Mental illness in the workplace

From the UK National Mental Health Development UnitFewer than four in ten employers say that they would consider employing someone with a history of mental health problems.”

It is ironic then to consider research that suggests that one in 25 business leaders may be a psychopath, even though the condition may not be formally recognised and certainly undiagnosed. I happened to hear Jon Ronson the author of ‘The Psychopath test’ being interviewed about his work on the radio last Sunday. What he had to say resonated with my own experience of some senior, and feared, people in the corporate world.

Ronson quoted Robert Hare’s work for a definition of the corporate psychopath ‘People who are psychopathic prey ruthlessly on others using charm, deceit, violence or other methods that allow them to get what they want. The symptoms of psychopathy include: lack of a conscience or sense of guilt, lack of empathy, egocentricity, pathological lying, repeated violations of social norms, disregard for the law, shallow emotions, and a history of victimizing others.’ Hare, Robert D. Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us. New York, NY: The Guilford Press, 1993.

Ronson claims that one in a hundred people are psychopaths and that they present a façade of normality. In his book he has constructed a check list of defining characteristics, that describe psychopaths, noting the primary trait as a lack of empathy. He names a number of well known business identities who pass the test, ostensibly successful business psychopaths. Apparently corporate culture supports callousness, providing an environment where a disregard of the emotions of others can be an asset. A pyschopath can rationalise and intellectualise about what another may be thinking but the can not grasp what another may feel.

If the above doesn’t sound quite right turn to Scientific American and note that psychopaths are rarely psychotic or violent in fact; “Psychopathy reminds us that media depictions of mental illness often contain as much fiction as fact.”

Funny world and I, for one, am not laughing.

Selfish schmelfish

The tram lurched and so did I. I stepped on the toes of the guy standing next to me and he growled, I thought he was going to bite me. I stepped back smiling apologetically while saying sorry. Sheepishly I looked down while he glowered. The tram ride to work is usually less eventful than it was this morning.

I was still thinking about the snarling executive while sitting in my workplace lunch room at mid-day. A couple of colleagues sat nearby, talking about their weekends. I wasn’t really listening until one said something about someone “suicidal”, she was describing a mother of young children, something, something….she said. The person listening tsk’ed and said “How selfish…”. I nearly choked on my cauliflower soup with nutmeg and lemon, I did sputter…or was it a silent splutter?

I’m affronted to hear someone suicidal described as selfish, it makes me really cross. You can’t look with your everyday rational mind at the intentions or actions of someone in the grip of an inner tempest, and far removed from normal experience, and then conclude they’re selfish. Obviously my last statement is not true, many people do exactly that. As galling as I find the view, many believe suicide is a selfish act and I do not. I can’t see it.

Back in the lunch room, I didn’t say anything. The conversationalists noticed me, with soup on my chin, and they stopped talking. I suspect it wasn’t the drips but something more leper like about me that silenced the conversation: my background, and possibly the the scowl that had congealed on my cauliflower flecked countenance. How do I dream up these situations? Dazed, and decidedly lumpy, I sat silent.

I didn’t say anything. If only I had connected with my inner terrier, like this morning’s tram traveller. With a bit of his energy I could have growled or even howled. I did howl on the inside and then admonished myself (again on the inside)for the next few hours, for not speaking up. I’ve promised I’ll bark next time. If not a bark, I’ll let out a bellow of distress.

If you, or someone you know, needs emotional support call Lifeline on 13 11 14, in Australia. Crisis counselling is available around the world.

When the force is against you

I recently participated in a large group conversation about suicide. I sat, actually I stood, on the sidelines rather than joining speakers in the middle. I listened with intent and participated.

The themes and feelings that were expressed of guilt, loss and not understanding, were familiar. There were two points that caused me to call out with a mix of outrage and distress. One was the suggestion that suicide was a selfish act and narcissistic. Three or four recent posts here have been devoted to exploring that view. I don’t seek enlightenment, per se, but I am looking for greater understanding, and empathy.

The other point that brought a strangled sort of howl of ‘No…” from me was when someone suggested that making a suicidal person an involuntary patient saved lives. Saving lives maybe a noble cause but not while removing every gram of self in the process. I couldn’t quite believe that such an oppressive action was possible, involuntary detention is used in the USA and now I know that similar action is also codified in law in Australia.

I am outraged and distressed that someone can be taken into custody and subject to treatment against their will. That this sort of action is deemed to be for their own good, and the very system set up to provide support. Whose good does that serve?

I am outraged that someone who has lost hope can also be made helpless, powerless, and be so disregarded.

I am also indebted to the person who left a comment, on another post, explaining how that combination of hopelessness and helplessness can motivate acts of suicide.

