I earn part of my living by telling people and organisations working in the creative sector how to work healthily, for themselves and their collaborators.
I work in the creative sector and every so often post about my poor mental health online.
That's probably not sensible. It probably doesn't look good. It probably costs me clients.
If I'm going round saying I know how you should look after yourself, what does it say that I fall apart every few months? Why should you listen to me?
We're all in the same system
A central part of my practice is the fact it's rooted in recognising what can't change. Knowing which factors are beyond your means to influence allows you to focus on transforming the rest.
My research around burnout focused on political, social and structural context. What are the circumstances that create burnout and poor wellbeing in the sector, and why do we keep telling individuals that it's their fault? We have a culture of blaming the individual because changing the system is inconvenient.
But I'm part of that system too
Unpaid invoices. Holding dates for work enquiries that go quiet. Inaccessible or oppressive working practices. Keeping a roof over my head and food in my mouth.
These all affect me, even if I get everything else right. I could go on, in fact. But there's the simple fact that individual change will never outweigh change that needs to happen on the level of the organisations, funders and politics that turn the wheels of the creative sector.
If you can't do, teach
It's a cliche, but in my case it's true. I turned off my freelance email notifications for the first time ever this past week while I was on holiday. It was terrifying.
Beyond all other sector health pressures, precarity makes me disobey my own advice constantly. I take on too much work, I say yes to projects that give me bad feelings and answer emails and texts out of hours because I am scared of not having enough money next month.
I can tell you all the things you should be doing to avoid this. I can tell you that it's ok if you can't manage to wean yourself off it entirely. I can help you. But I am a massive hypocrite.
I have a real saviour complex, deep down. I may think I'm an awful person (there's those mental health troubles I mentioned) but I also think I can make real change in this sector, and that the changes I can make aren't happening without me.
It's not true - I see contemporaries doing incredible work in making change around me, creating a kinder environment. But I do have a brain that tends to hang on to things, and that one's stuck pretty deep.
I'm in a fortunate enough position to afford private therapy, so I'm confident I'll get there eventually. Until then, I'll help others to do what I can't.
Life is bigger than work
Why do I go to therapy? Well, that would be because of my fun and exciting range of mental health problems that are broadly tied into the trauma of growing up as a neurodivergent person in a neurotypical world. Turns out that messes you up a bit.
But it does mean that my brain does a whole range of unexpected things that have nothing to do with working in the creative sector.
Work creates more stress in my life than ever before. As I've moved from early to mid career and realised that some people actually know who I am, Impostor Syndrome has evolved like an unfortunate Pokémon into the idea that I must appear perfect in all things.
That's too much pressure, though. So here I am. I'm Graham, my brain is mean to me, and I like to talk about that so other folks feel safe to. Nice to meet you again.
