It was not so long ago really. One lifetime, perhaps even two and there we were. The barge we went on was still active down the east coast of England in the 1970s. I remember seeing them sailing serenely past my own seaside home town when I was a child. There was something majestic about them then and there still is.

The brilliance of the barges in their heydays was that it took just two people to run them: a skipper and a mate. Our barge was originally crewed by one man and his two sons but one of them jumped ship at Ipswich and joined the local fire station. It was a hard life. Our own trip was just 12 hours and, by the end of the third hour (9am in the morning), I could understand why he’d had enough.

It didn’t take me long to realise that, what initially seemed like a fun day out might involve quite a bit of work. I’d had a disturbed night’s sleep after being interrupted by what sounded like an all-night party in what must have been one of Essex’s sleepiest village. Everyone local denied knowledge of it the next day. Strange that.

As a result, we arrived bleary-eyed when it was still not yet dawn. There were 12 of us on board in total and it was pretty clear straight away this was not going to be quite the fun day out I’d thought. Three guests volunteered with good grace to take an active part in crewing from the beginning. The enthusiastic sailor who’d suggested the trip to me was in a state of pique about the local party and looked like he was going to sulk for the full 12 hours. He effectively did. One down, several others to go.

The crew consisted of our skipper, a first – and only – mate and a cook. We weren’t greeted or welcomed aboard (our names apparently were ticked off but I missed that bit) but we somehow gravitated towards fellow travellers and managed to connect in that combination of hesitancy and hail-fellow-well-met-style some English people seem to have mastered so that, by the end of the trip, we felt almost like life-long friends. Even my friend the sulker had thawed enough to start chatting.

The skipper, a man of few words was a bit dour, but clearly competent. The first mate was efficient and sociable,  just the person you’d want near you in a crisis. Unfortunately, his charm seemed to fail against the skipper who regularly shouted curt one-word instructions that made him jump and us question his capability.

Eventually the mate felt the need to tell us he and the skipper had never worked together before. “I’ve worked with four others and they all have their own style,” he said in an apologetic whisper as he obeyed the latest order and jumped over us to prepare for yet more tacking as we changed direction to catch the wind. As the crew tacked, we “observers” ducked our heads to avoid coming into contact with the huge sails. As a non-sailor, I quickly discovered I had a natural aptitude for self-preservation.

Our cook, who did a great job and gave us the occasional flash of a brilliant smile, was mainly in a world of her own with her eyes glued on the mobi whenever she escaped from the galley. I got the sense that I/we might have been superfluous to her needs. I know it was just a job but I don’t really like to feel I’m intruding, particularly when I’m paying to join the gang.

Talking of gangs, I was impressed at how we, the travellers had managed to bind ourselves into a cohesive group that worked good-naturedly in a confined space for the whole 12 hours. There was one person who bucked the trend and kept himself to himself. One brave female guest sidled up to him and asked if everything was all right. She’d wondered if he was feeling seasick. “Yes, thank you,” he said. “I prefer to be alone.” We all felt a little uncomfortable.

Why I wondered, had he come on such a trip in that case? It occurred to me that the boat, in a way, was a microcosm of society. It worked well when we all contributed in some way, encouragement to crew members, physical work, interest in what was happening or just gasps of amazement when we saw the odd porpoise sailing alongside. Each of us felt the benefit of the other when we played our part. If someone resisted, and just plain didn’t, it left us with a slight sense of edginess that was both disturbing and unsettling. That was disturbing.

A few days later, I was on a train bound for Gatwick Airport. A young man with his wife, mother-in-law and two small children climbed on, loaded with buggies, toys, suitcases and all those other bits and pieces you need to take on holiday with children. Within minutes of the train’s departure, the young mum remembered she’d left her new trainers in the cab taking the family to the station. Her dress was with the trainers, so were the nappies (in that order). She was clearly annoyed.

