social media

When I’m 94…(to the tune of When I’m 64 by the Beatles)

When the NHS was created in 1948, 64 was considered elderly. Both my grandfathers died during the 1940s aged 50 from what we now know to have been smoking related illnesses, having served in the WW1 trenches. My maternal grandmother died aged 65. My other grandma managed to last a bit longer; she died in December 1982 aged 79. 3 out of 4 died in their own beds at home.

I was born in 1955, a child of the NHS. I have worked in it since aged 18. The NHS was set up to improve the extremely poor health of the nation after World War 2, with clinics providing advice and free milk, vitamins, orange juice and cod liver oil, as well as weighing and measuring children, hearing and eye tests, free dentistry, and checking for lice, nits, scabies and rickets. A mass free screening and vaccination programme began for common killer diseases such as smallpox, diptheria, tetanus, polio and TB. Going to the clinic with my mother and younger brothers was fascinating and memorable. Providing care free at the point of delivery to people who were sick or injured was a massive bonus for the public, but its wasn’t intended to be the main aim of the new NHS.

Despite these wonderful founding principles, the NHS quickly began to increase its focus on treating sickness. The status of hospital medicine has always been greater than public health or primary care; this continues today. Radical health promotion initiatives such as the Peckham Experiment sadly closed down before they had a chance to prove themselves.

I trained as a health visitor in 1978, having been inspired during my hospital nurse training – in 1975 I went out for the day with the local health visitor. As well as admiring her cream Morris Traveller and adorable spaniel puppy, I will never forget one visit. In a tiny cottage in a village outside Cambridge, we called on an elderly lady. I remembered her in hospital after a massive stroke, lying with her face turned to the wall. Back home, despite needing two sticks and very limited speech, she ushered us into her cosy kitchen, all smiles, and made us tea and biscuits while her cat snoozed on the sunny windowsill.

Community services (those outside hospital that either help people to stay healthy or look after them at home when they are ill or dying) and mental health services have always been the Cinderellas of the NHS. Never more so than in the last few years, when they have experienced unprecedented cuts in order for commissioners to continue to pay for increasingly sophisticated physical hospital interventions.

Today I have a lovely gig: joining 100 or so folk from the NHS and social care system in Kent, Surrey and Sussex, all of whom want to improve care for older people. It is organised by the KSS Academic Health Science Network. Life expectancy in Kent, Surrey and Sussex is the highest in the UK. Were it not for pockets of significant deprivation along the Kent and Sussex coast, and the appalling fact that people with serious mental illness live 20 years less than the population average (25 years less than the KSS average), it would be even higher. It is common for acute hospital wards to be entirely populated by people in their mid 90s and above. The people attending the event know things have to change. Medicalising old age is cruel as well as extremely costly.

It is, fortuitously, Dementia Awareness Week and Dying Matters Awareness Week. I know from the research of my brilliant ex-colleague Professor Sube Banerjee that only 18% of people who have dementia only have dementia. The majority have between 2 and 7 other significant health conditions that seriously affect their lives. The way we run the NHS is simply not serving their needs, despite very elderly people being its majority users. I also know from the wonderful work of organisations such Dying Matters that these days, most people die in hospital despite very much preferring to be cared for at home.

Today, we will be encouraging the people at the event to face this enormous challenge together. We have to do things differently. It says so in the Five Year Forward View. The attendees at this event are to some extent, like those involved in the vanguard sites across the country, the converted. But even they will have to throw away beloved ideas and think the unthinkable.

I am indebted to @HannahTizard on Twitter for this lovely infographic about tall poppies.

Tall poppies may experience meanness from others because they are full of ideas and are not afraid to challenge the status quo. They are always thinking about how to do things better and are not prepared to accept mediocrity, especially when it harms others.

I will be using this lovely infographic today to encourage the people at the event, who I think of already as tall poppies, and giving them a link to this blog so they have a reference to keep.

I hope you find it helpful too. Please be a tall poppy; challenge the status quo if you think the care you provide or commission isn’t what you think you would want yourself when you are 94 or even older. And do something right now to start making things better for every elderly person who wants fewer tubes up their bottom and down their throat, and more time to enjoy their latter days with somebody kind to sit with them, help them to have a drink and hold their hand.

