I try never to just say I’m fine. I always try to be as honest as I can. It costs me way too much to pretend, and I don’t get to see the best of people and find what I need. It also means I’m way less worried about how I come across, as I’m aligned with what I feel. It gives me a real sense of stability in myself and confidence just to really, truly try and stay as close to what’s inside me as possible. As a leader, I try to moderate what I share with different people in the business, as I also have an objective of keeping the ship steady. That doesn’t mean modelling perfection, but not all of my material would be useful to a team that needs a leader.
When we f*ck fine, we get closer.
1. It permits other people to drop the performance.
Most people are walking around managing how they’re perceived. One person telling the truth interrupts that. It softens the room. Suddenly, others don’t have to work so hard to be okay
2. It builds trust quickly
Authenticity signals safety, and when someone is real about where they’re at, it tells others, “you can be you”. That kind of clarity is what a real and meaningful connection is built on.
3. It shifts conversations from surface to substance.
“I’m not okay” always invites depth; it changes the quality of interaction from polite exchange to something that actually lands and opens space for us to be real.
4. It creates a culture of emotional responsibility.
When honesty is modelled, it becomes harder to keep outsourcing or bypassing feelings. It encourages people to own what’s going on for them, rather than deflect or numb.
5. It reminds people they’re not alone without even trying to.
You don’t have to fix anything. Just hearing someone articulate something real can make others feel seen in their own internal experience.
6. It redefines strength.
Strength stops looking like holding it all together, and starts looking like being honest about when you can’t. That shift is powerful; it creates a softness that allows us and others to lean in.
Mental Health Awareness Week has finally caught up and declared ‘action’ for the theme this year. How does that feel?
Honestly? About time. I’ve been saying for years that awareness without action is just noise. We’ve become very good at talking about mental health, posting about it, and making it pretty! signalling it, but not actually doing anything differently. So yes, it feels validating… but also very frustrating that it’s taken this long. Action is where the only real lasting change lives. Personally and culturally, awareness is just the first step. Words are cheap. Meaningful change comes when we do. Talking about it makes very little actually happen. So I’m hoping it’s not just more words but that we’ll see more progressive change.
What has been frustrating about ‘awareness’ over the years, what do you hope this year changes?
Awareness became comfortable. It’s allowed people to feel like they are engaging without actually having to change anything. You can repost something, agree with it, nod along, but your patterns, your behaviours, your coping mechanisms stay the same.
We have had a LOT of awareness over the last few years, in fact, we’ve seen mental health speak become very fashionable but we have not seen the dial shaft very far when it comes to stats on suicide rates for example and we are still having to push hard on the b2b market to make the data around ‘the cost of poor mental health’ on the work place. What I hope shifts this year is accountability. Less “I know this about myself” and more “I’m actually doing something about it, and this is what I’m doing.” That’s where the work really is. When we see more of this in ourselves and as individuals as a collective, we have more power and impetus towards change through action.
Why is action more important now than in previous years? What are you seeing in the room?
Because people are stuck, I’m seeing a lot of insight, people who know their patterns inside out, but they’re paralysed. Overthinking, burnout, anxiety loops, avoidance. Looking for media validation for their awareness, watching more stuff, ingesting more content and then not really knowing what to do with the awareness. How to move it to the next stage.
We’ve almost over-intellectualised mental health. People can name the problem beautifully, but they’re not moving, and without movement, nothing changes. Action interrupts that cycle. It doesn’t have to be big, but it has to happen. When people come to therapy for the first time, I think ‘YES, this is action’, this is you showing up for yourself in a tangible, slightly uncomfortable way, which will move you forward. When they say ‘I’m not sure exactly why I am here’, I say ‘but you are, and that in itself is excellent’
Why are small actions beneficial?
Because they’re doable and doable feels possible, being possible is reassuring and hopeful, and repeated small actions build momentum. Big change is built on small, repeated actions, not grand gestures. Small actions lower the barrier, reduce overwhelm, and crucially, they build trust in yourself. Every time you follow through, you’re proving to yourself that you can.
We all know what is good for us, so why don’t we do it?
Because knowing isn’t the same as doing. Doing so requires discomfort. It requires choosing something different to what feels familiar. We’re wired for ease, for habit, for staying in the known even when the known isn’t good for us. Change asks more of us than awareness ever will.
Why do we start but find it hard to keep going? What usually stops us?
We go too big, too fast. We expect immediate transformation, and when it doesn’t happen, we fall off. Perfectionism plays a huge role in all-or-nothing thinking. “If I can’t do it properly, what’s the point?” and then life gets in the way, motivation dips, and we interpret that as failure instead of something completely normal.
Consistency feels intimidating. Why is that?
Because we attach it to permanence. It feels like a lifelong commitment, and that’s overwhelming. Consistency also exposes us. It asks us to show up even when we don’t feel like it. That’s uncomfortable. Most of us are used to being driven by mood, not intention.
Is there another way of approaching this? Could we actually aim for inconsistency?
Yes, and I think we should. If you aim for perfection, you’ll stop. If you allow for inconsistency, you keep going. The goal isn’t to miss, it’s to return. That’s the work. That’s buoyancy. We need to normalise the wobble, not fear it.
How do you look after yourself?
I keep it simple, and I keep it honest. I don’t pretend I’ve got it nailed. I come back to the basics of sleep, movement, boundaries, and connection, and I notice when I’m avoiding the very things I know I need, I make myself do it. I don’t have to enjoy it, but I know I need to be in action.
What are your go-to small actions for you personally?
Getting outside, even when I don’t want to.
Sending the message instead of overthinking it.
Taking five minutes to pause rather than powering through.
Saying no when something doesn’t feel right.
Saying I don’t know when I don’t. Not trying to pretend I have all the answers.
Saying sorry when I’m wrong.
Leaning in closer, not leaning away, more often, even though it can feel hard and vulnerable.
Trying to be present, even for the difficult moments in life. Willing myself not to run away.
They’re not glamorous, but they work.
What are some of the most recommended small actions you share with clients?
Lower the bar. Always. Start before you feel ready. Name what’s actually going on instead of avoiding it. Interrupt the pattern even slightly, and most importantly, stop waiting to feel motivated. Action comes first, motivation follows.
But if it feels overwhelming, or if it feels bigger that one small step, you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here.