Boundaries

Hello, I’m a recovering workaholic

I know it’s been a while since my last post. You know what it’s like. Life gets in the way and I’ve been sooooooo busy. Hang on… where have I heard that before?

As you may have heard, I’m a recovering workaholic. After two too many burnouts, I made the decision this year to take responsibility to and for myself. This year, I started this blog, my own coaching practice and my Masters. I know, I know. It doesn’t sound much like recovery, but I promise, to me, my partner, loved ones and friends, that it IS different this time. How so? Well – let me tell you…

Firstly – is workaholism a thing?

Yep. Different from being a hard worker, an addiction to work can be considered the same as other types of addiction. Beyond just being a hard worker, psychologists like Stephen J. Vodanovich, Chris Piotrowski, Rachel Shifron and Rebekah R. Reysen, explore the physical, cognitive, behavioural, emotional and social consequences of an addiction or compulsion to work.

Here’s the test – next time you’re at a work thing, whether that’s in the office, a social, or doing “one more email/report/phone call/ presentation” at home – do you tell yourself, your friends or family “I just need to get this done.” Need. How about another one? Have you ever cancelled plans with friends and family because of work? Maybe you even lied about it. Guilt. Shame. One of my personal favourites – have you ever resented taking annual leave because it takes more time and energy preparing for your absence and spending three days catching up on ALL the things you didn’t do whilst you were on holiday. Dependency.

You might have heard me say this before – when I was signed off work by doctor and work refused to have me on site, man – that was the hardest. I was heartbroken. Devastated. It took a couple of weeks to deal with that – not the delayed grief of my divorce, which was what I believed was the initial trigger. Withdrawal.

It took me a couple more years before I realised that my relationship with work was crippling me emotionally as well as physically. How did that happen?

Like other types of addiction, there are traps – many traps.

I denied that work was a problem. I told myself that I loved and enjoyed my job. I believed that there would be dire consequences if I didn’t do the things that needed do. I told people that I got more stuff done when there wasn’t anyone else in the office. I told myself that it’ll slow down in a few days/weeks/months/a year or two – I just need to make it until then. As a result, I slept badly, ate badly and relationshipped badly. This in isolation is bad enough but I can’t be the only one to get caught in a weird, unhealthy game of one-up-manship with colleagues after bouts of staying late… can I?

Well – gone are those days!

Which isn’t always easy since my commute mostly consists of five steps from bedroom to the office. I know it doesn’t sound like it – considering my list of new in the introduction – but here’s how I’m maintaining a more balanced approach to work.

Being unashamedly me

As the title of this blog suggests, I’m ambitious. I want to change the world – even if it’s one person and one day at a time. Winding down would just be settling – and I’m not OK with that. I’m happiest when there’s an abundance of activity to satisfy the different Lous. Slowing down or stopping completely will not actually sustain my wellness – so that’s not an option. The caveat is to have a range of activities that nurture and appease all the aspects of me.

Know where it comes from

As part of my recovery, I’m trying to be honest with myself – and allowing me and others to call out my unhelpful bullsh*t. This includes the motivations behind my workaholic behaviours. As a people pleaser, it became too exhausting to try and please everyone. And attracting Fakers became an occupational hazard. Now – I choose who I want to please – and I rank them. You’ll be glad to hear that I am pretty high up on that list! This means that I’ve learnt to say no and not yet to more people.

As someone who has a minor dose of saviour complex, it’s not my job or responsibility to fix or save anyone else. I can help; I can empower, and I can advocate. I cannot take on the world’s evils all by myself, all of the time.

Finally – in the past, when things went wrong, my go-to optimistic statement was “at least I know that I know what’s going on at work”. I know now, that in all aspects of my life, I always have options. There are always some things within my control. I don’t need to use work as an excuse to get lost away, or as a distraction, or to combat loneliness, or to exercise some control at a time where I feel like I don’t.

Know what works for me

When my work addiction was at its peak, I averaged around 70-80 hours a week. It took six months to plan anything social. It resulted in more than a few conversations with my partner and friends about how absent I was. Even when I was physically there, my mind would be working out how to resolve that conflict in the office, or how that would be helpful for my team to learn, or figure out how that would impact our membership.

Protecting my time takes a lot of effort still but that’s more chance to practise! In this space of new projects, it gives me a chance to assess what productivity tools works for me. I use the Most Important Task (MIT) method, which allows me flexibility and more opportunities to be spontaneous, whilst getting my essentials done. Flexibility is important to me so things like the 90-minute focus sessions or the Flowtime Technique really appeals to me and my ambitions. My most favourite productivity tool is the priority axis; on those days where I don’t know which way is up – this is my map.

