Copy link Copied Copy link Copied Subscribe to gift this article Gift 5 articles to anyone you choose each month when you subscribe. Already a subscriber? Login My meltdown at Finchley Road train station in London is still a bit of a blur. It was around the end of the second COVID-19 lockdown, and I was working for one of the biggest banks in the world as a director.
I was also home-schooling our boys as Sonia was a key worker, and she had to be on call for the seriously ill. At work, I was under a lot of pressure, plus I pushed myself to be on a treadmill of “get the bigger job, get the bigger house, get the better car”. I’d been expecting a significant promotion, and when I didn’t get it, I was crushed.
What’s more, I grew up in a culture where men are encouraged to be masculine and stoic; opening up about emotional matters isn’t something we generally do. So even though I felt completely maxed out, I kept my head down and stayed quiet. The Telegraph London Copy link Copied Copy link Copied Subscribe to gift this article Gift 5 articles to anyone you choose each month when you subscribe.
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