If that scenario had happened to many people I know, there’d have been some element of blame or aggression over whose fault it was. Not in this case. The man retrieved his phone, called the cab company, told them the problem and said he’d be getting off at the next stop and coming back to retrieve the items from the taxi rank. No fuss, no bad temper, just direct action that left his beloved blowing kisses at him and the children not even noticing he’d gone.

If there were a prize for skills in social graces, he’d have to win it.

Even so, I feel a lingering regret every year and try to find ways of compensating by looking forward. Christmas is a bit too far in the distance so, for the past few years, I’ve found the bridge between Usually, it’s the return of the annual Strictly Come Dancing that lifts my mood but this year, though I am still trying, I’m not quite there.

If you’re not a Strictly fan, this won’t mean much to you. But, according to programme data, there are still more than six million of us so that makes it more than enough for a talking point.

Admittedly, that is far fewer than its peak viewing year of 2020 when more than 10 million people tuned in. That might, however, have been something to do with the Covid lockdown period when most of us were housebound and relying on our television for company.

Still, six million plus is a good number, so I think it’s worth a discussion.

To recap: there’s been a row about a professional dancer and a celebrity who was pared with him last season. It started this time last year when the celebrity, an actress, dropped out after leaving a cryptic message on Instagram (as you do!) underneath a pair of dancing shoes and explaining of her “deepest regret” at her decision to leave the show.

While she thanked everyone on the team for being a “wonderful bunch of people” she did not mention her partner. And the rumours started.

The Italian champion dancer, beloved by many of us who followed the show, left and is now working happily in Italy. He denies all alleged wrongdoing.

There’s been a “he said/she said” back and force for months now, including a couple of highly publicised interviews from our celebrity giving her version of events. I must admit to dipping into one of them and feeling very sorry for her, reminding myself that, while it might be true, it may not have been as her dance partner saw it. He hired a firm of top lawyers – as did she – but kept a “dignified” silence.

The matter was put to the BBC management who, the corporation decided, were to be judge and jury, external mediation was not required.

And so it was left. And left and left until the Strictly season was once more upon us. But, this time, it didn’t have the same sense of joy it’s had every year since I’ve been watching it. It felt a bit flat, and that was before it had even started.

We fans wanted to know the outcome of the inquiry. Most of us were on one side or the other so it would be useful to have some firm guidance, rather than the slip-sliding position we were in at present.

I’m not sure – and it’s only a week or two at the most since it happened – what the sequence of events was. Did we get the BBC’s verdict before the show began or did it become headline news (really? Headline news?) after Strictly had started? I can’t remember.

What I do know is it seems to have been a complete damp squib. Neither one thing, nor the other, with both sides “delighted” with the outcome. Sounds like a brilliant judgment but, again, … really? Usually, one side feels just that teeny weeny bit disgruntled.

I don’t know if I’m taking one for the team, but I have to say that I felt a little disgruntled. Not every disagreement ends with a “two sides to every argument”. Sometimes there’s a right and a wrong and we need to be brave enough to choose who you believe and come out and say it. That’s what judging’s all about. Otherwise, why bother?

I can’t say I’ve put that thought to one side. I haven’t. I still feel slightly discontented and, frankly, cheated.

Out of slight desperation and a little bit of curiosity, I’ve returned to Strictly for my Saturday autumn into winter entertainment but the sparkles aren’t quite enough.

None of the TV ahead of programme “teasers” had the excitement that they usually do; the celebrity “stars” were more men than women because, it turns out, women have been put off from taking part by what’s happened and the va-va-voom just was not there.

It gets worse. The first show opened and closed with not one single mention of anything. Not the controversy, not the findings, nothing. Absolutely nothing. Week three (or was it four) and still not a word, except for a joke by comedian Chris McCausland, who’s dancing with professional partner Diane Buswell and who happens to be blind. Now that’s a challenge.

After one truly amazing performance, he slipped in a line about how his partner had “kicked him in the face” during rehearsals and there was a split-second’s stillness before nervous laughter appeared. Seems like the presenters have been warned not to go there at any cost.