Making and breaking the rules

My busy brain means that I struggle to jam it into a typical working week. I thrive in busy-ness, on one proviso. Like a vampire waiting at the front door, it has to be invited in. The MIT method above is powerfully effective for me. Instead of setting myself up within a widely recognised work schedule, each day, I pick two or three things that I want to focus on. That’s it. If I’m having a brilliant day, I’ll tick off the additional one or two tasks that were allocated as extras for that day. If more stuff comes off my priority axis – then I’ve wooden-staked it through the metaphorical heart! These get set each day, once I’ve assessed what mood I’m in. This staves off the guilt and, when taking appointments, it prevents me from overbooking. This, and working in blocks, allows me to communicate more clearly with my partner, friends, clients and peers on my focus each day and to move things about as needed, which liberates me from the 9 to 5.

Life shouldn’t be such hard work, and it doesn’t have to be. It does take practise and I might slip up but that’s what being human is about right? But I am trying, and I am learning– and so far, it’s working!

If this article resonates with you – know that you’re not alone and it’s OK to ask for help. Recovery doesn’t happen in isolation. It takes help in many forms, which can include hot beverages and baked goods. Good luck!

A mixed bag

It was my first day at school. I don’t really remember feeling nervous. I learnt to speak English at nursery (or kindergarten for non- UK readers) so, as far as I was concerned, the hard part was done. My mum and I got to the school gates and went to say goodbye. She put her hands on my face and told me to have a good day. All pretty standard. She then handed me a bag of pick-and-mix sweets – not the penny sweets kind, but the fancy ones from Woolworths in the pink stripy bag! She instructed me to share them with the other kids so I could make friends. This was one of those innocuous memories that I had that I didn’t realise left a profound message on me – at least not until I explored this with my therapist as an adult.

My mum was worried that I wouldn’t fit in.

In support of my mother, this was fair. She grew up in the UK as a teenager, after my grandfather moved the family from Hong Kong. I grew up in a Norfolk town where, let’s be honest, isn’t known for its diversity. Like lots of first generation British Born Chinese (BBCs), we were the only Chinese family in our town, especially in the early days. One of my classmates was of Asian descent and we contributed to the handful of ethnic minorities in our school. So, on that first day at school, she unintentionally implanted a belief that I still struggle to shake off on a bad day –

people will only like me if I can bring them something

As a child, I never really fit. I was too Chinese at school; too English at home. I was taught to integrate by my parents and taught to embrace and celebrate my family’s heritage by my grandparents. I stereotypically worked in our family friend’s takeaway as a teenager. I would deal with racial slurs from some customers at the counter and then be ridiculed for using the wrong Chinese words in the kitchen (if you’ve ever tried to say “wash” or “die” in Cantonese, you’ll know what I’m talking about!)

It wasn’t just about race. I was told to work hard, to make a better life for myself. This wasn’t the general culture at my school, so I was torn between studying hard and fitting in. I tried desperately to be good at sports and the arts. I was lucky to have found a great group of friends, even it changed about sometimes. We were working it all out together. However, I stood out like a sore thumb for some people. After a childhood of bullying, when it started to happen to my younger brother, I learnt to fight back. I became a defender and a champion for those who were being victimised. This certainly meant it was harder to keep a low profile, so I got on with it. As lots of us felt as teenagers, everywhere felt like a battleground. The clash of different cultures, expectations, and languages shaped my upbringing of conflict.

And then I left home. I finally finished school, I packed up my stuff into a car, kissed my tearful mother goodbye before I drove off to university – with my two youngest brothers dragging their mattresses to claim my newly vacated bedroom. To cut a long story short – this is where I found my people. Other outcasts, geeks and freaks. My longest love – my best friend – told me a few years back that she was so grateful this unlikely band of misfits found one another. We all grew up feeling the same – like we didn’t fit, for lots of different reasons. We had also picked up the same skill to “fit in” or “fight it out”. Our adult version of the bag of sweets at the school gates was servitude and usefulness.

Our allocated nicknames from others were maternal in nature.

For example, one of my fondest memories was hearing a rabble outside, chanting. When we went to see what the fuss was, it turns out the rugby teams were outside of my house, chanting “Mama Lou” en route to their social.

Of course, it’s nice to liked. It feels good to be needed and important. But as I argued in my previous blog, agreeableness isn’t always helpful. I developed an unhealthy relationship with boundaries – or the lack of. I gave so much of myself away, I had nothing left. When I had to take time off work due to my mental health, I hated myself for being so selfish, for being a failure. I then felt complete loss. How am I still me if my driving purpose wasn’t to take care of others? It took me three months of crying, therapists and hard work to begin to unpick and rebuild my core identities.

