Unlock the shit out of yourself

Lived experience of messy, messed-up shit + psychological safety = superpowered people management

Welcome to Insight out. Through my work as a writer and storyteller, I meet and connect with all kinds of people, doing intriguing work, living fascinating lives.

From artists and HR directors to engineers and chief executives, it's a privilege to hear their stories and see the world through their eyes; to learn about the work they've done and the lives they have lived, the paths they have chosen and the people they've become.

In this series – a personal undertaking that I'm giving time and energy to whenever I can, between client projects and family life – I'm working with some of those people, exploring their unique experiences and endeavours, helping them find the words to share their lived insights for the benefit of others.

This story – about overcoming adversity, navigating sexuality and identity, living with chronic illnesses, managing mental health and tapping into your survival self to become a psychological safety superhero – belongs to Ed Jervis , CEO and Chief Disrupter at Inclusion Crowd.

This story is dedicated to those people who never find their way out.

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Earlier this year, out of the blue, Ed Jervis was invited to a funeral.

About 10 years earlier, in an organisation he left long ago, Ed had become aware of a young individual in his wider team structure, struggling with a chronic condition.? From his management position, Ed organised a discreet environment of support for that person, navigating the situation as gently as possible.

And now, in 2024?? A funeral.

The tragic news affected Ed in a very specific way:

Too many parallels.

In a previous life, Ed Jervis had been no stranger to coping mechanisms that do more harm than good.? He's not proud of how he numbed his pain, once upon a time, trapped all too tightly in his own private hell.? Eventually, though – with love, support and fierce determination – Ed banished his coping demons and heaved himself out of it.

Ed went on to discover new career joy as a business leader and people manager.? Having already endured several lifetimes of shit himself, the messy, complex dynamics of human existence that riddle every workplace could not faze him.? Acutely sensitive to the needs and behaviours of the vulnerable, the marginalised and the underrepresented (and, perhaps more importantly, the fearful, angry and defensive) he flourished in the problem-solving heart of a people-driven business.

Over time, that sensitivity evolved into passionate, resilient purpose.

It was that purpose that inspired Ed to create and lead the first official LGBTQ+ network in a global organisation of more than 50,000 employees.

And it was that purpose that inspired Ed to launch and lead Inclusion Crowd, helping employers and recruiters to create organisations that better reflect society.

Reflecting heavily on a loss of life, and how easy it can be for people to suffer in secret, silent self-isolation, Ed (a 'take no prisoners' torchbearer for psychological safety if ever there was one) believes that people managers have a secret weapon they can use to strengthen their teams, drive engagement, foster elite team performance and – you never know – maybe save a life.

What is that secret weapon?

Their own messy, messed up shit.

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It's only a matter of time until no one feels safe

For Ed, people managers have an important part to play in helping to create a better world of work, but the expectation for them to be superheroes is more stranglehold than 'shot in the arm'.

"Employers are leaning hard on people managers to make good on organisational promises to provide psychological safety and enable everyone to 'bring themselves to work'.? But the pressure for people managers to be saviours of psychological safety is pushing them further away from it themselves."

People managers have issues too but are the most likely to feel they can't afford to be 'human'.

"The world wants them to be high-functioning, pristine professionals.? Team members?? We're practically begging them to let it all out.? Senior leaders?? They have more freedom to indulge in vulnerability.? Those in the middle have no such privilege."

A recent study by the Chartered Management Institute found that 82% of UK managers are ‘accidental managers’, promoted on technical competence with no management training.

"Pretending to be perfect in a nest of toxic expectations will ruin you," says Ed.? "Today's people managers are caught in an 'imposter syndrome' epidemic.? They mask and mask to protect themselves, until any capacity to be themselves collapses completely."

In the absence of self and safety, primeval instincts will prevail.

"In that dark and threatening place, there can be no higher thinking.? We stop taking risks, turn inwards and sabotage our own capacity to function, slowly surrendering to paranoia and catastrophisation."

And when people managers don't feel safe, it's only a matter of time until no one feels safe.

"People who don't feel safe enough to be themselves will struggle to create psychological safety and inspire performance.? It's a slow, insidious poison."

Wearing professional propriety and performance pressures like a high-vis hazmat suit – keeping messy and uncomfortable 'distractions' politely at bay – people managers risk losing touch with their own humanity, let alone the humanity of everyone around them.

"So many people managers want nothing to do with the messy, difficult areas in people's lives – I see them avoiding it all the time.? But if your objective is to unlock performance, ignoring the mess – yours as well as theirs – is absolutely the wrong thing to do.

