Ben Holliday

Things get smaller the further you step away from them

I wanted to share this post about a day I took off work last week.

I have shared quite openly about health challenges before, including a post for Mental Health Awareness Week in 2022. I talked here about dealing with confidence and anxiety issues, especially related to hearing loss, and what I’ve more recently come to understand as living with a type of Ménière’s Disease.

This year has been a lot so far. I think, like many people, I’m struggling with how much there is to process in the world, with a general sense of things getting worse or stagnating in the UK, geopolitics and the US, and the ongoing conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine.

In my work, geopolitics now extends to understanding and having a point of view on emerging technologies and priorities around AI. These technologies, and the tech companies behind the AI hype, are very much political, including how UK government is starting to place and position its own big bets. This extends to thinking about the ethical boundaries of how this aligns (or doesn’t) with my own values and worldview. In response to this, you will have seen me writing more and exploring AI topics on this blog, some of which builds on my Multiplied book and previous writing.

All of this is alongside a job that already means I hold a lot of uncertainty and responsibility for other people and their work. Just to say, that’s okay – it’s what I signed up to, and I think I do a good job. But, it’s always important to recognise how we’re holding things.

I say this often to my own teams, that there is an importance in knowing when and how to hold things lightly, even when caring deeply about the work, and especially how you apply care and kindness in the ways you work with and lead other people.

But it can all become a lot to hold.

So, I did something really rare last week. At least rare for me. I took a mental health day.

This was actually a day of annual leave, but having spotted a few days of warm, perfect March weather, I asked for a last minute day off and managed to clear my diary. Making the best use of the day, I headed off to the Langdales in the Lake District, about a 40 minute drive from home – leaving about 9am, and spending the whole day in the mountains.

Things getting smaller and staying smaller

I ended up doing a big walk. Starting at Stickle Ghyll, a National Trust site, I walked to the summits of Loft Crag, Pike of Stickle, Harrison Stickle, Thunacar Knott, High Raise, and Sergeant Man, and ended at Stickle Tarn. This is a walking round sometimes called the Langdale Pikes (you can see some of the route here). As an aside, this day in the fells took me to 114/214 in my goal to complete all the Wainwrights – this was five new summits checked off in one go, with a return visit to Harrison Stickle.

It was only an 8.1 mile walk in total, but this particular walk means a very steep climb straight off from the car park to the first summit, and then more up-and-down hiking to follow that. To be honest, it was hard and slow going all day.

I had one thought on the slow, hot climb throughout Thursday morning. While it was a slog, with every step everything else got a little bit smaller. It got further away and less important.

In a strange way, when this happens, all those other things tend to stay smaller, even when you eventually come back to them. It’s hard earned perspective. The need to focus on the mountain, or something else that brings a new perspective of everything else.

It was a great day overall and I eventually returned home with a clear head and, although very tired and with limbs aching, totally mentally refreshed. Anyone who spoke or met with me on Friday work calls probably noticed I was energised for the end of what is normally a long week.

I do feel privileged in sharing something like this, but I want my teams and colleagues to know it’s okay to prioritise and to put your mental health first. For proper context, it’s only the first time I’ve prioritised a day like this for eight years in all the variations I’ve held of my current role.

If you’re reading this post, I’m okay. It’s also okay not to be okay. I’m sharing this because things do get smaller the further you step away from them. I need to remember to keep doing that, and you should too.

A view to Stickle Tarn in the UK Lakes District.
A view to Stickle Tarn in the UK Lake District – March 2025.

This is my blog where I’ve been writing for 20 years. You can follow all of my posts by subscribing to this RSS feed. You can also find me on Bluesky and LinkedIn.