Meanwhile, as I intend to live until at least 94, I’m off to read Sod 70! by the indomitable Dr Muir Gray, to help me continue to treat my body hard but well, and How to Age by Anne Karpf, from the School of Life series, to help me manage my (sometimes fragile) psyche and approach old age with equanimity and joy.

Do please join me.

Post script: 11 hours after posting this, I’ve already had lots of feedback. One person feels I’m generalising and that the research quoted doesn’t support my view that older people would prefer to avoid unnecessary investigations. I agree that we must ask people and really listen carefully to their answer before subjecting them to invasive tests. Over 100 seem to like it so far.

I’ve also realised that I’ve been channelling the #HulloOurAimIs campaign from NHS Change Day led by my lovely Twitter and real life chum Alex Silverstein @AlexYLDiabetes. So I wanted to mention it. Alex is the tallest of poppies and despite being less than half my age, has taught me loads. Go Alex and thank you xxx

Are you feeling sad about the election?

The exit polls turned out to be right. And whilst Conservative and Scottish Nationalist supporters are ebullient, I’ve lost count of the number of people who have remarked on social media that they feel really depressed.

For the majority saying this, the feeling they are experiencing isn’t depression in any clinical sense. It is disappointment, sadness and loss. It is a normal grief reaction to something shocking and unexpected, which dashes hopes for the future. And it re-introduces and even expands fears that people who were hoping for a better result for Labour, the Lib Dems, the Greens and even UKIP had overcome, albeit just for a short while.

The five stages of grief model described by Dr Elizabeth Kubler-Ross was not intended to be prescriptive. It was an extremely well-received description of how people who are terminally ill get used to the idea of their own impending death. The stages of grief described are Shock, Denial, Bargaining, Anger, and Depression, better described perhaps as deep sadness. This, in time, leads to Accommodation/Acceptance. Depending on the nature of one’s loss, grief has to run its course. It is possible to get stuck at any stage, and for stages to have to be repeated. Trying to avoid the anger or sadness phases by keeping busy and pretending to be OK can be psychologically damaging; I have form on this myself.

There will be people today who will undoubtedly be at the start of a significant grief cycle, including the 3 party leaders who have resigned, those who have lost their livelihoods, and those closest to them. For the majority of the population, though, the cycle will pass quite quickly.

Some people are already into the angry phase; this is can be when blame gets sprayed about and bad decisions made. It is a time when we are advised not to make big decisions.

It is also important not to get stuck at the anger phase. Those who have learned to attribute responsibility for bad things that happen to them to others can waste huge amounts of energy re-traumatising themselves and failing to realise their own power to effect positive change.

Some people who experience mental illness get annoyed about the misuse of the term depression to describe feelings they see as relatively trivial compared to the self-hatred and hopelessness of clinical depression. I used to be one of them, but these days I am less fussed. As long as people understand that one word can have many meanings, I am more than happy to share it. But I do want everyone to understand that there are no such things as happy-pills. If you aren’t clinically depressed, anti-depressants won’t make things better. Only you can do that, by getting to know yourself, and being kind and compassionate to yourself and to others.

It is tough advice, but as Maya Angelou said:

If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.

The brilliant thing about our democratic system, apart of course from actually having one, is that MPs may only be elected by some of their constituents. But they are there to represent all of them. Occasionally they just need reminding.

I’m consoling myself about the the loss of the rainbow coalition I fondly imagined by thinking how to keep mental health on the agenda of the Conservative government, as they promised us during their election campaign. We have to make the business argument that investment in mental health treatment and support saves money in the long run. As well as the compassionate one about saving lives and making those lives worth living.

It is wonderful that there are millions of us who care enough to do the same.

Please take care, Twitter can be cruel

I love Twitter. But it can be a cruel place. Personal attacks and even threats of death are not uncommon. Sue Perkins and Jack Monroe are the latest high profile quitters following unrelated horridness – in Sue’s case, she was attacked for being (wrongly) tipped as Jeremy Clarkson’s replacement on Top Gear. Jack’s was about supporting the Greens on the election. Death threats for this? There are no words.

