Why do we yield to a torrent of mental anguish and work-based strain before we ask for help? What makes us believe that we have to hold an unbearable and impossible load alone? When we know that the unspoken expectation to "soldier on" serves the folks at the top of the proverbial layer cake and definitely not us, why do we do it? And how can we stop?

All useful questions to consider, and I encourage you to reflect on your own answers, but for the most part, I'd say they're not the primary focus when it comes to moving on skillfully, because a) we know the answers already (cultural conditioning, capitalism, social pressure, systemic inequality, etc), and yet we carry on regardless, which leads me to b) the realm of "why" can lead us to conceptualising, excusing, ruminating, lamenting and bemoaning. Whereas the more constructive and change-making approach is to ask: what now, what do I/we need to do differently, how can I/we help to make things better?

Conversations that steer change
A lot of my work involves facilitating lines of inquiry that people have resisted or not had the space for before. Often they're faced or tasked with making changes that inherently question the merits of what they've gotten accustomed to doing, how they've gotten used to communicating, and the ways they've become habituated to working.

No judgement. The work of change is hard because it means disclosing our unsaid judgements, facing biases that we tell ourselves and our others we don't have, challenging the narratives we've assumed or absorbed to be true, and therefore risking exposure and vulnerability. Organisationally it means pausing the hamster wheel and doing things a little differently, and how many leaders want to do that when they have budgets, KPIs and margins to worry about? I'm glad to work with individuals and organisations who do want to do that, who are open to exploring the truth, and the harm, of the status quo, in the interests of creating meaningful change.

Lately, I find myself working with a lot of women in positions of influence or power, often in senior or leadership roles, women who are in the Second Spring* of their lives, who seek and desire to be more rather than have yet more piled on them to do, women who are literally and figuratively sick and tired of the pernicious culture of productivity and overdrive. I'm both gladdened and saddened that it's come to this, but here we are, and this is the place from which we start over.

How are you, really?
That's the first question, which necessarily shifts the focus away from the standard science/knowledge/industrialist approach of Western culture, where we tend to think we can read/think/calculate/strategise our way out of difficult scenarios, that the solution lies in accruing and acquiring more knowledge. Our minds can become disconnected from our hearts in this process if we're not mindful of how much information, from who/where and what we're consuming, which can lead to the dehumanisation and the belittling of our felt sense of what is right and good for us. Rather than stuff ourselves overfull, how about we stop to process, digest and act on what we already know?

What do we even know, how do we even feel? These can be hard questions if we've never had the chance, support, encouragement or need to consider them before, where we've felt like we have to keep going and suffer in silence. The people I’ve had the pleasure to work with have actively reached out and paused to consider where and how they need to resource themselves, to fill their own cups so to speak, by creating stronger boundaries and recognising their limitations, so that they can maintain rather than diminish that sense of spirited enthusiasm that inspired them to do what they do in the first place, and contribute from a place of abundance rather than scarcity, fear and the pernicious cultural attitude of "not enoughness".

It’s not always easy and therein lie the most fruits – by admitting we need something different, we tap into what the Zen Buddhist teacher, anthropologist, ecologist and civil rights activist, Joan Halifax calls “wise hope” – facing the reality and complexity of life at its hardest, and acting on the fact that we have the capacity, agency and the responsibility, to do something about it.

Conscientious progress and meaningful change
In order to create and facilitate change, we have to be sufficiently resourced, confident, willing and connected to unpack whatever holds us back. The alternative is to give in to doubt, negativity, frustration and despair. That's not necessary. As Joan Halifax says, we have to “show up”, knowing “that indifference kills. In service to peace, in service to non-violence, in service to life, we live in the embrace of wise hope.”

In short, facing the parts of ourselves we’d rather not is how we get out of the comfort zone and into a place and process that can help us evolve with intention. This is progress, to reclaim the word for the purpose of conscious and conscientious change rather than change for the self-serving sake of capitalistic systems. It all boils down to considering, what really matters, and opening up to whatever might come next.

*In Chinese medicine, the menopause is called "the second Spring". In words and sentiments that are happily different to the miserable and marginalising notions that stain the perception and treatment of women in the Western world, the Chinese perspective is that this transition is a positive turn and a natural shift away from the demands, impositions and expectations that typify the earlier years of figuring who we are, what we do with our lives and for whose benefit (eg. studying, career, motherhood, caring for others more than ourselves). Now we get to, because we have to, prioritise our own health and wellbeing.