And then I realised. It’s the elephant in the room that no-one’s talking about. It’s bad enough in “real” life but you can’t have that in a dancing competition. It takes up too much space and how on earth can you look fairy-like and magnificent when there’s this great bit jumbo taking up your space?

The judges, the presenters, the professional dancers and the competitors are trying to put on a brave face but it’s just not working. Ironically, they seem out of step and behaving out of character. It’s as though they’ve been taken over by aliens. Or, perhaps more likely, they’ve been told to provide diversionary tactics to stop the audience concentrating on that all-absorbing elephant.

A brave face is not good enough. The problem must be confronted and we, the millions of fans who are still willing the show to work, need to be informed about what is going on. I feel as if the “grown up” BBC is treating me like a child and deciding what I can and cannot know. Considering I pay my licence which makes me a stakeholder in the organisation, I consider myself patronised.

This, of course, is not all about a TV dance competition. It’s about life and how we might feel if we’re not treated with the respect and trust we deserve.

It’s about being authentic, telling it as it is and facing up to the consequences. It’s about removing the elephant in the room by replacing it with the adult. It’s about us behaving as adults and insisting on being treated as such. It’s about a dialogue, a conversation and finding a way to fix the problem, if there is one. Communication is always the key. Silence creates a space for problems to fester.

Otherwise, next year, they won’t be having to worry about elephants. Instead, they’ll be looking at ways of filling the huge gap left for Saturday night programming because their audience has decided it’s time to leave the dance floor.

Critically, retirement also signals stepping away from an established persona and embedded behaviours. Finding out who we are, without the title, status and power that are often afforded to those in successful roles, can be daunting; while losing the daily routine of leaving home to go to a different life is a huge change in itself.

It can be helpful to speak to someone about these emotions in order to process them effectively, whether that’s at the point of retirement or even ahead of time. Being prepared for feelings that might crop up will help to make the process of transitioning to the next stage of your life smoother. For those within relationships, it may also be useful to consider couples therapy, so that each partner can explore their thoughts about the changes taking place.

Two examples of common issues that individuals face as they reach retirement are described below.

Roger was a senior executive who excelled at his career and retired comfortably at 58 years old. Roger recognised early in life what was needed to succeed and, as the only son of a single mother, relentlessly delivered it – he ensured his mother had security in her old age as well as carefully supporting his own family. Throughout his professional life, Roger worked through weekends and holidays, missing milestone birthdays and important personal events, but he justified these decisions as necessary sacrifices in order to provide for his dependents. At the point of retirement, Roger planned to finally enjoy time with his loved ones – however, he had spent little time at home in the preceding decades. He had not developed shared interests with his children as teenagers, and now struggled to relate to them as adults with their own families and careers. His plans to make up for lost holidays and weekends away with his partner were only a partial success as she had her own priorities to attend to, including an independent social life. In sum, Roger planned his retirement without reality-checking it with those he expected to share it with, discovering late that life had moved on for everyone else while he had been busy in the office.

Gillian had a different experience. She had always loved being abroad, and understood that travelling was a goal for many people at the point of retirement. However, having had a twelve month ‘honeymoon’ period adventuring overseas with her husband and friends, she returned home and realised that the life she had retired into was no longer the life she wanted. She had lost her appetite for travel, and yet her large family house in the countryside felt burdensome and inconvenient now that her children had left home. Gillian found herself remembering a time before she had had children and risen up the ranks in her career as a lawyer, when she had been able to indulge her interest in art. She reflected on how happy this had made her. For Gillian the change at this point of retirement was significant. She realised that the things which society expected her to enjoy, and which she herself had enjoyed once, no longer appealed. Instead of travelling and maintaining a large family home, she wanted to focus on her talents and the things that gave her joy. Gillian realised that she would rather move to a smaller property in the city, close to her adult children, and enrol in an art course  – even if this was a new path for her, and one that might be seen as unconventional.

If any of this resonates with you, and you would like support to explore this stage in your life, please get in touch. Together we can discover how and why you have lived your life so far, identify what you now need to thrive and put a plan in place to make it happen.