I’m nowhere near their league, but I’ve had my share of online nastiness, and it continues. It can be overwhelming when you are under an onslaught from many directions. And unless you reply and risk even worse, other more measured folk won’t know what’s happening, because the vile stuff won’t appear in their time line.

I am of the “Whatever we wear and wherever we go, Yes means Yes and No means No” generation. I don’t see why bullies should frighten us away from places that belong to us all. But I’m also concerned for my own wellbeing and that of others.

It is good that Twitter are cracking down on abuse – better late than never. Meanwhile, here are my tips for staying emotionally safe and still getting the best from Twitter.

Be yourself but think really carefully about how much you share. Social media is still a relatively new medium. Some are already regretting earlier openness. I’m thinking particularly of people like me who experience mental illness from time to time. Talking with others who have similar experiences really helps, because with diseases of the mind, unchecked irrational thoughts about ourselves can snowball and be really bad for us. But sharing also makes us vulnerable. Only a handful of people have accused me of psychological weakness, attention seeking or of using my depression as an excuse for past failings. Even fewer have defaced my image, called me vile names, and traduced my appearance, intelligence, morals, motivations and career. I have forgiven but I cannot forget their words. On a bad day, I imagine that others may feel the same way about me. On a really bad day, I may even agree with some of this shit. So please, take care.
Be wary of individual tweeters who follow few people themselves. They may say interesting stuff, but they are unlikely to be interested in an online conversation with you. Maybe you don’t mind just reading their views? It’s a good way to start, especially if you are shy. But most of us are on social media because we want to exchange thoughts, share experiences and ideas.
Don’t just follow those you know you will agree with. It might feel cosy to be in a cocoon of like – minded folk, but it won’t stimulate or enlighten. If it weren’t for Twitter, we wouldn’t know the odious extent of the views of, say, Katie Hopkins on people seeking asylum. What better spur to get the previously disaffected to vote than the thought of people like Hopkins (who always vote, by the way – they know their rights) getting more of a say than us non neo-Nazis? We need to know these things.
Take the plunge and join in conversations when you haven’t got a view or are still making up your mind. Some people think that being open – minded, even undecided, is feeble or wishy-washy. I disagree. Just be sure that when you in one of these discussions, everyone is treated with politeness, including you. Be prepared to walk away if that doesn’t happen.
Join in with conversations that are happening at the time you are actually on Twitter. Prepare yourself so you don’t feel too hurt if people whose views you admire don’t respond. Just move on and chat to someone else. Don’t assume people are being rude; they might be but that really isn’t your problem. Easier said than done when you desperately want a reply, I know!
Try not to get involved in those angry ding-dongs where an increasing number of @names get added, until in the end there is no space to say anything. If you get copied in, these are best ignored, in my experience.
Don’t be heavy – handed with the Block button. Some people collect blocks like trophies, and will proudly list you as a person who lacks empathy along with others you may prefer not to be associated with. And you won’t know about this if you have blocked them. Save blocking for porn sites, annoying bots and people who are genuinely harassing you. And for the latter, do also report them. Twitter are rightly upping their game in dealing with online harassment. If you are being repeatedly harassed by someone, you may also need to check if they have other profiles. In my experience, these are relatively easy to spot. And do also report them to the police. They definitely do take action when serious threats are made.
My thoughts here are aimed at people like me who are able to tweet as individuals. The freedom we enjoy compared to those in public positions cannot be underestimated. I’ve been in one of those jobs, and written about use of Twitter from that perspective here. It is great if such people can share something personal of themselves, but it is a big ask, given what can happen and the impacts. Which leads me to my final point.
Don’t rush to judgement of others. No-one knows what it’s like to sit where they are sitting, other than they themselves. Be kind, always. Never, ever make remarks like James May did recently about those who made death threats towards Sue Perkins. He only made a bad situation worse. If you can’t be kind, walk politely but firmly away.

I’ve blogged in the past about forgiveness. If you haven’t seen it and are interested, here it is.

