Too busy to think

Because of Covid, train strikes and protracted engineering works, last week was the first time for a long time I’ve been on what you might call a commuter train. I had just been given a stark warning about not burning out, so I decided to use the 75 minutes as downtime. I sat and read the Harvard Business Review. (I know.)

For the first time in ages, I read four long articles back-to-back, each of them fascinating and thought-provoking.

What struck me was how unfamiliar it felt to be intellectually provoked into thinking differently. Some of the articles talked about ideas I had been vaguely thinking about for a while (how do we use the pandemic to re-think the way we work? When we worry about how to transmit culture in remote-working organisations, what do we really mean and why does it matter? When we complain that remote working doesn’t work, is that because it doesn’t, or because we haven’t done enough radical thinking about how to make it work?). But I realised that in my cult of busyness I had lost the time and mental space to do any big picture thinking, to notice trends or themes coming up in my work, or to give sufficient thought to the underlying meaning in the challenges faced by my clients and how I might better support them.

I found myself thinking about one of my clients who laments her inability to talk “corporate speak”, believing it to be a disadvantage in her career. Reading these articles, particularly about remote working, the very nature of work itself, and the cult of busyness, it seemed to me that unless we have people who think outside the constraints of our current mental models, we will never crack some of these really important problems. HBR articles are often written by academics, people whose entire rationale is to broaden minds, think new thoughts and do research. We need people like my client who can take those ideas and put them into practice in organisations and communities, and to make them useful in the real world.

Like me, I have many clients who struggle to find the time to do any strategic work. But how will we learn and develop if we don’t? How will we uncover the answers if we don’t spend quality time examining the questions?

So maybe this train journey wasn’t exactly downtime. But it certainly energised me and gave me a reason to want to do something about the incipient burnout that is constraining my ability not only to do my job well but to live a satisfying, healthy and useful life.

Time for a change.

The anatomy of saying no

The other day, I got asked to do something I didn’t want to do. I knew from the moment the conversation got underway that it was a “no”. But it took another 48 hours before I politely declined. Since then, I’ve been reflecting on how the process unfolded over those 48 hours. One of the things I help my clients with is how to say no gracefully and without causing mayhem in their relationships, so I thought it might be instructive to unpick my experience step by step and see what I might be able to learn.

THE REQUEST

I didn’t recognise the mobile number that flashed up on my screen. Often I don’t answer those calls. But I’m the first point of contact for my elderly Mum and her carers, so I thought I’d better answer, just in case.

It was indeed someone I didn’t know. A neighbour who is active in local politics. She was asking me if I would stand as a local government representative for our area, to advance the cause she is passionate about.

I’m not especially political, I find politics frustrating and irritating for many reasons, and I have no aspirations to make a contribution via that route.

Coincidentally I’d had a conversation with my partner that morning about not being a “committee” person, instead preferring to volunteer for specific practical tasks.

And, see above, I’m the main point of contact and a carer for my Mum, and it’s incredibly draining and, often, time-consuming. Running a business and a house and a relationship and my Mum means I don’t have the energy or headspace for anything else at the moment.

So I was really clear this was a no.

GOOD MANNERS

I felt it was only fair to listen to what this caller had to say. She represents views I agree with, I’m glad someone like her is on the case, and in general, I’m keen to support her. And it seemed only reasonable to listen properly to the request, to what it involved, and why I should consider it.

I asked some clarifying questions and when she needed an answer.

FLATTERY GETS YOU A LONG WAY

Yes, I admit it. I was flattered to be asked. Somehow I’ve become someone who gets asked to do these sorts of things (this isn’t the first time). It’s not a small thing to be asked to represent your neighbours in an official capacity on an important subject.

Also, for many years, I had pretty low self-esteem when I thought no one would ever value what I had to offer or ask me to take on leadership positions, so there was definitely a residue of gratitude that someone actually wanted me.

TOUGH LOVE

I’m rubbish at this. I hate the idea I might hurt someone’s feelings or make them feel rejected or dismissed. So I didn’t say no straightaway, out of deference to her feelings rather than my own. I don’t know if that was the right decision or not. I did say I had other pressures on my time and wasn’t sure, but would give it due consideration - in other words, I tried not to create false expectations. But somehow I couldn’t just say no there-and-then. It felt too rude/brutal. That’s just me - but I know it’s not just me that feels like this.

