In 2010, I was diagnosed with stress-induced psychosis. I’d been experiencing a range of symptoms for several months, including hearing voices, large gaps in my memory and passing out so I went to my doctor expecting confirmation that I had epilepsy. After a number of scans, blood tests and a couple short GP consults, I was advised that I was anaemic, depressed and had experienced a psychotic break. I was sent home with some iron pills and Citalopram and told to avoid stressful situations.

Easier said than done. I’ve had several breaks since that time, but have thankfully learnt to recognise the triggers. It’s only very recently though that I’ve made the decision to actively avoid certain situations to stave off episodes. The battle is real.

I’ve been sick for a couple weeks now. Not depressed. Or psychotic. More phlegmy, achy and flat. I love my job, my family, my life but I’m surrounded by stressful situations. Most of my work is project based, and I am constantly navigating deadlines, raising funds, appealing for grants, chasing payments, networking, attending meetings, advocating for those in need and when I’m at home, caring for my family who have a variety of needs. I am not complaining – I have so much privilege and have chosen this busy life. But I am aware that in seasons like this – the end of the year, the lack of light, the cold, other people’s loneliness, the loss of friends and icons, the residue of Covid, the cost of living, the wars in Ukraine, Gaza and other humanitarian crises, wanting to do the right thing, assignments to write and my retched menopausal body that seems to hate me at the moment – I feel a little bit beat up and worry that I am edging nearer to that version of me 13 years ago.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the kind of workplaces that people like me need – spaces that are inclusive, welcoming, understanding, spaces that allow for different ways of working and communicating. My own vulnerabilities mean that I lead in a way that is trauma-informed and takes into account the totality of experiences that we go through as a team – as family members, carers, artists, people in recovery…we are people who thrive with flexibility and whose creativity is stimulated by our empathy, our stories, our past and current struggles. We are not just observers and recorders – we are co-travellers, experts by experience. We give care but we need care too. Annualised hours, working from home (or bed), comfortable seats, large (personal) desks, ventilated offices, suitable bathrooms and kitchens, and check-ins – starting the day with ‘How are you arriving?’ and ending with ‘What has gone well?’ can be a game-changer.

And what else? Well, I’m doing it now. Sitting in my bed, writing. This is my third day and I may have to stay here for a couple more. Today, I cancelled four meetings. It was really hard – the unhealthy workoholic in me finds it hard to say no to anything, but I pushed through and let the negative voice within me weep. I made a vow last week to say no more often, to admit when I am struggling, to put myself and my wellbeing first – that whole ‘oxygen mask on yourself before the baby’ analogy – so I can be present and fit for purpose.

I’ve had honey and lemon, soup and fresh bread. And chocolate, and vitamins, blankets, soft music, romantic films, essential oils, tumeric in milk and kind words from my husband and son. I’ve deleted apps from my phone and blocked a few numbers. I might do some crochet this evening. I haven’t checked any spreadsheets or replied to emails, and I haven’t done any food shopping for Christmas – it might have to have a minimalist one.

I am hoping that next week will be a better one. I am looking forward to long sleep-ins, oranges and cinnamon candles, Christmas carols and card games. I am looking forward to the new year. Ambitious projects, new friendships, fulfilling partnerships. May it be fruitful, transformative, brave and healthy.