Baby Reindeer: Baring your soul in the name of work and the impact it can have on your mental health

I’ve just finished watching Baby Reindeer. Wow. What a punch that show packs. It’s brutal. Hiding behind a cushion brutal. And at times, easy to forget it’s real life, a true story, a dramatisation of someone’s actual experiences.

In today’s world of Substacks and video content, it can feel like everyone is putting themselves out there, but that’s not the case. What we often read and see or watch is people’s curated ‘warts and all’. Baby Reindeer is the opposite of an ‘I’m being honest here, guys…’ instagram post, I’d say.

Baby Reindeer shows us just how much someone is prepared to expose themselves, their insides on the outside, as part of their art, and their career. I am in awe of the way Richard Gadd has told his story. I am amazed at the way he acts his own part in the drama, and how his story has become what he is known for. Brave is a word often bandied about, but for me this is very brave.

It’s struck a nerve with me because I have often also bared my soul in the name of my ‘art’. Not to that extent - and I am of course grateful not to have such a story to tell - but in my own way, from dating to life choices, I’ve put myself out there, worn my heart on my sleeve and allowed my story to be read and seen by strangers the world over.

I always wanted to have a column, and over the years have tried to share the innermost parts of my life. I wanted to be the Caitlin Moran, the Liz Jones - making a living from sharing my ups and downs, my warts-and-all.

For example, I’ve written ad infinitum about my dating/love life, even sharing how I wasn’t told ‘I love you’ until I was 36. I’ve talked about my feelings on working from home (No, I didn’t write the headline, writers rarely do!), and I’ve written about how I moved from London to the Cotswolds.

I’ve written about experiences from weekend loneliness to having my fertility tested for a feature (sorry, no link for that one).

It’s hard to explain what drives this need to create something out of experience. What makes you think ‘yes, I’ll offer that part of my insides to a publisher’.

I do think on some level it’s about people pleasing. For me there’s an element of “Hey, read this, I’ve shared my everything with you, please love me!”

There’s also an element of catharsis - that sharing puts something ‘out there’ that was otherwise buried deep within.

For me, sharing my feelings and experiences in articles (and even in stand up comedy) feels detached from the real me. Sometimes when people say they found something I wrote, I feel a bit odd. It’s strange that they have found it, that it’s readable. There’s a disconnect for me between the pitch, the writing, and the publication.

But then, publication day was always a spoke of ‘what have I done?!’. I’d go to get the magazine, or click on the link, and think ‘What on earth was I thinking?!’.

I’d wonder if I’d get trolled (thankfully not that much) and I’d wonder if this would be my big break. If an agent, or Netflix, even, would see what I’d written and come calling.

The impact on my mental health of sharing something in the name of work has been manyfold. There is the stress of deciding whether to go for it - the worry about how it’ll be received. There’s the impact on our anxiety, if we have anxiety, of the creation and publication of content that is very close to our hearts and souls.

Sometimes, there will be anger and panic - I’ve experienced both of these in the process of sharing my personal stories in the press. Panic that I’ve said the wrong thing, that I’ll come across as a ‘bad person’ and anger that the idea I had might be changed or edited and not resemble what I first envisioned.

There’s also disappointment - when I don’t get the glory I hope will come from being so open and sharing my warts-and-all experiences. There is the searing hit of embarrassment that strangers will be reading, and judging, and thinking ‘who is this woman, who wants to tell us all about her feelings?’.

There is the pang of guilt that I’ve written about myself and by default other people I know or might have spent time with.

There’s the slump, post-adrenaline, of ‘what next’, seeking that next buzz of seeing my name, face and words in print.

Yet I carry on. Last year I wrote about being a Midlife Bride for Good Housekeeping, and, of course, there is this Substack.

Are you thinking of baring all in an article, a drama, comedy, or blog… or starting a ‘warts and all’ insta about your experiences?

Here are my top tips before you do:

• Make sure it’s really something you want ‘out there’. Yes, you can delete things but once they’re out there they can be easily shared. What’s the goal here, the real purpose? Is it about offloading some feelings, or is it about a wider goal?

• Make sure it’s YOU - your tone, your idea, your style. If you’re going for it, make it true to you.

• Have a plan for how things may play out but be prepared for curve balls. Starting a blog about your love life? Great - you might have some outline ideas but be prepared for ideas to come to you that will derail the plan. Often soul-baring is organic.

• Be ok with deleting drafts - if you decide something is a step too far to talk about, you can always leave it in drafts.

• Be prepared for nobody to be bothered. Harsh? well, it’s true. Sometimes you bare your soul but people just turn and look elsewhere.

To come find me oversharing daily on Instagram, click the video below

Thanks for reading as always

xJenny

jennyhollidaycoach

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