MULLING IT OVER

She sent me links to more information and a video of people talking about taking on this kind of role, why they’d done it, what it involved, what satisfaction they got from it. She asked me to respond within three days.

I didn’t look at the links for 24 hours or more. (I was busy. But also I knew the information wouldn’t make any difference. I didn’t want to do it, and nothing I could hear would make me change my mind.) On the morning of the second day, still busy, I thought I ought to take a look (what if she can track whether I’ve looked at it?) so I could turn it down in the knowledge I’d given it proper thought (I hadn’t, it was an entirely instinctive decision, albeit one based on previous similar experiences and a general context of feeling overwhelmed and exhausted and knowing that meant I had to say no to more things).

THE DECLINE

I like this word “decline”. It feels less harsh than a no. It feels more graceful and polite, like declining an invitation to a formal event on a nice piece of card, with a fountain pen.

I felt I should decline sooner rather than later - why leave it to the deadline, especially if she had to find someone else in my place? So 24 hours “early”, I was ready to pass on my decision.

INTROVERTED TENDENCIES (AKA COWARDICE)

I felt I should probably ring her up. She had rung me, she was clearly an extrovert, chatty sort of person. I’m not. I’d much rather do things on text or email. She had sent the additional information via WhatsApp. It was early on a Sunday morning, she has a family and lots of commitments. And yes, cowardly me, I didn’t want to have to do it face-to-face (or the next best thing). So I sent a return WhatsApp. It fills a whole screen of my phone.

MAKING MYSELF SMALL - OR NOT

I often talk to clients about how women minimise themselves. “I’m sorry if you’ve already thought of this.” “I don’t know if this makes sense.” “I’m sorry to let you down.” “I’m sure this is a stupid question.” “I’m sorry I probably maybe shouldn’t oughtn’t although if you’re desperate…”

I was determined not to do that. Woman to woman, she was pretty assertive in her request, why should I feel I had to suck up to her, or soften the blow? Why should I make myself small and secondary and apologetic in my response to an unsolicited request that just didn’t fit into my current priorities? And I should be modelling this stuff that I bang on about to my clients.

So I didn’t let myself type “I’m sorry.” Not once. I thanked her for the approach. I said it wasn’t something I could do right now, and explained why. I admit, I did say “I don’t think I can take this on” when really I should have said “I can’t take this on.” I did quite a lot of (unnecessary?) explaining. I made a suggestion of someone else she could try. I thanked her for the work she does on our behalf.

Too much? Probably, but it felt like the middle ground between being curt and being too soft.

THE RESPONSE

She replied immediately. Her response was even longer than mine to her. She thanked me for considering it, praised how I’d handled the unsolicited call, told me she thought I would be fantastic but she understood why not. She made suggestions for three other things I could do to support the cause. She acknowledged the challenges I have with my Mum, without repeating her own long list of caring commitments that she’d shared in the first call.

And she had already found someone else!

RELIEF!

Good outcome all round, no?

I held my ground, didn’t allow myself to be talked into something I didn’t want to do (I would have in the past), didn’t make myself small. I acknowledged her and her right to make the request. We were both straightforward and honest. She was gracious in response. I feel there won’t be any embarrassment or awkwardness if I bump into her in the village.

And like a very sensible person, she didn’t rely on me saying yes but kept her own options open and continued to seek a solution while waiting to hear from me.

CONCLUSION

Saying no is a complex transaction for many of us, especially if we have empathy for other people (not everyone has this problem!). It is possible to learn how to say no to a REQUEST without saying no to the PERSON making it. It is possible to decline and still feel friendly and connected to the requester and not embarrassed about yourself.

Yes it takes a lot of practice. It requires us to be able to give equal weight to our own wants and needs as well as those of the other person, again something which many of us struggle with. But it IS possible.

I’m relieved I said no. I’m pleased with how I handled it. I know I will be able to do it better next time. And I might be able to support my clients better as a result. It’s a winner!

What are your experiences of saying no - or failing to? What helps you do it, what gets in the way?

Is it okay to talk about the menopause in a coaching session?

I work with a lot of women in their 40s and 50s. You might think that age is irrelevant, and in some ways it is, but after my own experience with the perimenopause, I’m always alert to it as part of the life experience of my clients. When a woman says to me they don’t seem to have the same energy as they used to, or their mood is low, or their sleep is poor, or their memory seems faulty, or their joints ache, I ask about the menopause.