I’m still practising by the way.

I think we are pretty amazing

I didn’t sleep much last night. I’d agreed to go on the Today programme at 07.40 to give my perspective on this week’s coverage of the terrible plane crash in the Alps, particularly the implications that it was caused by someone with depression.

I only came out about my own experiences of depression a year and a half ago, even though it has come – and gone – since I was 15. I’m not unusual; 75% of mental illnesses start before the age of 18. I’m also not unusual to be shy about sharing. There is still massive stigma. Including self-stigma, in which I am an expert.

Very gradually, things have become easier for the 1:4 people who experience mental illness, through campaigns such as Time to Change. Or so we thought.

I’m not going to repeat how disgracefully the majority of the print and even broadcast media have behaved this week. Others including Matt Haig, my 17 year old Twitter friend Stella and Stephanie Boland have done so much better than me.

And deepest thanks to Paul Farmer, CE of Mind, Sue Baker, Director of Time to Change and Professor Sir Simon Wessely, President of the Royal College of Psychiatrists for being so quick off the mark and setting the record straight. They have done a stunning job.

What I want to say is that, every time I have an opportunity to speak about the stigma that still affects people like me, I feel a little more nervous. It is an increasingly heavy burden of responsibility. For some, the impact of their mental illness means they lack the voice and opportunity to speak for themselves. They have to rely on others. And that means those of us who can must act with great sensitivity and respect. Including towards those who have lost someone to suicide, anorexia or lack of self-care.

Mental illnesses, by definition, mess with your head. They make you believe horrible, negative things about yourself, question your worth and the very point of your existence, and cause you to feel hopeless about the future. In some cases, people lose touch with reality. They hurt themselves, either deliberately or by failing to take due care. It is rare that they hurt other people. Far more rare than people who are NOT mentally ill hurting others.

There are other illnesses that carry stigma, but mental illnesses are in a class of their own. The media coverage this week may have set matters back.

But what gives me hope is that after speaking on the radio, I have heard from hundreds of people I didn’t previously know via social media. Many are like me, timidly but courageously speaking up about their own experiences in order to encourage people who are ashamed of their mental illness to seek help.

Together, we can metaphorically hold hands, step forward together and show that we aren’t murderous monsters. And that, with love, support and most of all our own courage, we can make a creative and compassionate contribution to the world.

Thank you to all my old and new friends. I think we are pretty amazing.

#NHSChangeDay is not a distraction from #Kirkup. It is how we will fix things

This week, a number of people have been challenging those of us involved in NHS Change Day to demonstrate its value. Particularly in the light of the Kirkup report about what went wrong with maternity services at Morecambe Bay Hospitals over an extended period.

For example @GeorgeJulian wrote this interesting blog.

There are others questioning whether NHS Change Day is a cult, a cheer-leading exercise led by those with not enough to do, a distraction from the grindingly hard work of running the NHS without sufficient resources, even an opportunity for organisations to put a gloss on how tough things are for patients and staff.

I can see why they might think that. I have another take on it.

The Kirkup report was shocking, for me even more so than the Mid Staffordshire Hospitals report. It got to the heart of what can go wrong when staff go rogue and collude, when key professionals who should be working together in harmony for the benefit of patients declare war on one another, when clinicians are simply not competent to practice, and when managers, commissioners, regulators and even the ombudsman indulge in a form of magical thinking, ignoring the evidence of high rates of death and other serious incidents and accepting assurances that should never have been given. The courage of families, including the man who worked at the hospital and lost his wife and new baby, and James Titcombe and his wife whose baby son Joshua died, has been extraordinary. We owe them a debt of gratitude for never giving up and continuing to insist that the evidence must be looked at properly.

So how can NHS Change Day help? I write now as a nurse and a manager. There have been many times in my 41 years when I have been aware of something not being right. The first time I blew the whistle, I was just 18 and hadn’t even started my nurse training. You’ll have to wait for my book to read the details; suffice to say, I was ill-prepared, it didn’t go well and I was sent away with a flea in my ear. Sometimes it was me that made mistakes, sometimes it was someone else; these things can happen, and we were rightly taught always to own up if we had erred. But what about the surgeon with the shaky hands that everyone was expected to ignore, or the night sister who slept in the laundry room when she should have been supervising us? Who wants to be hated for being a sneak and reporting people who are liked, or may be experiencing personal problems?