It – and some incredible support from awesome people – eventually helped me unlearn the unintended lesson my mother taught me on my first day of school. I didn’t have to show up with something to make friends; I just had to show up. I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t to make other people love me. If I did the things that made me happy, I would meet other people who loved what I loved; luckily for my former colleagues, one of these activities was learning to bake! If I was excited and enthusiastic, people around me were too. If I was happy in myself, then I could help others with energy, generosity and authenticity.

So now, I nourish different aspects of my identity – I am a British Born Chinese person, who connects with other BBCs; I am a Magic: The Gathering player, who spends too much time and money on cardboard; I am a budding miniatures painter, who really wants to win my first painting competition in a year’s time; I am a compassionate, loving friend, who is anything between 20 minutes to two hours late for social engagements (patience is pretty mandatory for my closest people); and I am writer and coach, who is still working some of this stuff out herself.

There is so much fear and uncertainty out there – no wonder we’re all a bit anxious. I know the only thing I can truly do is to look after myself and doing the things that gets me “talking hands” excited, so that I can keep helping others find and maintain their joy.

Whatever the activity is that recharges the different aspects of you, I hope you’re chasing it!

Lou

Goal setting in the mind of an anxious person

I really struggle as defining myself as someone who has ill mental health. Despite my drive to raise awareness and combat stigma, it still gets to me sometimes. I get frustrated that I’m not better yet. I get annoyed at myself that there are some days where I feel limited by my anxiety and depression. I get wound up that I’m not ready to take on the world. Yet.

Yet. That’s such an important word that I’ve tried to introduce into my day to day lexis. It reminds me that I won’t always feel this way. It reminds me that my limitations won’t always be there.

That’s my ambitious brain talking. I like her!

My ambitious brain is starting to make more of an appearance these days – which is nice. It’s completely at odds with my anxious brain, who really doesn’t like another in limelight but that’s OK. My anxious brain is trying to keep me safe. Unfortunately for it, I’ve always been more comfortable in the stretch zone. Oh the ongoing conflict of an anxious, ambitious person!

Anyway, how do I get by with such an internal feud going on. I’ve had to learn to listen to my body. A few years back, I underwent a programme of therapy using the Rosen Method, and as odd as it was, I found it so helpful in understanding how my body undergoes this stress and how it tries to protect me from it.

On those days where I feel energised, focused and driven, I’ll try to write some goals and allow myself to do some day-dreaming. I might even get a few bits done. Right now, I’m developing this blog and looking at starting up my own business. There’s lots to do and lots to learn, which really excites and satisfies my ambitious brain. It also really helps on those days where I wake up and I’m not so sure. There’s a list ready and I know that even on those tentative days, I have a plan to follow and I can just do the bits that I can handle. They help me get to my goals one step at a time.

On those days where I’m low, depressed and anxious, I’ve learnt to take care of myself without the guilt. Guilt for me is the biggest trigger for a downward spiral. And so I try to keep it at bay, reminding myself that I’m not OK but I’m working towards it. I appease my anxious brain by taking a break. On those days, my goals are smaller. They include getting out of bed and getting into clean clothes. Remembering to eat something. Keep drinking squash (I’m not keen on plain water). Maybe drop a message to my tribe (I’m guilty of locking myself away when things are bad). Nothing dramatic but just so that they know and they offer their love and support when I need it most (people can’t actually read minds. Yet.)

Wherever you are on your own journey, I hope that you are kind to yourself and remember it’s OK to have a bad day. There’s lots of stuff around self-care at the moment so it can get confusing. For me, it’s knowing that on those days where I’m particularly tough on myself, I remind myself that I am my own worst critic so no-one else actually thinks these things. I try to human and I will do something that I enjoy and can feel a sense of achievement. Whether that’s painting a new model, levelling up on my game or making the bed.

And then, on those days that I’m up to it, I’m working on world domination.

I wish you luck with your goals – whatever they are and however long it takes you to get there!

Lou

#HobbyGoals

If you’re like me, you love and hate lists in equal measure. It feels great when you’ve got 30 minutes to sort through your workload and get it all down. It feels even better when you can get lots of stuff crossed off! On the other hand, you may also have been paralysed by the sheer amount ahead of you. I can’t be the only who feels like for each thing I cross off, like the heads of the Lernaean Hydra, two more grew to replace it. Emails, meetings, and “have you got five minutes” chats were a very real Sisyphean struggle.

It wasn’t just the actual work, but also the mental load. If you’re unfamiliar with this, an anonymous French illustrator, known simply as Emma, has gone viral over the last couple of years with her comic demonstrating what the domestic mental load looks like. In a previous role, being the only female senior manager and as a people-centred leader, lots of this mental load fell onto me. This meant that outside of the 50+ hours I did in the office, this invaded into my spare time – running to the supermarket to pick up the birthday/leaving/well done treats; looking up local specialist contacts for staff I couldn’t help on my own; and keeping a note of who was struggling with what and triggering issues.