"If you can't hold space for your people to be human, you shouldn't manage people."

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Before we explore that any further, let's take a walk through the back catalogue of 'messy, messed-up shit' that used to be the life (and nearly the death) of Ed Jervis and find out what 'parallels' we were referring to earlier…

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One decision away from dying

Ed Jervis grew up in a conflict zone.? Born in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, his childhood was shaped by ethno-nationalist oppression and transgenerational trauma.

"We were a Catholic family living in the margins of a hostile environment.? Our history was fighting prejudice, navigating discrimination and maintaining dignity.? Beyond our front door, trust and safety were complex commodities.

"Tanks and bombs; bombs and guns; people killed each other in the streets.? Navigating that environment, telling friend from foe – these were skills learned quickly in Northern Ireland.? More than once, my family got lucky: one decision away from walking past a car bomb or leaving a restaurant before it exploded.? That was the everyday reality of life during the Troubles."

But inside the family home?? Safety.? Normality.? Community support.

"My parents were (and still are) amazing – it was the safest, most wonderful place in the world."

At the age of 11, Ed was diagnosed with the skin condition, psoriasis, attributed to stress.? He was told it would be with him for life.

But when it went into complete remission, he quickly forgot about it.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

After high school, Ed leapt out of his comfort zone to attend college in Belfast, a long way from home.? It was a good time, "but the wheels fell off when I realised I was gay."

Ed did not want to be gay.

"If I could have taken a pill that would have made me straight, I would have.? I would have cut my own arm off for it.? Years of heteronormative societal grooming and internalised homophobia – growing up in a devout Catholic community in a Christian fundamentalist country – filled me with confusion and despair.

"Most of all, I couldn't stand thinking of what it would do to my parents."

"When this thing lands, I am a gay man."

By the time he finished college, having decided to attend university in Manchester, England, Ed had largely accepted his sexuality.

"I remember saying to myself, as the plane sped down the runway, 'When this thing lands, I'm going to live a completely open life as a gay man.'? Suddenly making that commitment to myself felt very surreal – it wasn't premeditated."

The prospect of coming out to a new world of strangers terrified Ed, but the terror swiftly dissipated as the plane touched down.

"I rocked up at university, kicked the doors in and started living my fabulous new gay life."

'Second adolescence' is a common experience for LGBTQ+ adults.

"That was me, making up for lost time.? It was a joyous freedom I'd never experienced before."

The toxic torture of the untold truth

Sadly, a shadow at the back of his mind began gnawing at Ed's new life and sense of self:

The truth of his new reality existed only in England.

"I was living a complex double life, hiding who I really was from my family.? I'd told my sisters before leaving home, which became a huge burden for them.? Knowing that I'd have to come out to my parents one day was eating me alive."

The tension between Ed's free and closeted selves became intolerable, twisting him tighter and tighter.

Until the psoriasis came back with a vengeance.

"I'd just got my first proper boyfriend when it erupted all over my body, pulverising my confidence and self-esteem."

This time, remission was not waiting in the wings.

"I was such a mess.? My relationship broke down eventually.? My new freedom was buried alive."

At its worst, the psoriasis covered more than 50% of Ed's body, including his face, putting him in hospital several times.

"I was so horribly sore all the time.? All that pain under my clothes made me crazy."

Angry, uncomfortable, "trapped in an ugly body", Ed hit the booze hard to escape:

"I couldn’t function sober.? And so, as well as 'gay me' and 'not-gay me', there was quiet, shy, sober me and…this other guy, that guy – the drunken life and soul of the party.? All the clichés.? Where's the real you in any of that?"

Ed finally came out to his parents in his third year at university.

"I will never forget the fear. ?It felt like the game was up, that it was all crashing down.? It was a difficult experience, but we got there in the end."

For Ed, coming out fully "made sense of everything", setting new foundations for a life of authenticity, opportunity and confidence.

It promised freedom and healing.

But not, unfortunately, from the psoriasis…

Falling to pieces

"I lost my 20s.? I spent the whole damn time fighting through work with psoriasis."

Desperately unhappy, maddened by his condition, Ed threw himself into work with the feverish drive of a man on the edge.

"It was a chaotic start to my career: too much, too high, too big, too soon.? I excelled in every role, but I was unreliable. ?Escape was my only obsession; work always came second."

