Why I’m no longer talking about “wellbeing”

Well, what a weird thing to say…

I mean, who doesn’t believe in wellbeing? Particularly at the moment, with reports of staff in professional services industries suffering due to overwork in lockdown.

I get it. And I do believe in looking after ourselves.

But increasingly I’ve come to believe that we’re talking in the wrong terms.

Because the problem with talking about ‘wellbeing’ in hard-working, driven industries is that it all sounds, well, a bit too ‘cuddly’. And possibly even a tad unrealistic.

Because when companies publicise well-meaning wellbeing initiatives whether it’s lunchtime yoga or Meditation Mondays, the risk is that it comes across as virtue signalling.

It sounds good from a marketing perspective but often the shiny veneer has little in common with the day to day reality of practice.

A bit like sticking a nice big fancy cherry on the top of a cake, whilst failing to realise that you forgot to make a properly structured sponge.

Big pants

To be fair, HR departments across the land have a tricky task on their hands in identifying initiatives that actually have an impact on staff’s ‘wellbeing’.

Because one unfortunate (but common) side-effect of such programmes is that, by trying to ease the pressure in one area, you simply divert it off somewhere elsewhere. The pressure of the workload, the clients, the targets doesn’t just cease to exist. It has to come out somewhere.

Forgive the analogy but anyone who’s ever worn those Bridget Jones-style stomach-holding in pants (I can neither confirm nor deny having done so) will know what I mean when I say that the squidgy bits don’t just disappear when you’re wearing the pants – the bulge just oozes out somewhere else.

It will always find a way.

It’s the same with wellbeing. So, often when firms try to enforce lunchtime breaks or no-weekend working, staff end up working later into the evenings.

If an organisation encourages employees to take their full holiday allowance and not checking emails while they’re off, they will find themselves working like a demon in the days leading up to and after said holiday to compensate. Then falling ill on holiday as they’re so exhausted.

Or if they are authorised to hand over the case to a colleague while they’re off, said colleague will become hopelessly overburdened, before chucking the case back (sometimes quite literally) at their colleague upon their return.

With all this in mind, what can organisations do to support staff in a way that has a lasting impact?

  1. Support your business

Ditch platitudes and shiny one-offs and invest in consistent external support for staff. I’m talking independent consulting, counselling, coaching and training from people who understand the business you’re in, preferably people who’ve worked in your industry themselves.

Call it business support not ‘wellbeing’.

Business support is at its best when it incorporates two elements; structural and pastoral.

Structural support is not just creating a wellbeing policy. It means looking at all of your organisation’s policies through the lens of wellbeing. And identifying new ones that are needed.

So develop policies that support staff in difficult situations. Like a vulnerable clients’ policy. So when a client talks and/or behaves in a way that causes alarm to the lawyer (as they have, sadly, on many occasions in lockdown), that lawyer has a clear step by step guide of how to respond and sign-posting to other professionals who can help.

Develop a client relationship template with clear-cut guidelines on where the boundaries lie when clients behave unacceptably towards their advisors. At what point is it OK for the advisor to say no to the client or to tell them that their behaviour is inappropriate? Give examples of how to address such issues.

Secondly, pastoral support. This should be ongoing if possible. With an independent therapeutic professional. You need someone who has no ‘skin in the game’, who keeps confidentiality and who has no responsibility or involvement in management or promotion decisions. This is key.

  1. Watch your language!

Sorry for sounding like someone’s grandmother. But seriously, please no more references to ‘soft skills’ training.

There’s long been a snobbery in law and other industries about training that covers anything outside of the mainstream nuts and bolts of the job (or what in the legal profession we call ‘black letter law’).

This is an unfortunate side effect of working in time-pressured industries which prize left-brain analytical thinking over the right-brain’s focus on relationships and emotions. We start to view anything that is not chargeable and directly linked to the ‘bottom line’ as a waste of time.

But these skills that we refer to as ‘soft’ (think negotiation, persuasion, empathy, management skills) are anything but. What we’re actually talking about are hard skills for delicate situations.

Because if these skills were actually ‘soft’, then everything would be using them. But they’re not.