After checking in with my closest people, I decided to be more disciplined with my time and energy. It reminded me that I stopped doing the exercise that my former counsellor shared with me – to protect my boundaries. In a bid to get some of my life back, I pointed out to my line manager that I was the only senior manager that the crying people came to. This was having a negative impact on my well-being and my workload. We then implemented a staff well-being and resilience programme. My other tactic is the main one and one of the few habits I’ve managed to maintain longer term.

I started to set goals for my hobbies. Yes – just like I did at work. I wanted to finally learn to paint miniatures for this game that I invested heavily in; I wanted to finally reduce the ridiculous amount of open missions on Skyrim; and I wanted to be good at Magic: The Gathering again. This retrained my brain in a significant way – if it wasn’t on my list, I wouldn’t get around to doing it. If it’s not on the list, it’s not important. Take a deep breath and listen carefully…

Doing the things that bring you joy and space is so damn important!

Got that? If you replied yes, then you got it much quicker than I did. But let’s talk about how helpful (or not!) guilt can be another time. Ultimately, setting hobby goals gave me a chance to work out why I enjoyed the things I did and want I wanted to get out of it. Having goals and an action plan gave me a weapon to bat off things that tried to leech off my free time. It gave me time to rest and recuperate. Unlike lots of aspect of my job at the time, which involved long term projects and cultural changes, my hobby goals gave me that instant hit of achievement in a shorter space of time. It made me save some time and energy aside to spend with people who nurtured other aspects of my personality – not just Work Lou.

Whatever your hobby, interest, or side hustle is – do more of it. You won’t regret it! If it’s important to you, it is important.

Lou

The Prelude

My self-identity has been constructed around my work ethic – I’m the one who works too hard; the one who has to consult my work calendar before planning social events; the accomplished one; the ambitious one. My name is Lou and I’m a recovering workaholic. It’s been eight months since I last worked. Actually – that’s a lie. I’ve done two days of consultancy and responsibly undertaking my duties as a Trustee.

What have I been doing in all that time? Honestly – there’s been a whole lot of Skyrim, a tonne of Magic: The Gathering, learning to paint miniatures, and a lot of podcasts. There’s also been a lot of tears, numbness, negative spirals, trips to the doctors and panic attacks. So many panic attacks! After six months of not checking in with myself, my old, old friend, the Black Dog, returned and this time, like every time, it felt like it was going to stay.

From a young age, I suffered from depression, anxiety and suicidal tendencies. From an even younger age, I was a dreamer, an adventurer and ambitious. I was bought up on stories of mythical proportions, of legendary superheroes and of life- and galaxy-changing events.

I was a rebel girl, ready to take on the world.

I didn’t want to be a princess when I asked what I wanted to do when I grow up – I wanted to work in a city, maybe in advertising (it was the 90s ok!) It wasn’t until I was an adult that I had the shocking realisation that I was ill-equipped to take on the world, with all its baddies and villains around every corner.

I didn’t pay enough attention to the parts of the stories where I had a partner, sidekick or an ensemble to help me on the journey; or why it was so important to risk everything to find that vital weapon, equipment or artefact; or where there’s was respite, a chance for the hero to rest and recuperate. My heroic journey looked a lot like the Hulk, bare-fist fighting through life – except it’s not the Hulk with his gamma-ray based superpowers, it’s Bruce Banner, his human alter-ego.

Unsurprisingly, it left me battered and bruised at times. Surprisingly, I managed to defeat a few bosses through sheer will and, later, accepted some help along the way. I was the first person in my immediate family to go to university. I was accepted onto a postgraduate research degree straight from my undergraduate. I was a Director by the time I was 32 and a Trustee at 33. As I turned 34, I was tired: burnt out and exhausted. At 34! Despite working with 16- to 22-year olds most of my life, I know that’s not old. I know I shouldn’t feel like I’m ready to retire at 34!

So, in the past eight months, I’ve taken a career break and recovering from ill mental health. I’ve been thinking about my journey and talking to others about their own. Above is what it looked like from the outside. On the inside, it was every bit the epic challenge akin to the heroic stories I grew up with. It was messy, visceral, glorious and rewarding. And it’s not over yet – but more about that later. Within that time, this has been brewing in the background: a blog for me to commit to my recovery and well-being. From different conversations I have had, I know that I’m not the only one who struggles to be both ambitious and anxious – or ambitious to overcome my anxiety. I’m publishing my musings in case it can help someone else who’s facing off against their own super-boss.

Like the ancient, magical tome adventurers discover deep in dark, damp caves, I hope that has some useful insight that can help you with your own  quest.

Lou