A Grid of Emotions

Plotting your route to honest communication

Following my previous article – lessons of lockdown, learnt on the ice – a number of people got in touch to find out more about the ‘emotions grid’; a monitoring system devised by a psychologist to help me share my emotions more accurately and honestly while on my first major solo expedition.

We are winding back the clock to 2004 now. I was preparing to spend more than 70 days alone on the Arctic Ocean’s floating pack ice, in pursuit of becoming the youngest person in history to ski solo to the North Pole.

Aged 26, I was hoping to emulate my role models and heroes – like B?rge Ousland, Robert Swan, Ranulph Fiennes and Erling Kagge – whose posters had adorned my walls, whose books had lined my shelves and whose stories had led me to the ice. 

From a young age – after my father left my and my brother’s lives (a relationship that wasn't rekindled for nearly 30 years) – there was a blank space where I was seeking a template for what it meant to be a man. I settled on what in hindsight were archetypes of macho male accomplishment – polar pioneers, mountaineers, astronauts, military leaders and round-the-world-sailors.

Their feats, their faces and their words created a clear association between strength and indomitability. Introspection, vulnerability and reflection seemed not to feature in their vocabularies – or at least not in the versions they shared publicly.

This perception may have been reinforced by elements of the British schooling system, and indeed our social structure, which for a long time espoused the virtues of a stiff-upper-lip over emotional intelligence. My education and my ego therefore led to me becoming someone who would need help in asking for help. 

This is where the grid came in. On an A6 laminated sheet, glued into the back of my expedition diary, were 26 emotions – a full range of human feeling – measured against a scoring system of 0-4 – ‘not at all’ through to ‘extremely.’ We were short on time and money so this iteration was rough and ready – you'll see an emotion or two repeated – but it proved to be a lifeline. It proved also to be an expedition tool which was ahead of its time; the mental health landscape of the early noughties was archaic, and even more so in my peculiar line of work.

On the satellite phone I would call my expedition manager, Tony Haile, each evening and was usually greeted with the word ‘numbers’. The conversation -– before any further chat was exchanged – went into code – ‘8 – 2’ ‘14 - 4’ ‘18 - 1’ ‘23 - 3’ ‘4 – 4’ and so on. With this data he would seek the guidance of our psychologist on how best to help me that following evening. Did I need a metaphorical arm around my shoulder, kick up the backside or word of encouragement? Would I benefit from a heartfelt message from a loved one, distraction through some amusing anecdote from the real world, or incentive through a new near-term goal?

The shift in my understanding of what constitutes ‘strength’ or 'bravery' began with these phone calls and is mirrored by the changing faces of my role models and heroes. Those I look to for inspiration today display none of the overblown, chest-puffing belligerence, which I recognise now to be the opposite of courage. What takes real bravery is being able to ask for help. Which is why tools for making that step simpler – like the grid system – can be invaluable.

While it will take a long time to completely map out the emotional and psychological impact of this unprecedented and extended period of social isolation, early research – from Benenden Health – suggests that up to 23 million people in the UK could be struggling with poor mental health as a result of the pandemic. Knowing intimately the challenges of isolation and uncertainty – adding to this other pressures such as home-schooling and job losses – these figures are unsurprising, and possibly even conservative.

This is why it feels more important than ever for individuals and businesses to develop – and to continue to evolve – their own personal ‘emotions grid’. Behind the screen, without human interaction, the warning signs of struggle are all too easily masked. Several thousand miles from my team, on the uninhabited, semi-frozen desert of the Arctic Ocean, as a young man – hell-bent on proving a point – I would certainly have suffered in silence were it not for the ‘numbers.’

Here, in this strange kind of wilderness we all share today, it might be prudent to ask yourself: "How am I helping myself and my teammates to narrow the gap between suppression and expression?"

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