Stories from South of Detroit

"Snap out of it" is not an option

Today is Bell Let's Talk Day. #BellLetsTalk

Now more than ever, it's important to talk about mental health.

Thanks to initiatives like Bell Let's Talk Day, mental illness has begun to emerge from the shadows of shame and secrecy. But the stigma still exists. Many stay silent out of fear. Fear of judgement, embarrassment, not being believed, being told to "buck up", "get over it" or "snap out of it. 

Since the advent of  COVID, suicide, drug overdoses and calls to help lines have all increased significantly. 

It takes guts to talk about mental illness. In a society that values resilience, productivity, independence and self-sufficiency, it's hard to admit when you just aren't able to cope.

As a person blessed with good mental health, I tend to take it for granted...almost like breathing. When I count my blessings, "good mental health" doesn't ever seem to make the list--although good physical health often does. I am always grateful to be able to see, hear, smell, taste, feel, walk and talk.     

I do know, care about and love people who have experienced mental illness or who live with it, day in and day out. 

For many years I have written about mental health and have been employed by organizations that work hard to help people overcome or manage mental health challenges. I have learned a lot about anxiety, depression, suicide, bi-polar disorder, schizophrenia and stigma.

I've learned I still have a lot to learn.

One lesson has been to respect depression. Clinical depression is complex and complicated. A clinically depressed person CANNOT "snap out of it" through sheer will or determination. As one friend said to me not long ago, "Believe me, if I could snap out of it, I would! I don't WANT to feel this way."

If someone loses a loved one, has been diagnosed with a serious illness or injury, is in constant emotional or physical pain or trapped in an abusive or other unhealthy, undesirable situation, it's not at all uncommon for that person to become depressed. I believe that depression caused by these factors is more easily understood by others. 

But if depression is a manifestation of mental illness, people can't "see". A person suffering from mental illness does not have a cast on their arm or any other obvious physical signs that they are unwell.

Part of my lesson learned was that advice--no matter how genuine and good natured--are not welcome. There's an etiquette involved when engaging with a person suffering from mental illness--and it takes a page from the book of golf etiquette: don't offer advice or suggestions unless asked. And even then, I now know I can expect to be told why my genuine and good natured advice won't help. 

Bottom line: Mental illness is not easy. 

That's why it's so important that we feel comfortable talking about it--whether we are experiencing it ourselves or want to help someone else.

All humans need to feel they are heard. The more we talk, the better chance we have of being heard. 

This year, Bell Let's Talk says "Every action counts". Please join the conversation on social media and help raise funds for mental health initiatives.

Because "snap out of it" is not an option.    

   

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

How many toxic bosses will it take?

When I began my first fulltime job back in 1976, it became obvious on my very first day that my new boss was toxic. They didn't use that word for bad bosses back then, but this woman's behaviour sure checked all the boxes. She yelled and screamed at me, called me stupid, hit me and threw something at me. All before lunch. 

Because I was young, inexperienced and afraid, I put up with it for almost two years. When I finally ripped up my time card into a million pieces, tossed them into the air and walked out for good, I swore I'd never work for someone like that ever again. 

Easier said than done. 

In my decades of employment, I've had more good bosses than bad--but sadly, my first toxic boss was not my last. 

This week, after a scathing independent review of her conduct as Governor General of Canada, former astronaut Julie Payette resigned.

This seems to have come as no surprise to anyone, not even Payette herself. During her short three-year tenure as GG, it became known that she left both her previous positions with the Montreal Science Centre and the Canadian Olympic Committee amid allegations of mistreating colleagues and subordinates. 

According to credible news sources, it appears the Prime Minister's Office did not consult Payette's former employers during the hiring process. Given the reluctance of all employers to give negative references out of fear of legal recrimination, it's not clear that even proper due diligence would have raised red flags--or if this knowledge would have prevented Payette's appointment as Governor General.

Multiple sources have told CBC News they were stunned by Trudeau's decision. 

"A number of us were blown away when she got appointed," said a former board member at the Canada Lands Company (CLC), the self-financing Crown corporation that owns and operates the Montreal Science Centre. Payette was vice president of CLC and chief operating officer of the Montreal Science Centre from 2013 to 2016.

It's hard to understand why toxic behaviour is not only tolerated--but celebrated--in today's workplaces. Television shows like Hell's Kitchen come to mind, where hothead, verbally abusive celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay just keeps on keepin' on. His cookbooks sell millions. His restaurants are always booked.

And yet, he's a giant asshole. Talented? Yes. But kind? Considerate? Fair? Approachable? Understanding? A big fat no to all five.

I don't care what anyone says about it all being an act. I'd bet a paycheque it's not.

The toxic boss has coloured many a comedic book, television or movie plot (The Devil Wears Prada, we're looking at you), but as anyone who has really toiled in a toxic workplace will attest, it's demoralizing, discouraging, debilitating and highly stressful. Funny? Not in the least.   

