Unpacking Perfectionism: Its Makers + Manifestations
By: Martin Associate Director of Brand Communications Katie Walley-Wiegert
[ Illustration By Martin Technical Designer Nicole Pernell ]
I’m perpetually cold. You won’t find me on the couch without a blanket—and my husband is astounded that I still crank the space heater from my dining room table the home office as we inch into summertime. One reason for my high heat tolerance is my decade-plus experience of wearing long sleeves and pants to hide all the bruises and cuts.
I think you know where I’m going here. If you’ve experienced abuse, and a perspective piece on it will bring you pain, it’s okay to stop reading—digital hugs to you.
The Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline notes a report of child abuse is made every 10 seconds, so my story isn’t unique. What I do know is Domestic + Family Violence Prevention Month gets lost in Mental Health Month’s shadow—and the linkage between abuse and mental trauma isn’t discussed nearly enough.
In all the conversations I’ve had over the years with others who’ve experienced abuse is a common thread of people feeling mislabeled and misunderstood within their workplaces.
Honestly, I’m not sure who I’d be or what I’d be doing if I hadn’t experienced abuse. Writing was my escape. Word by word, I’d craft identities and worlds so far from my reality. Words are my full-time gig at Martin.
What’s In A Word
I’ve been punched, thrown down staircases, whipped with a belt. I’ve broken a good portion of the left side of my face in a car accident, too. With titanium plates in my cheek, I like to imagine I may look like The Terminator under the hood.
All that hurt. My indelible scars were etched with words, though. Does that make me weak?
“Words are abstract ideas that take on the form and shape you give them,” writes national wellness speaker Vaishali for HuffPost. “No one jumps into your mind and poisons your response. You alone are accountable for their interpretation by what you choose with your free will.”
If a robot told me my very existence was a mistake, I’d probably shrug it off. When the words repeatedly came from my parent, I broke.
The words follow me to work every day, playing on loop:
- Every time I write an email using the words “I think,” my brain flips back to being hit for saying “I think” in response to a homework answer versus “I know.”
- Every time I feel like I’m spiraling with anxiety because I don’t feel I’m providing enough “value.”
- Every time I’m quick to get candid with my opinions, or I show less emotion when something goes sideways, as none of it ever feels as heavy in comparison to those words.
Peers often mistake my quick-to-act and quick-to-deliver tendencies with competitiveness, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Maybe words alone don’t hold all the power. Perhaps it’s the carriers of words that spice them with vitriol? Words get tossed around, devoid of intention—with dehumanizing impact. Take Dr. Deborah Stroman’s experience as the only Black faculty member in her university department, who was taken aback at how her students addressed her. So much so that she penned an entire article with examples of how words are “used to block truths and history.”
Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we could seek to understand before being understood? What if we approached people with more curiosity and fewer assumptions?
Saying “I think” is my way of embracing the limits of my own perspective while inviting others to challenge my thoughts. It’s not a lack of confidence.
Seeing Is Freeing
The first time I ever told someone about being physically and verbally abused by a parent was over a Bloomin’ Onion at Outback Steakhouse in college.
A university project partner was saying: “You’re such a Hermione Granger and hand raiser! You take it all so seriously.” I don’t know what compelled me to make that moment a tell-all chat on why. The scope of our relationship changed forever; he saw my “doer-ness” in a very different light.
The third time I told someone about being abused and struggling with anxiety was at Martin.
Why?
Because I knew the agency embraced all of me, even the messy parts.
My first week at Martin, I got to sit down with President Chris Mumford. I don’t remember how our conversation steered into mental health. Chris told me about the horrific death of his brother and how it impacted his mental wellness. Have you ever opened your mouth to nothing coming out but the voice in your own head? That’s what happened to him on a new-biz pitch back in the day. He talked about how much that moment frightened him and the importance of therapy (I co-sign its importance!).
The whole conversation was so raw and honest. And, shortly after, the agency gathered for some Mental Health Month programming.
Erase Or Perpetuate Mental Health Stigmas
Not a one-time after-hours affair, the agency pulled together weekly programs on mental health. One was all about looking at examples of how mental health is portrayed in various types of media.
Have six minutes to spare? Go ahead and click on the below links and relive the session with me:
- Abilify’s “Depression Umbrella” ad for its antidepressant product
- Samsung’s “Predict To Prevent” spot for a predictive, text-based application
- BBC “Body Language” visual essay on what it feels like to have depression
What do you think? What resonates and what grates, and why? No wrong answers! Just as we did in May 2019, analyze these through the lens of being a human wanting to do better and be better for yourself and your coworkers.
Here’s where the discussion netted out among participants:
- Abilify: The “depression as an umbrella” metaphor got mixed results. Some explained the visualization helped them wrap their heads around an invisible illness. Others felt it simplifies something much too complex and serious—and that mental health isn’t cartoonish.
- Samsung: Cheers for making people at least consider the words we use when supporting friends with mental illness. Yet, numerous people felt the blood was triggering and excessive. Attendees also felt this oversimplifies mental illness. Others questioned whether tech as a solution to something this nuanced removed the humanity of comfort.
Gotta pull this last one out from a bulleted list, because it’s standalone important.
Not a single person had a negative thing to say about the BBC visual essay. Did you watch it? Here’s your last chance to take a look—and it’s lived in my head rent free since I saw it two years ago. It was the only piece of content allowing a real person who’s struggled with depression to share their story. While much longer than the other two, most people found this piece of content to be the most engaging and relatable.
Why?
People could relate to the shame of not feeling like you can tell others you’re straight-up mentally unwell. This is proof that society needs more authentic stories in media that aren’t selling anything but instead spread important messages.
Naturally, the conversation shifted to how—if mental illness was more accepted and understood in agencies—more stories like the visual essay could emerge, even for brand clients.
When It’s Okay To Say You’re Not Always Okay
Mental wellness is a part of Martin’s daily vernacular. We even get access to on-site counselors (because a massive barrier to getting therapy is finding time and space to speak with professionals).
Over time, this agency has opened me up as a person. It helped me stop hiding from my own story and insecurities. I’ve never felt so comfortable being vulnerable in the workplace, and I’ve never felt this understood. I take comfort in shared candor. I know I’m not the only one with a dark passenger.
I’m just as much a PRWeek Woman To Watch and a member of THE Corporate Comms Team Of The Year as I am a woman who can seriously doubt the impact she can make some days. Heck, I get panic attacks sometimes.
It’s easier to take on the highs and the lows of life in an environment that’s equally committed to my good days and my not-so-good ones.
We want to hear and see from you, too. If you’re itching to know something or have a question or comment we can start a dialogue on—email: katie.walley-wiegert@martinagency.com.