Ed attempted various cruel and unusual treatments, but his drinking often got in the way.? Over time, he developed micro-behaviours to avoid seeing and thinking about his appearance, several of which he still struggles with today:

"I find it hard to be near reflective surfaces of any kind.? Going to the opticians and the hairdressers was impossible.? I avoided natural light.? In conversation, I never made eye contact.? My self-talk spiralled out of control whenever I knew someone was looking at me.

"I was constantly trying to hide that I was literally falling apart.? I'd tape up inside my sleeves and trouser legs, but I still left trails of skin wherever I went.

"I would stare longingly at my bed in the mornings.? Sleep was all I really had to look forward to."

Wreckage and rebirth

Although he looks back on it more charitably now, Ed approached his 30s with one failure after another in his wake.

It's a wonder he made it as far as he did before the breaking point.

"I snapped.? I walked out of my life.? I had a huge fight with an old banking boss (the villainous kind that everyone hated) and stormed out of the building.? I thought about ending it all on the way home but instead I called my parents.? They didn't ask questions, just told me: 'Come home.'"

Ed ended up staying in the "safety bubble" of his family home for a whole year.? He stopped drinking, hit the gym and started tackling his psoriasis with local health services.

(He also had his ears rebuilt, but that’s a whole other story.)

As he stabilised and his health improved, Ed moved back to Manchester.

He started a drug trial.

And developed Chrohn's Disease, a related autoimmune condition.

He started a different drug trial.

And got much better results.

(Today, a weekly biological injection treats both the psoriasis and the Chrohn's, keeping them in remission, although the mental health legacy of both conditions is something Ed continues to live with.)

And so, finally – finally – he was free to–

Nope

Back in Manchester, through a friend of a friend, Ed was offered the opportunity to become a partner in a bar in the city's iconic Gay Village.

(To take such a prestigious place in the heart of Mancunian queer culture and commerce was a dream come true for Ed.? Years before, watching Queer as Folk – the pioneering TV show chronicling the lives of gay men in the Village – he'd promised himself he would one day find a place in that world.)

The bar "blew up" and became a huge, popular fixture in the Manchester gay scene.

"But then my business partner – who turned out to be quite the accomplished con artist – went on the run with all the money."

Ed, misguided into signing several unforgiving guarantees, was left with hard-edged members from the grittier end of the local business community at his door and inviting him to 'get in the car'.

Faced with an eye-opening menu of unsavoury outcomes, Ed did what anyone who's already been to hell and back might do:

"I said, 'I'm going nowhere, we're sorting this out.'? I made arrangements with every single one of them.? And I stayed sober."

Now, with more than his fair share of laser-focused incentivisation, Ed knuckled down for some serious, respectable hard graft, six years of repaying someone else's crooked debts, and what turned out to be the start of a completely new and personally groundbreaking career chapter.

The arrival of Ed Jervis

Sixteen months into that new chapter, Ed began working for an international public service company and never looked back.

For ten years – until he left to focus full time on Inclusion Crowd – Ed rewrote the legacy of his past, taking every lived experience, every instinct, skill and insight ever acquired and turning them into a formidable personal toolkit for high-impact 'people business' management.

"It was a hugely important time for me; I was in my element.? In a world defined by human dynamics, I was a listener, a fixer, a negotiator, a mediator.? I rolled up my sleeves (nice to be able to finally do that) and got stuck into it."

At the height of his management responsibilities, Ed led a team of about 300 people with an annual budget of nearly ￡20m, helping steer a complex people business in and out of complex change.

'Can do' commitment to exceptional performance and delivery played a big part in this.

Self-surrendering acquiescence to how others might expect him to be did not.

"My confidence comes from knowing absolutely that I can deliver what I'm supposed to deliver.? That's how I learned to survive and it's the gift that keeps on giving.? Don't worry about what everyone else is doing and how they're presenting – ground yourself in your own positive reinforcement."

And where does that come from?

There are superpowers in our messiness

"Clinging to this rock, hurtling through space, I have a 100% success rate of surviving all the shit that life has thrown at me.? Yeah, it's mostly 'personal' stuff, but – you know what? – most of what we have to deal with in our personal lives is much fucking harder than the business of business."

And yet we continue to measure ourselves against outdated yardsticks.

"Sometimes we look in the mirror and see only inadequacy.? Weakness and wrongness.? We've got to flip that.? The shit in your life?? It doesn't make you unworthy – it makes you a legend.