I gave precisely zero thought to the menopause until I started having hot flushes. I can’t remember why now but I made a conscious decision to be open about it, rather than trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. Someone recommended a holistic therapist, and a bucket load of very expensive homeopathic remedies saw off the flushes for a while. But then they came back. I’m of the age where I remember news stories about the dangers of HRT, so I did a lot of research before deciding to talk to my doctor. It turns out that most of the research that led to the scare stories was done on a very particular demographic, and did not represent either the risks or the benefits to someone like me, in my mid-40s, in reasonably good health, with no other hormone-related issues such as breast or ovarian cancer.

For a good two or three years, HRT did me proud. And then my energy and drive fell off a cliff. I was tired - bone tired - all the time, had absolutely no enthusiasm for my business, found it a real struggle to deliver coaching while also working on business development to ensure a flow of future clients. My memory got so bad I began to think I might have young onset dementia. Several times a day, I would ask myself if life was really worth it. Women aged 45 to 55 have the highest female suicide rate and I’ve heard some terrible stories about how close some people have come to taking their own lives. I completely get it.

My GP, unfortunately, did not respond well to this situation. I was told she could only prescribe HRT to alleviate hot flushes, not any of the 40+ other symptoms of the perimenopause. I have no idea whether this is actually what the NICE guidelines say, I didn’t have the energy to check. I also had to fend off suggestions that I needed anti-depressants. If you read enough about the menopause, you know this is a common suggestion, even though there is plenty of evidence they are unnecessary if you can sort out the hormones.

It turns out oestrogen, in particular, is an absolutely vital part of the way our whole body functions. There is hardly a physiological process that doesn’t depend on oestrogen. Hence the number and range of perimenopausal symptoms. Looking back, I realise I had been experiencing many of the symptoms associated with perimenopause for some years - but I had absolutely no idea. No one had ever talked to me about it, not even older women at work who must have been going through it right in front of my eyes. How did they do it?

Finally, I decided my quality of life, and that of my long-suffering partner, was worth more to me than a few quid in the bank, so I went private. I cried every time I thought about going to a specialist who might take me seriously and might even be able to help. In the event, the person I chose was not a cosy counselling sort, so I didn’t get to cry in her office. She’s a no-nonsense, straight-talking, entrepreneurial woman who asked a load of questions, then switched my HRT to a different brand and prescribed testosterone cream. My GP had never even mentioned testosterone cream.

There is only one testosterone cream IN THE WHOLE WORLD that is designed, tested, and licensed for women. Testosterone is seen as a male hormone, so it’s designed and built for men, not women. The cream I use has to be imported from Australia and is only available in a small number of clinics in the UK under a special MHRA (Medicines & Healthcare products Regulatory Agency) licence. Luckily, my chosen specialist is one of them. Other specialists use male-licensed testosterone and carefully monitor the effects in order to get the dose right. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

I can’t tell you how life-changing HRT, including testosterone, has been for me. It’s not perfect, I still don’t always sleep well, my skin is dry, my joints creak a bit and I have definitely lost muscle strength (although if I got my act together and did some decent strength-building exercise I could probably alleviate that). But I have recovered the energy, drive and enthusiasm for life that I thought had gone forever.

HRT is not for everyone. Some people don’t get on with it, and some medical conditions preclude its use. If so, there are other options. If you have a clued-up GP, count yourself lucky. If not, get yourself a private specialist. It’s not a luxury, it’s a literal life-saver.

My clients often think that their perimenopause (and sometimes their health in general) is not a topic for coaching, especially if their company is paying. My view is that your hormonal and general health is an absolutely critical part of your ability to do your job. And there is still a shocking level of ignorance about the perimenopause, which is why I feel it’s an obligation, almost a mission, to bring up the topic with my women clients of a certain age.

There are many people out there now campaigning to raise menopause awareness, among them Davina McCall, Penny Lancaster, and the incomparable Diane Danzebrink who had a conference-room of people in tears when she described her own menopause experience.

I should say that I think there are some upsides to the menopause. No periods, for one. And I find I give much less of a sh*t now about minding my opinions in public or embracing my more militant self and I am much less of a people pleaser than I used to be - I’m sure this is linked to reduced oxytocin levels in the body post-menopause. Quite possibly that means a lot of people are not pleased with me - and that’s not my problem any more.