My blood ran cold reading about those midwives at Morecambe Bay. They reminded me of maverick teams I have known. Teams who are brusque and unwelcoming however hard you try to engage them, who repel enquiries, describe managers who visit their services and ask questions as interfering, or even talk about bullying if an aspect of their working practice is questioned. And what about more senior clinicians, such as doctors, who are described by colleagues as brilliant but eccentric, and can be extremely unpleasant and difficult to deal with. The ones who write you long letters describing, with great charm, the stupidity of your ways for trying to introduce a change to improve the experience of patients. These people are the exception, but they have a massive impact. I can remember as an executive being told by a senior clinician that to expect to see the results of their clinical audit reports was tantamount to a slur on their professional standing. Eventually a brave junior member of staff blew the whistle on this person. They were dismissed for gross misconduct, upheld on appeal. But despite a ton of evidence, their regulatory body decided to allow them to continue in clinical practice.

The point I am making is that it isn’t easy to be a whistleblower, nor is it straightforward to tackle poor practice. The law is loaded on the side of employee rather than the employer, rightly so, but in healthcare this can and does affect patients.

Initiatives like NHS Change Day are the antidote. They put patients and caring, committed, non-defensive staff where they belong, in the driving seat. Leaders, including patient leaders, set the direction and tone, patients and staff come up with the ideas, and managers support them to deliver these together. Those who object to the change being proposed have the opportunity to discuss it and put the alternative case forward. Ultimately, the majority will decide. Encouraging an open, enquiring culture that is always seeking to improve practice is the best possible way for the NHS to become safer and more compassionate for patients and the vast majority of staff.

It isn’t easy always to be open to change, but we should all be learning and improving continuously.

I’m leading the Time to Change initiative for NHS Change Day. This video explains why – the key bit is from 3 mins 20 seconds. I hope it explains why I feel so strongly about change and in particular, reducing the stigma of mental illness within the NHS.

Thank you.

It’s #NHSChangeDay. And it’s #TimeToChange

My blog today may be the most important thing I write this year. So forgive me if I seem to be plugging it rather a lot!.

We all have mental health. And we all experience mental distress from time to time. But only some of us (1:4) get mental illness. This 3 1/2 minute video explains it well.

One of the hardest things about mental illness is the stigma associated with it. From society but also family, friends and work colleagues. But most of all from ourselves. It stops us seeking help. For example, people wait a year on average before talking to someone else about their depression. This delay causes great suffering and harm.

Time to Talk Day took place last Thursday, part of the national Time to Change campaign. The purpose of setting aside a day every year is to open up conversations of just 5 minutes between people, and to help each other. I had some amazing conversations via Twitter and face to face with people, including at a reception for the national mental health heroes held by Nick Clegg, Deputy Prime Minister.

You may feel that politicians are jumping on the mental health bandwagon in the run-up to the General Election. But I think that’s OK. Because after the election, we can join together and hold whoever is elected very firmly to account to make sure that mental health services stop being the Cinderella of the NHS that they still are. It’s not enough for politicians to say nice things. We need carefully thought-through policies that make a positive difference, and significant investment in real terms over the life of the next parliament.

Stigma has many other negative impacts as well as on policies and funding. Time to Change have found that, while the public are gradually improving their attitudes towards people who experience mental illness, there has been no discernible improvement of attitudes within the NHS. In fact some people who use mental health services say things have got worse.