Delivered well, such training can ward off burn-out, demonstrating clever ways of dealing with intractable situations, of breaking through difficulties in working relationships. So, we can start to develop flexibility of thought patterns and creativity when such situations arise rather than just digging our heels in and issuing ultimatums.

  1. Watch your language pt 2 or ‘The F Word’

Back when I was in practice, euphemisms such as ‘robust’ and ‘broad-shouldered’ were commonly bandied about to describe those who didn’t appear to get emotionally affected by the work. This was considered to be an asset.

Of course, I understand that it’s important to have a professional advisor who is not going to bring their personal feelings and issues up in front of clients. But, I believe that prizing apparent ‘robustness’ has gone too far to the extent that we’ve glamourised dissociation or emotional avoidance.

Can we all finally just admit that we all get emotionally affected by our work. Whether we show it visibly or not. Whether we go home and drink to forget. Or run 10 miles a day. Or eat a chocolate cake. All of us have coping mechanisms. And none of us are without vices.

Not showing any feelings about your job in the workplace is not a sign of resilience. It’s a sign of being cut off from your feelings. And that’s not a good thing.

  1. Power and passivity

One of the curious things about life in professional services industries is that, even though, from the outside they appear to be status-driven, assertive professions, on the inside people can often be curiously passive.

So, advisors find it hard to say no or to have boundaries with clients for fear of losing business.

Issues with the work of team members aren’t raised until appraisal/review time, by which point it’s become a major issue that the team member wasn’t aware of.

These nerves about broaching difficult subjects results in ‘hot potatoes’ being passed around; it’s often common knowledge that there is a team member who is difficult to work with or who is not quite performing. But no one wants to address the subject. And if it is addressed, there’s often no follow-up, no bite if that person doesn’t change, particularly if that person is, for example, a big biller for the firm.

And this indirectness has a trickle-down effect. Because if juniors don’t see the seniors addressing tricky subjects directly, they certainly aren’t going to feel that they can. So they don’t raise issues, often for fear of being labelled ‘too sensitive’ or not a ‘team player’.


So, how to ‘de-fluff’?

This is no longer about well-being. This is about business support.

This is about everyone getting firmer about their boundaries.

And, more than anything, it’s about matching what you say with what you do.

We don’t need more slogans. We need appropriate business support to run through our professions like a stick of rock.

The Carvalho Consultancy provides training and support for law firms and chambers. If you’d like to talk to someone about this, do get in touch at



Are relationship ‘MOTs’ the future?

A couple came to see me a year or so ago. They appeared in different Zoom windows because they were in separate houses. A few weeks earlier she had moved out.

Communication between them had broken down. They hadn’t been arguing but had not been “connecting” in the way she thought a married couple should. In the end, she decided enough was enough and left.

How long had the problems been going on, I asked. About a year, he said. About two years, she said.

They had three teenage children. How were they taking the separation, I asked.

I don’t know, she said; they’re not giving much away. Well I don’t think they would want us to be apart, he said.  But I think they’d want us to be happy.

It was a sad, low-key meeting. Neither of them shouted. Neither showed frustration. Neither shed tears. It was a relationship that hit the doldrums, then drifted toward danger and was now close to the rocks.

Last-chance saloon

Why didn’t they come to counselling two years ago?

Probably it didn’t occur to them. After all, things were not disastrous.

They co-existed in the same house, not enjoying each other’s company much. But getting on with their busy jobs and doing a ‘good-enough’ job bringing up the children.

There was no crisis to make them sit up and think: we’ve got to do something about this before it’s too late.

The drift

It’s a pattern that we see over and over again in the counselling room.

And lockdown has resulted in even more people continuing to live with someone from whom they’ve become increasingly emotionally distant without seeking outside support.

Sadly, for many this has created a ‘cold war’ type atmosphere with couples running separate households and living lives isolated from each other, despite residing in the same house.

And we’ve all seen the figures showing a disturbing rise in domestic violence and abuse situations in lockdown. This illustrates that many are living in dreadful circumstances.

Essential maintenance or emergency service?

So why is it that we don’t regard couples counselling as a standard maintenance cost necessary for the upkeep of our relationships?

Why do we treat such support as an emergency service to call on only when things get really tough?

We talk a lot these days about how mental health is as important as physical health. But are we just paying lip service to it?

Because we still don’t see emotional ‘check-ups’ as as important as physical ones. Particularly when it comes to our relationships.

A new pair of glasses

Part of the issue is that it’s quite tricky to explain precisely what couples counselling gives you.

How eye-opening it can be to have an independent person in the room commenting on the dynamics between you and your other half.

The added clarity and objectivity it gives. To see your partner through someone else’s lens and you hear them say words you’ve probably heard them utter a thousand times but suddenly with a new perspective.

And the feeling of being seen by someone. Your feelings being given weight and meaning without the veil of years of history that distorts our partner’s perspective of us

Hammers and chisels

One damaging implication of the lack of upkeep of our relationships is that, when they do break down, people use tools to deal with it that aren’t fit for purpose.

They may well go straight to a lawyer rather than a therapeutic professional. Unfortunately, their resentments may be so entrenched by that stage that they take a more aggressive approach than is appropriate. They (wrongly) believe that a forceful approach will relieve their distress.

Because (although it may sound counter-intuitive), taking a purely legal approach to relationship breakdown is like using a hammer when actually a chisel is required.

This is what the 2020 Family Solutions Group report ‘What About Me?’ would describe as an excessively ‘justice’-driven response to relationship breakdown.

Any family practitioner worth their salt will tell you that getting fixated on ‘justice’ or ‘fairness’ is unhelpful in matters relating to children. Far better to take an approach geared to encouraging co-operative parenting.

The right kind of support is crucial for that. Ideally a holistic approach taken that incorporates law and psychology. And which uses tools such as mediation, collaborative law and which involves therapeutic professionals.

End-stage culture

One of the problems is that there is no government department in England dedicated to family and children unlike Wales.

This is not helpful, particularly when you consider Australia who have their Relationship Centres where couples and families can access support, be it counselling, mediation or other resources at all stages of a relationship.

Consideration for relationships and communities appears to be embedded in the fabric of Australian society in a way that it isn’t over here.

We appear to put our relationships to the bottom of the list. Letting them trundle along, yet still expecting them to survive if not thrive.

What to do?

The Family Solutions Group report recommended that Family & Relationship Hubs should be widely available to provide holistic support for separating couples.

But why not have a service that sees people at all stages of their relationship rather than just at the end stage?

At present, many couples only decide to seek help when problems are too painful to bear. That makes it more difficult to repair the relationship than if you catch the problems before they harden into habitual behaviour.

There’s momentum amongst family practitioners to improve and diversify how we help separating couples and families at the moment. So let’s extend this support to earlier on in relationships.

Let’s make it the norm for couples to actively maintain their relationship health just as they would water a plant regularly.

Because if this last year has shown us anything, it’s that our relationships are everything.

If you’d like a free no-obligation discussion about counselling or training at The Carvalho Consultancy, just get in touch using the form below or on

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Are you addicted to work?

Last month I had some bad news. I heard first thing in the morning. I had a big cry. I considered crawling under my duvet. Then I slapped some make up on my face and got on with my (busy) work day. 

If this sounds a bit cold hearted or that I am one of those people who is weirdly able to compartmentalise emotions, I can assure you I’m definitely not. Anyone who knows me will tell you that lack of feelings has never been my thing; quite the opposite.

But I knew that the thing that would help me the most at that moment was to get stuck into work.

There was time later for more tears and chatting about it with others. All that processing stuff that therapists like me are so keen on. 

But, then and there, work was a bit of a haven.

The sanctuary of work

Work, at its best, makes us feel useful and connected to others. And that’s a gift when things happen in your life that make you feel powerless and a bit bereft. And taking the focus off your own life and putting it on something else is a good way to experience that ‘flow’ of being totally in the moment. 

Of course, there are times that are so difficult and all-consuming that work is the last thing on your mind. And when it’s impossible to concentrate. But at other points it can be a healthy sanctuary while your ‘life stuff’ is working itself out in the background. 

But how do we gauge at what point ‘escaping’ into work becomes unhealthy? How do we know if we’re overly attached or even (whisper it) addicted to what we do for a living? 

High achieving or work addicted?

Work addiction is what doctor and addictions specialist Gabor Mate describes as a ‘process addiction’ rather than the more commonly recognised substance addictions. But the truth is, it doesn’t really matter what the particular process or substance is. What matters is the common denominators that all addictions share – compulsivity, dependence and self-defeating behaviour. 