I’m not an expert, I’m writing this article based on my own experiences and research, but if you’d like to talk about your perimenopause symptoms, or your confidence, authority and impact at work, do please get in touch.

Places to go for more information and support:

British Menopause Society has vast reservoirs of research and information, and you can search for specialists (private and NHS) near you: https://thebms.org.uk/

Menopause Support (Diane Danzebrink): https://menopausesupport.co.uk/

Davina McCall’s Channel 4 documentary: https://www.channel4.com/programmes/davina-mccall-sex-mind-and-the-menopause

Louise Newson the menopause doctor: https://www.drlouisenewson.co.uk/

Anne Henderson (my hero!): https://gynae-expert.co.uk/

Menopause Cafe: https://www.menopausecafe.net/

The Menopause Charity: https://www.themenopausecharity.org/

Menopause and Me: https://www.menopauseandme.co.uk/

We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their actions

I’ve had a number of conversations recently about the interpretations we make about how other people behave.

For example, a boss who won’t intervene in a dispute between two members of a leadership team. Reported to me by a client as being weak and conflict-averse and possibly favouring one of them over the other but doesn’t want to be seen to take sides.

Really? How do you know?

Often, we leap to conclusions about the rationale behind someone else’s actions. But when we find ourselves in a similar situation, we come up with a whole set of other explanations. “They need to resolve these issues between themselves. This is a board room, not the school playground and I’m not here to referee on childish spats.” Or: “I have a number of really big issues on my hands and this is just not important enough for me to give it time right now.” Or: “I don’t want to micro-manage my team. I believe they are experienced enough to know how to deal with an issue like this. I’ll intervene as and when they ask for my help.”

In other words, we judge others by what we see of their actions and behaviour. We judge ourselves by the rationale and reasoning that goes on in our heads. Most people are well-intentioned, there are very few genuinely malign, malicious people in the world. But we don’t stop to remember that when they do something we don’t like or don’t understand.

Taking the time to consider what possible motives someone might have for their behaviour is a step towards being a bit more charitable towards them, at least. At its best, it’s a process of keeping an open mind until you have more information on which to make a judgement. Look for more evidence for what they think about something. Perhaps even ask them what was behind their actions. Work out what you might do in the circumstances, and why, and what might influence you to do something differently.

We still might not like what they do or don’t do, but at least we give them the benefit of believing they’re doing it for good, well-intentioned reasons. Just because it’s causing us a certain amount of discomfort or disruption doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

You might have heard this called the ladder of inference, the psychological process whereby we take a piece of evidence and make a number of mental leaps about what it means until we reach a conclusion which seems to make sense. It goes like this:

“My boss yawned while I was giving that presentation. They obviously thought I was boring or not making sense. If I can’t even hold their attention for 20 minutes, I must be really useless at this job. They don’t suffer fools, I know that. I’m going to be fired any minute.”

From one small fact (boss yawns in meeting) we leap to a conclusion (I’m going to be fired). Usually a worst-case scenario.

What if the boss’s young child was awake during the night, or the neighbours were having a loud party? What if she’s just come from a really demanding meeting, with no time in between for a sandwich and a re-charge? What if she’s dealing with a huge issue somewhere else in the organisation that you don’t know about?

Before you jump to a conclusion, become a detective. Ask a colleague for some feedback. Could your presentation have been more engaging? Did you go on too long? What else the boss is dealing with? Maybe it’s a topic the boss just isn’t that excited about, important though it is?

Developing these skills of open-mindedness and inquiry will stand you in good stead in almost everything you do. For example:

Why did that person fail to tell me they were going to miss the deadline? Maybe they are ashamed to admit they’ve made a mistake? Perhaps they don't have enough knowledge or experience for that task? Maybe they find me intimidating? Maybe I didn’t stress how important the deadline actually is? Maybe I didn’t make it clear that I need to know well in advance if there’s going to be a delay?

You might notice that some of this thinking is about what you might have done, however inadvertently, to create the situation you find yourself in. How much time did you take to explain properly what was required? Did you check they had actually understood what you meant? How much support did you offer them? Did you make it clear it was okay to ask for help or raise issues?

Another classic Stephen Covey quote is “If I really want to improve my situation, I can work on the one thing over which I have control - myself.” Let’s start there.