This produces all sorts of horrible results:

People with mental illness can be treated without the compassion and respect that are essential for effective health care
People with mental illness may not receive the treatment that they need in a timely manner. They may have to fight to get the right care. And they may not even receive the right treatment at all
The links between mental and physical illness can be forgotten or ignored, causing detriment to people with either or both. For example, people with serious mental illnesses die on average 20 years earlier than the general population, often linked to preventable diseases such as heart and/or lung diseases, some types of cancer and strokes. People are people, not single diseases
People with mental illness report that NHS staff can have a pessimistic outlook on their life chances, including relationships, education, employment and social contribution
Staff who work in mental health services can be blamed for things that are not their fault, or criticised for not providing a service when it hasn’t been commissioned or adequately funded
NHS staff who themselves experience mental illness often feel the need to hide it from their colleagues, and when applying for jobs. Mental illness is not seen as something to be proud of overcoming in the way that some physical diseases are portrayed

Part of our #NHSChangeDay #TimeToChange campaign asks NHS staff who have experience of mental illness to consider talking about it with their colleagues. Please be assured, we are not in any way pushing people to do this. We ask anyone who is considering doing so to think about it carefully, and look after themselves, including getting support. There are some good resources here. I know from my own experience how hard making such a disclosure can be, and how significant are the ramifications. But that takes us back to stigma. It really shouldn’t be so hard. And if we cannot be compassionate towards our colleagues who may be experiencing mental illness, how can we, and they, be expected to be compassionate with patients?

When we find ourselves troubled about something that we hold dear, it is human to want to disagree. Or run away. I felt very upset when I first heard the findings of the Time to Change research, and wanted to say no, surely it must be better than this. But then I listened again, and realised that, unless we face up to what has been uncovered about attitudes within the NHS, things will never improve.

If you have 6 minutes to spare, you can watch me talking about it here. Including the long-lasting effect that one nurse’s probably unintentional lack of compassion had on me, also a nurse.

The #NHSChangeDay #TimeToChange campaign aims to tackle this stigma within the NHS head on, with compassion, but also with wisdom and hard work. From it, we are building a programme within Time to Change that we hope will leave a very important legacy for NHS staff and patients.

Whether you are a patient or an NHS clinician, a catering assistant or a Chief Executive, please join us. Everyone can commit to one of our actions or create an action of their own. It’s NHS Change Day on 11th March 2015. And it’s Time to Change.

Thank you.

On Forgiveness

Drawing by Mandy Assin: Lisa as imagined after retirement

” In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” Anne Frank, written 1943, published 1947

“To forgive is not just to be altruistic, it is the best form of self interest.” Archbishop Tutu, 2010

Forgiveness is not only compassionate towards those who have done us harm. It is also good for the person doing the forgiving. And yet, in our social media driven, accountability-obsessed world, we forget this. We seek to apportion cause, responsibility and blame within moments of the occurrence of an event that seems adverse. And then we look for retribution. Even when the case for responsibility is far from proven.

Take Dame Fiona Woolf. The initial chair of the Independent Panel into Child Sex Abuse was the eminent judge Baroness Elizabeth Butler-Sloss. She stood down because her deceased brother, Lord Havers, had been Attorney General at a point to be covered by the inquiry. Woolf, also an eminent lawyer, was hurriedly named by the Home Secretary as her replacement. It then emerged that another former member of government, Lord Brittain, might come under scrutiny during the enquiry (he since died of cancer). Woolf was open about the fact that he was a neighbour and had been to her house for dinner. A media furore ensued, and she resigned from the chair role at the end of October 2014. As her damehood was being announced in the 2015 New Year Honours List, there were calls for it to be rescinded for no reason other than that she had accepted a difficult public task.

You may not care much about Dame Fiona. She is a powerful figure. And you may not care for the honours system. But what about the nurse Jacintha Saldhana? She fell for a not-very-good hoax call to a private hospital by two Australian DJs pretending to be the Queen enquiring after the welfare of the Duchess of Cambridge during her last pregnancy. The call was played across the international media. Some people thought it hilarious, others immediately criticised inadequate security. Then it transpired that Jacintha was so ashamed, she had taken her own life. Public vitriol at once turned on the young DJs, and there could have been more tragedies.