I think of how ill my mother was with an undiagnosed cancer last year and the efforts of my sisters to support her at home until she relented and reluctantly agreed to go to hospital. We wouldn’t we have forced her into treatment, not for her own good or for ours.

At work, where I am responsible for delivering training, I occasionally come up against a corporate imperative to make attendance at training sessions compulsory, and it makes me a little bit ill. I won’t make training compulsory. If somebody wants to come to training I am pleased, and if they don’t I trust they are managing their own learning and career needs. I can try to entice them by making the training more interesting, more relevant, more compelling and delicious but I do not want anyone there who doesn’t want to be there.

I don’t feel that allowing the space for self determination makes me a ‘patsy’, a loser. I don’t feel diminished by allowing someone else to hold onto their own power and the right (it is a right) of self determination. We have choices, each of us must be able to exercise our own power of choice in regard to our needs and treatment.

This is an instance where I can not appreciate or support what was expressed, however well intentioned some are about forcing others into treatment. No. I am one-sided on this issue.

Our orphan experiences that aren’t welcome at work

I wrote about The Burden of One’s Own Story back in January. Being heavy hearted and unable to be your whole self at work was on my mind, I was (and mostly still am) perplexed about how to integrate my life (outside of work) experiences with my work-life.

I am not sure why it is that I feel unable to bring my whole self to work. There are experiences that I suspect are not welcome in the office, orphans. My workplace identity is only part of me, the regular, normal, routine, most dull parts of me to work, it’s all that work can cope with. Where I work is probably much like other workplaces. Employees are acquaintances of their employer rather than friends.

Not that I want to be particularly over-friendly or outrageous, and I’d like to bit more whole and complex, rounder and full.

Of course, it could be me who is prickly and not ready to share more at work, that would be another explanation. I am unhappy, but sometimes not all that unhappy with maintaining some distance between my work-life and the rest of my being.

I don’t know what goes on and I do believe climate change is needed and some warming of workplaces. Warmer, more welcoming, more accepting. In small ways I am becoming a climate change activist, a covert sort of activist creating little interventions. The trick being not to overheat anything.

I also work on ensuring my own internal micro-climate is tropical, innerwork.

I wanna hold your hand

The thing that most makes me furious around how Hedgehog is being treated and taken care of is how he is being disempowered by the best efforts of the workplace to try and fix him.

Hedgehog is entitled to better support less PANIC, and more effort to understand. Can’t he decide whether to work or not?

Let him decide his own course of treatment and action – trust him to make good choices…

I know how fear can drive reactions when someone confides an inner distress. Hero once told me he had lived enough. After Mottsu, the statement brought me to my knees, my legs just melted with the fear of loss… I panicked. I’m ashamed to say that my reaction that should have been about him was all about me.

I wasn’t very supportive with my overriding desire to help.

Downright unhelpful.

I like to think I would react differently now, and do what I should have done then, extend my hand – now that’s a gesture of support.

The identified patient

I rallied against a recent report that most people feel uncomfortable around people suffering depression. I also wrote about how to offer help to a troubled colleague. This week, in a workplace, I witnessed a situation that confirmed the first and showed why the second is good in theory but not how it may play out in reality.

In the workplace there is a busy hedgehog who is in a fog, hedgehog knows he is suffering anxiety and being in the fog he is not sure how to alleviate it. He has mentioned his stress and his struggle to contain it, to a number of people in the firm.

Some of his colleagues have panicked – and I mean PANICKED. Hedgehog is being pathologised (pathologise: transitive verb view as psychologically abnormal). There has been a slightly hysterical response to his admission of depression. He has been ordered home, banished from work, so much for his wishes should he wish to maintain any sense of normalcy. Hedgehog is being treated like an ailing child and pushed to do what others deem best for him. He’s now an invalid not an equal, no hand of support has been extended.

In this somewhat dysfunctional workplace hedgehog has become the identified patient. He is proof of how well others are coping, hedgehog is unwell and others are just ducky – thanks very much.

Take care, take care, use caution depressed and anxious employees as the people in your workplace may not be as ready for you as I would wish them to be.

His welfare is of my concern*

Offering help to a troubled colleague can be tricky territory. I hope that won’t hold you back from enquiring about the well-being of a colleague and being ready to extend your support.

The link above points to a recent article from the NY Times that provides some simple and practical advice. A couple of of points that resonated with me:

you should explain that you’re offering support, rather than judging or blaming
– keep in mind that you’re speaking as a concerned colleague not a therapist

Some will not want to talk about it (whatever ‘it’ is), still you can extend a friendly hand, lend an ear, or suggest other avenues of support.

I know you don’t know what to say.
No-one knows what to say.

Try something, say something, pick-up any feedback and adjust approach…

* Post title taken from the lyrics of He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother