I was 19 when I attended my very first office Christmas party. I was in my first, grown-up, proper full-time job as a junior writer for Australia’s Dolly magazine. The boss bought everyone a little joke present that said something about their personality. Mine? A big bottle of fizzy antacid drink. I wasn’t out of my teens when my reputation was cemented as a 24 carat ‘stress head’.
Worrying is my gold medal event. It’s quite a burden at times, but I think it’s also why I’ve been successful. I worry about, and fear, failure and humiliation. This motivates me in my working life. I’ve had a lot of therapy to try and get it under control and I’m better than I used to be. But this is who I am and it’s why, on occasion, I’ve read emails that were sent to me in error that say things like, ‘Jo’s having a meltdown about that fashion page. Scary.’
I’m not as bad as I used to be although I can still have my moments. In fact, only two weeks ago, several colleagues at Palace Confidential, a show I host for the Mail, saw me lose the plot, big time.
I’d been coping, and coping and coping, with a setback in my job as a charity CEO. I’d been let down badly by someone in a way that threatened to see us lose out on a significant donation. I’d been worried about it, to the point where I was waking up in the middle of the night and obsessing about it. How could I solve this problem? What new angle could I try first thing the next day? Who hadn’t I yet phoned, in this frantic quest for help and advice?
To quote a favourite phrase of my dad’s, I deployed the ‘head down, bum up’ approach to dealing with stress: that is work, work, work, in the hope that somehow the frenzy of labour will reward me with a solution.
I’d had about two weeks of focusing almost exclusively on this issue, when, while I was getting ready to film the Palace show, a text about another problem pinged through on my phone. This second problem was not a big deal. Annoying, yes, but a mere piddling trifle compared to this big, donation hole problem. But it did the job of making me snap. The fortnight of intense pressure I’d been congratulating myself for swallowing down on and handling, the two weeks of tears that had threatened but never did spill out - it all poured out of me in a nano second. With a bonus big ol’ door slam in front of two of my colleagues thrown in for good measure.
Maybe it’s the stress of taking on a new challenge that’s out of my comfort zone, with a steep learning curve. I know I definitely feel the weight of the responsibility - I need to raise money for children with cancer, and that’s a little bit more important than beating Elle magazine to get the first Ariana Grande cover. Maybe that Twitter troll from a few weeks ago - the one who spent days coming at me with her absolute conviction that I will suck at this job - got to more than I realised. I can’t fully explain it. Or excuse it. But apparently I needed that embarrassing door slam and a little cry. The last time work had made me cry was in 2017 when I had to tell the whole Glamour team they no longer had jobs.
That stressful dilemma continued to be so for another week and a half when suddenly a miracle solution was presented, out of the blue. So while all the work the team and I put into trying to solve the problem wasn’t that successful, I like to think the universe really recognised that it was about damn time to throw us a bone.
I was, of course, so embarrassed about my stress getting on top of me in that moment. But I have to say, I felt SO much better - physically and mentally - once I’d had the outburst. I even managed to laugh at myself, thinking, ‘Come on, there is always a solution, you don’t have to over-react and look like a dickhead.’ It gave me back my perspective. It was a mortifying route to it but I’d still recommend the occasional venting of rage - though perhaps next time I’ll try to make sure it’s in private.
That aside, I do have some more zen and wise sounding strategies for coping with stress.
But first, may I plead that we can agree: stress is relative. I know that I am not in a war zone - I often tell myself this when I’m about to hyperventilate over some worry or another. And right now, I have friends who are coping with way more trauma than I’ve ever known. But even one of those friends recently said to me, ‘I don’t think I should get to win the Shit Olympics every day.’ The point being: Everyone is entitled to feel stressed by their stress, even if you’re quietly thinking that stress is not worth stressing about. If you’re nailed to the house with a newborn, for instance, and existing on two hours sleep a night, it’s probably not easy to listen to that mate who’s super-stressed by all the international work travel clogging up their diary.
But telling someone they have no business being stressed, about whatever it is, is a spectacularly brilliant way of adding to their stress. So I’d like to think we can keep judgement out of this conversation and just share our tips on how to cope when it feels like life is really pissing on our chips.
Here’s some things I do.
I share.
Depending on what it is it can sometimes take me a while to have the courage to be vulnerable enough to tell someone I need help. But the second I do, it immediately helps to deflate the problem to at least half its size. Most people you trust, who like you and even love you, want to help. Ask for help. And if I just happen to be having an absolutely awful day, for whatever reason, I text my whatsapp groups demanding jokes, memes or handsome pictures of BTS. Hey, whatever works.
I tackle the worst, most stressful thing first.
That conversation you don’t want to have, that envelope you’re scared to open, that speech you can’t quite nail the contents of. Throw yourself into the thing that is really making you feel like you’re going to vomit. Because you’ll feel great when you’ve confronted the evil thing and nothing for the rest of that day, maybe even that week or that month, will be as anxiety-inducing. The only way over it is through it and all that. Just do it.
I prioritise myself.
It’s probably because I’m a hypochondriac (told you I like worrying) but I do my best to look after myself in the same way I would for those I care about around me. Because if I’m in a bad state I’ll be useless to everyone. I’d choose being late over skipping breakfast, for instance. I diarise exercise. I also make sure I have things in my diary that I can look forward to. Even just seeing something I’m looking forward to in two or three weeks has a positive impact on how I feel about any current stress. It’s not selfish to make sure you’re looked after. In fact I think in a way it’s selfish to not look after yourself because an ill, run-down, malfunctioning you means you’re less able to show up for those who rely on you.
I make time for friends.
In our busy lives that are absolutely rammed with commitments, this can be the hardest thing to do. But I’d be a mess if I didn’t have dates with my friends who really make me laugh and help me switch off and talk about so many other things besides the things that are stressing me out. I hope I bring as much joy to them as they do to me. I try to, anyway, and the delightful thing is that often buoys my mood too.
I ensure I’m the boss of my diary, not the other way round.
It’s not always easy, I know, but over the years I have become very firm about my diary having limits. I know I’m in a state of collapse if I have more than two evening commitments in a working week. I know I need time in a busy working day to just be able to chat to people in the office, to just… sit and think and have ideas. And sometimes, damn it, I need to get some air and take a walk. So I’m strict about not letting anyone put a meeting in my diary just because they’ve found a gap. I make sure that my working days have a structure where there’s meetings and other commitments but breaks in between.
I do this breathing technique.
I think it’s a yoga thing, I don’t know the name for it, but it works. You take a long, deep breath in through your nose and slowly count to five as you do it. Hold it, than slowly exhale to a count of seven. Do that a few times. It has the amazing effect of calming your whole body. I probably should have thought to do this on my last meltdown day but sometimes the body just wants what it wants and that day it wasn’t calm gentle breathing.
I take naps.
My husband Ross is astounded by how much I can sleep. A Saturday afternoon nap, for an hour and a half or so, is restorative and I can’t see me ever giving it up. I had many years when our daughter was small when it wasn’t possible. Now though… heaven.
Let me know what you do, I’m always keen to learn how to avoid any more door slams!
I think you are slaying this life, Jo, and having a meltdown once in a while is part of what keeps things interesting. Beyond that, though, being brave and humble enough to share those moments with the world, so that the rest of us who are inspired and encouraged by you can feel like we can also be vulnerable little bunnies (or raging sob machines) on occasion, is a wonderful gift to humanity. Thank you!
You have all the best strategies. Add wait it out until you’re clear on your direction. Focus on short term stuff like meals, walks, books to read.