Human beings are flawed. We all make mistakes, some of which only turn out to have been mistakes with the benefit of hindsight. When things go wrong, people need encouragement and support, so they can learn from their mistakes and improve their practice. They may need help to forgive themselves. Unless they have purposely set out to do wrong and are unrepentant, the last thing they need is public criticism. It is particularly damaging for public servants such as teachers, nurses, doctors and managers to have their motives and competency questioned by those who know little of the events in question and have never been in the position of having to do the skilled, difficult work from which the perceived error arose.

These judgemental unforgiving attitudes to mistakes cause collateral damage. The Independent Panel into Child Sex Abuse seemed unlikely ever to happen, although it is excellent news to be able to edit this post on 5th February 2015 as a third, truly independent chair has been announced. It is much needed so that the survivors can finally be heard. But sadly, since the approbation of social workers and social service departments arising from investigations into the Baby Peter case, social work practice has become measurably more conservative, with more children being taken into care, and a national social work recruitment crisis.

Judging without forgiveness makes the people doing the judging feel angry, dissatisfied and unhappy. As Archbishop Tutu showed through his remarkable leadership of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, and in his teachings since through the worldwide Tutu Foundation, there is no future for humans without forgiveness.

The words of Gordon Wilson, speaking on live TV just after he had held the hand of his dying daughter as they lay buried in the rubble of the Enniskillen IRA bombing were “I bear no ill will. I bear no grudge”. His calls for forgiveness and reconciliation helped lay the foundations for the eventual peace in Northern Ireland.

Throughout my career, I have tried to be honest when things haven’t gone as well as they might. I have expressed regret and apologised for failings and perceived failings, and listened and learned from people affected. This has led to improvements. But you have to keep listening.

And I have had my share of media criticism (as most chief executives do) including some unpleasant social media. This tends to be more vicious and personal when one is a woman. I began blogging and tweeting myself because I wanted to share more of who I was and what I was thinking with staff, patients and the public, and get their views directly. Although it has been difficult sometimes, I truly believe that leaders of public services do better by being open.

Some people believe that being active online makes you a target. I have thought hard about this, and I don’t accept it. It feels similar to blaming the victims of rape or other assault for putting themselves in harm’s way.

In September 2013, I announced my plans to retire from my chief executive job the following summer. I then took a big decision, to share for the first time a little of my experiences of mental illness which had occurred off and on since the age of 15. A few weeks after the second of these, I experienced a sudden onset of clinical depression, my worst ever episode. When I went back to work at the beginning of 2014, I had compassionate support. But there was also some nasty social media, just this side of legal. It continues today; it has taken a long time to learn not to look at it.

My breakdown wasn’t caused by anything anyone said about me on the internet, and I got better despite it. The causes were far more fundamental than that. It was my time to change, and I am really pleased that I did.

Because I am better now, I am able to let go of my feelings about people who say unkind and untruthful things about me. I forgive them because I imagine they must be dealing with a great deal of pain themselves. I feel lighter and better for this.

If you are online and thinking about posting a comment on someone’s appearance, motives, or actions, or even making something up about them, think about whether you would say that to their face. Not as a member of an anonymous crowd, but if you were sitting down together, as two human beings. And think about why you are reacting to them in the way you are. Jung said that we can be disturbed by those who reflect aspects of ourself we are less comfortable with; is this something you need help with yourself? I know I sometimes do.

And when someone says something unfair or cruel about you, which can happen to any of us, try very hard to see it for what it is, a remark that may say more about the other person than it does about you. By all means listen to see if you can learn from it. They may well have a point, and you can work on this. But please do not let it destroy you.

As Archbishop Tutu says, whatever mistakes any of us has made, we are all made for goodness.

POST SCRIPT, WRITTEN ON #TIMETOTALK DAY

After publishing this blog, I was pointed to a wonderful radio broadcast This American Life on cyber-harassment which is really worth a listen. A leaked internal memo shows that the CE of Twitter knows they have to do better about cyber-bullying on their platform.

And then one of the women featured in the American Life programme, Lindy West, wrote this very powerful piece about confronting someone who had said truly terrible things to her on the internet. The extraordinary results show that we must never give up on forgiveness, however hard this may be. Even though today is #TimeToTalk day and I may sound like I’ve got my act together, forgiveness is as hard for me as it must be for any of you reading this.