Contact ailis@therapyharleystreet.co.uk

When we feel pressure start to mount, it’s like an internal alarm system going off, alerting us to the areas of our lives which need most attention. If we pause and examine what’s behind our feelings, we can start to identify what we need to do to put things right: whether this means investing more time in a relationship or project, or deciding to walk away.

Anxiety and stress can be particularly helpful early on in our careers – they push us to work harder, which in turn can expose us to accelerated opportunities and make it more likely we’ll be handling projects with thoroughness and preparedness. However, they can also become maladaptive, especially when overused. At these points anxiety and stress stop being helpful motivators and start contributing to overwhelm.

When this happens, our rational thinking becomes hijacked by big feelings, which often stem from childhood experiences. What we can find is that how we behaved to stay safe as a child may now be replicated as an adult. When these feelings are acted out in the workplace, they can confuse colleagues who may be surprised by expressions of resentment, outbursts, accusations, or who witness our complete shutdown.

When anxiety and stress find their way to the surface, it is often very painful. And as it is a process that unfolds subconsciously, it is equally unpredictable for both parties, leading to huge feelings of regret both for the person who has become distressed and the person on the receiving end.

Fortunately, anxiety and stress systems can be reset, enabling you to use all your skills confidently again.

How anxiety shows up in the workplace

If we look back at childhood experiences, we can trace the route through to adult behaviour.

A criticised child may grow up to become successful in their career but be crippled by imposter syndrome. They may hide a dread of not measuring up or of being shouted at and shamed. This may lead to perfectionist tendencies and workaholism.

An emotionally neglected child might grow up to be a people-pleaser, craving opportunities to be seen and appreciated. This may lead to over-investing in helping others at their own expense or relying too closely on a few co-dependent relationships.

A bullied child may grow up to become a bully themselves, perhaps blaming others for problems that they are experiencing. Sometimes displacement occurs where anger towards someone in one setting is taken elsewhere (for example frustration towards a boss or team-mate spilling out at home). In extreme cases, personality splitting occurs. For adults who behave in this way, only low levels of emotional complexity can be processed, meaning people must be seen as either all good or all bad as understanding that we may have a mix of traits is too much to process when feeling under threat.

All of these defence techniques have roots in the past and we retain them because we believe they help us cope in the moment. We may have been through moments of anger, stress and tension when these responses helped us to navigate things safely - but once we recognise them they have served their purpose, and it’s time to let them go and grow into a brighter and more emotionally-regulated future.

How to break free

Anxiety, stress and fear are interconnected. When we perceive a risk, we recognise a threat and feel fear. We may then become distressed and either lash out or crash out, as described above. Some of us have become so used to this constant state of threat that a sense of calm or happiness can trigger unrest and guilt, putting us back on edge again. Critically, this may lead us to sabotage projects, relationships and career opportunities. It is exhausting to live like this.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) can help us to move beyond our instinctive childhood fear responses. Using CBT can reduce sensitivity to threat, increase tolerance for feeling anxious and help us to identify and manage our reactions .

Together we can unpick how and why you think as you do. For example, catastrophic thinking (“I’ve an unexpected interview with my boss, so I’m about to lose my job, my house will be repossessed and I will be homeless”) is a common bedfellow of anxiety. Using CBT, catastrophic thinking can be identified earlier to reduce feelings of helplessness – and when you are in a less threatened state, you will be able to consider more realistic interpretations of situations.

Examining the roots of your thinking errors, mapping their triggers, considering the consequences of this thinking and discovering an alternative perspective puts you back in control.

We all develop responses as children which get us through difficult times. Without help or a loving parent modelling how to emotionally grow further, it is easy to remain trapped in behaviours even when your life circumstances have outgrown them. Can we abolish anxiety and stress completely? No, and nor should we want to as they are an important part of our psychological makeup. But what we can do is learn to tolerate them as part of life, and use them to help us read situations realistically and respond in a healthy way.

If any of these issues affect you, get in touch at ailis@therapyharleystreet.co.uk