And therein lies the reason why work addiction is a bit tricky to identify. Because the compulsivity lurks underneath a polished veneer of high functioning success. It takes a long time to identify anything self-defeating about the behaviour…if you ever do.

It’s socially acceptable and a virtue to be a hard worker, isn’t it?

And why would this be a problem in professions like law and others where extra time working is seen as a badge of honour?  

‘Insecure overachievers’

Professor Laura Empson describes lawyers and other professionals as ‘insecure overachievers’. And many of us do have fairly brittle self-esteem (I speak from experience!). Attaching our self-esteem to external recognition comes as naturally to us as crazed ranting does to certain politicians… Because we learnt it from an early age.

If you grow up as the ‘bright kid’ at school, your sense of contentment becomes rapidly dependent on coming first in the class and getting 100% in the exam. Nothing else feels good enough. 

The perfect storm occurs when the driven, perfectionistic young person meets the goal-orientated, hyper-diligent career of law. And the uncertainties and ambiguities of working with clients.  Whether we feel OK about ourselves or not becomes dependent on whether our clients are satisfied with us (regardless of how unrealistic the expectations).

And client contentment is a much more uncertain bar to reach than good exam grades. Our self-esteem gets attached to what they think, what our bosses think, whether we get the promotion, whether we meet our chargeable hours’ target. That’s a lot of plates to keep spinning.

Left brain, runaway train

Left-brain orientated careers also have innately addictive qualities. In training to become a lawyer, for example, we develop and enhance analytical, methodical and linear ways of thinking. All left-brain traits.

But it’s a bit like a runaway train, the left brain – once it has become engaged and has started on its path it is not good at knowing when to stop. That’s what makes us good at persevering with complicated, immersive tasks until we find a solution. But, on the flipside, it’s also means we can become overanalytical, hyper-vigilant and obsessed with to-do lists, even in in our personal lives. 

The left brain is also not very good at linking up with the right side of the brain, associated with feelings and physicality. We need that right brain to be activated to balance out all the intellectualising with the emotional, the physical and the spiritual. We need creativity and we need play.  

On the clock

Time recording systems also play into the slightly addictive nature that many driven ‘high achievers’ have. I remember, as a solicitor, being pretty much constantly aware of that little clock on the screen. Whether the clock turned green or red indicated to me whether I’d ‘succeeded’ or ‘failed’ on any given day.

Our brains get a dopamine hit if we record lots of hours and meeting or exceed our targets and chasing that high can be incredibly addictive.  

So what can we do?

Firstly, work out if it’s a problem for you. Ask yourself whether you regularly engage in ‘compulsive work, worry or activity’ as Workaholics Anonymous would put it. And has your work life contaminated your home life such that it’s causing you problems there? 

Secondly, if the answer to the above questions is ‘yes’ then create a space to think about it.

Consider what’s driving you to constantly seek that feeling of achievement. And why it’s difficult to sit still and find contentment in yourself without the benefit of external recognition.

Don’t put yourself under pressure to immediately solve the problem.  But think about trying Workaholics Anonymous or therapy. 

Careers in law and other ‘status’ professions often remind me of those ‘monkey rings’ we used to swing on in PE classes at school. There’s that feeling that you constantly have to be in forward motion – you can’t hang off one ring for too on long; you have to keep on moving forward. But remember that sometimes it’s OK to just hang for a while or even to fall – often that’s how we find out what we’re really made of. 

If you’d like to talk to someone about your relationship with work, do get in touch at or


Leading Professionals, Power, Politics and Prima Donnas – Laura Empson, 2017, OUP Oxford

In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts – Gabor Mate, Vermilion, 2018

It’s about more than the cardies

The legal world was rocked last week (OK, slight exaggeration) by what is now known as ‘Vardie cardie gate’ (or ‘Vardigan gate’, to use its formal name). An email written by well-known family law firm owner Ayesha Vardag was leaked to the press, in which she berated staff for wearing cardigans or ‘winter woolies’ that would look more in place round a fire than on high flying lawyers. She also condemned other sartorial no-no’s such as ‘super-tight trousers’ and pointy or brown shoes (‘no brown in town’)

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