It's bad enough in the private sector, where toxic workplaces have existed for centuries.

And it's nothing new in the not-for-profit, political or public sectors either. True stories abound: after the CEO of a Canadian mental health charity was removed by the Board of Directors for fostering a toxic workplace, this individual then went on to contaminate a symphony and several other charitable organizations at the CEO level. For all I know, they're wreaking havoc on some poor, unfortunate employees somewhere.

A word to the wise: most organizations that enable toxic workplaces to thrive go to great lengths to justify keeping bad bosses. They get results. They make money. Somehow, that makes it okay if they treat people terribly.

Two of the most toxic bosses I ever worked for did not interview me personally or make the final hiring decision. In hindsight, I think this was strategic. It was well known by others in the organization that these bosses were bad. But by the time I figured it out, it was too late. I'd already quit my former job and started my new one. The thought of starting yet another job search and having to tell everyone that I was looking AGAIN--so soon--filled me with shame and dread. But if I'd met either of these bad bosses even for ten minutes, I'd have run from the interview room and never looked back. 

Trust me, now matter how badly you want or need a job, working for a toxic boss is just not worth it. It's not easy to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and find other work. At first, it seems easier to tell yourself that you'll change, you'll do better, you'll figure out how not to make them so mad. Trust me, you won't. Get out as soon as you can.

How many toxic bosses will it take before businesses finally get it? An eternally unanswered question.     

 

 

 

Reflections on Life During COVID

Little did I know that when January 2020 dawned, life would be so different come March. Up until then, COVID had been in the news for months; it had already ravaged Italy and was well on its way to ravaging New York City.

I started writing "COVID Chronicles" on Facebook, posting about the sights, sounds and situations that were emerging: long lineups outside stores, poor behaviour (cutting in lines, arguing to the point of fisticuffs with other human beings, masks discarded in parking lots and sidestreets all over town, etc.)

And then the judging started. Seems everyone and their mother was a COVID protocol expert, someone who knew more and better than I did. I stopped posting "COVID Chronicles" because I just couldn't stand the preaching and prosletising.

When the first lockdown in Windsor happened in early March, I was just about due for a hair cut and colour, as well as a gel nail manicure and regular pedicure. The salons and shops shut down. I watched a YouTube video on how to remove gel nails at home. It made it look so EASY! But suffice to say, the next YouTube video I thought I night need to look up was how to amputate your hands at home. I made such mess of my nails I wasn't sure they would ever recover. 

While several of my friends took the plunge and let their locks go grey during the lockdown, I discovered that this was not an option for me. My grey was not coming in in any sort of uniform pattern; it came in in random clumps here and there, reminding me of a Blue Merle collie. But hey, where was I going anyway?  Nowhere. Who was I seeing? No one, save for my Hubby, mom, sister, stepdaughter and two friends--all of whom have seen me in various stages of not-ready-for-primetime. 

This self-proclaimed Luddite was dragged kicking and screaming into COVID-inspired technology. First, the dreaded ZOOM call. Who in their right mind (and who isn't already a t.v. star) would want ANYONE to see them in shitty lighting through a shitty t.v. camera? Not me, thank you very much. I was able to get by not being on camera for a couple of work-related calls, and the Hallowe'en Zoom with my granddaughter was fine. But in general, I still don't understand why a good old fashioned regular phone call now just doesn't seem to cut it. 

And then, one night in Shoppers Drug Mart when I'd just gone in to pick up a prescription for Hubby, I decided I needed to buy a card. I picked up the prescription and picked out a card, and then saw that the lineup for the one solitary human cashier was more than 40 people long. The two "self checkouts" that had recently replaced two human cashier stations were empty. Hubby was waiting in the car, and it was dark and cold outside. So I did something I swore I would never do: I used a self checkout. It wasn't that difficult and it was sure better than waiting in line for God knows how long. 

Fortunately for me, FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) has never been my issue. So I didn't feel the need to find creative ways to socialize, party or bend " the rules". Yes, "the rules" seem complicated and ever-changing and inconsistent, but you know what? I got really sick, really fast of people making up their own rules and then claiming to be responsible and aware. As far as I know, the basic "rules" have not changed: don't gather in groups larger than 10 indoors, wear masks at all times, physical distance by at least 2 metres, use hand sanitizer or wash your hands religiously, don't  travel, don't intermingle households unless you live alone.

It has not been hard for me personally to follow "the rules" and trust me, I'm not a rule-follower by nature. But the ones making up their own rules bug me the most. If you're going to bend or break a "rule", for God's sake, go ahead and do it, but then just shut up. Don't try and justify to me why it's OK for YOU to do something different than what's recommended for everyone else.

As 2021 dawns, there is real hope because a vaccine is now being rolled out across the land. 

Until "herd immunity" kicks in, I hope humankind will just stick it out a little longer.