"Our capacity to survive the adverse and inhospitable makes us stronger, more resilient.? You've had to fight.? You've found a way.? You've got the tools and the raw capability.? You.? Are.? Enough.

"Hell, you're fucking hard as nails.? Your own track record of survival in this messy world is all you'll ever need.? Everyone puts their knickers on one leg at a time, just like you, so fuck everybody else – and that includes those asshole inner voices."

For Ed, the math looks a bit like this:

Self-respecting lived experience of messy, messed-up shit

+ psychological safety

= superpowered high performance

"Elite performance doesn't live in denial and burn out.? By releasing ourselves from masking and pretending, we become relaxed, agile and perceptive, able to think and respond at higher levels.

"We don't become superheroes by hiding ourselves and our messiness – there are superpowers in our messiness, and they can be hugely valuable, commercially-speaking.? My advice is to lean into what you thought was shouting imperfection about you.? Tap into your survival self.? Use it as a source of strength and inspiration, every day.

"And don't beat yourself up when you're not feeling it.? In that passing moment, give yourself permission simply to be."

And how does all of that translate into creating psychological safety for others?

Release power to realise potential

It is a truth universally acknowledged in the modern world that the very best people managers live on the ground where the real magic happens, not in the ivory towers of the old order.

"My own messiness has made me totally comfortable stepping up to the messiness with other people – people with vulnerable children, parents or other relatives; people whose relationships were breaking down; people with substance and alcohol challenges; and a whole waiting room of physical and mental conditions.

"Managing an organisation of people, I was able to create faster, stronger, deeper connections with greater awareness and understanding of the human dynamics in play."

At its heart, says Ed, people management is relationship management.

"If you only have reactive, transactional relationships with your team, they'll never open up to you and you'll never be able to help them get the very best out of themselves.

"To be an elite people manager, you must create meaningful connections.? To do that, you must build trust.? And to do that, you must release power."

'Releasing power' means letting people see and understand the real you.

"Being authentic is extremely hard for people who don't feel secure, but consistently sharing vulnerability when you have power can create platinum-standard trust."

Ed cautions against sham 'performances' of authenticity:

"If all you give is inauthentic and performative – if you're giving nothing away of your own messiness – your efforts will backfire, I guarantee.? Our animal instincts pick up on that nonsense easily.? And don't rope in someone else's messy as a stunt-double – that's cheap, that's low.? Whatever you give away needs to be yours."

At the same time, letting the inner self flow freely can unblock muted emotional intelligence:

"What's true for you [see 'the math' above] is true for your team as well.? The world needs people managers in a space where they can be comfortable, secure and curious when engaging with the individuals they lead.

"Counter-productive behaviours are almost always something else presenting that way – insecurity and pain, for example.? Unlocking performance is the non-judgemental journey to find out what that something is, and then providing authentic support to address it.

"These are critical skills for people managers.? Combined with zero squeamishness and a personal commitment to positive people outcomes, curiosity is how medical and mental health professionals diagnose issues that hold people back.? In exactly the same way, people managers can unlock potential, elevate to elite performance and maybe even help to turn someone's life around.

"Leaning into your own messiness can help you to unlock the shit out of your own people management potential."

Start in the one place we never want to go

Although it did not come easy, Ed feels very fortunate to have found his way out.

Right now, he and his husband–

("From opposite sides of the planet we each came to England – a recovering Catholic and a recovering Muslim, trailing all sorts of baggage behind us – seeking an opportunity to live freely as our true selves.? We found each other at the end of that journey.")

–have just adopted their second child and are adjusting to life as a "now complete" family.

Both children were born into challenging circumstances.? Ed hopes they are now one step closer to never even needing to 'find a way out'.

"My whole world now is about creating environments in which people can be their very best selves.? At home, that means giving our children the love, skills and tools to navigate their own journey of identity, overcome their birth stories and time in care, and go on to fulfil their potential."

For Ed, the need to give people that kind of support is one of the great challenges of our age:

"I didn't get out on my own – I will be forever grateful to all the people who helped me, including many in the world of work.

"Employers, leaders and managers have the opportunity and the responsibility to be a game-changing catalyst for their people.? And the beauty is that with the right care and support, those people can become game-changing catalysts for their employers."

Getting it right means looking messy, personal issues in the eye, accepting them and doing everything you can to set them free.

"And you start in the one place we never want to go: the mirror."

Oliver Blackwell is a writer and storyteller for responsible businesses and people with purpose. If you have a story about being human in the world of work that you would like to tell, please connect with Oliver on LinkedIn.