somewhat. I'd like to push myself towards becoming more compassionate and generous, and hope that's the effect our coaching has on others too.