Ómós Digest #201: Finding Superpowers

My not-so-secret superpower: therapy - By Cúán Greene

My not-so-secret superpower: therapy

I’m often asked how I deal with pressure; my answer is always “I do therapy”.

I’m very open about it, but I’m aware this attitude can be somewhat disarming. I’ll be heading home from an early morning session and pass a friend or acquaintance on the street, walking at a steady pace to work. “I’m just on my way back from therapy” I’ll say, catching them off guard. It bemuses me to watch some recoil in awkwardness, as though I’ve informed them of a death. Conversely, for others, it’s an invitation; there’s a connection or a curiosity. Maybe they go to therapy themselves, or have contemplated it.

It took me three attempts to find my therapist. After working with two women, to my own surprise, I settled on a man. It turned out I had cooked for one of the women in the past – when she realised the connection, she was mortified. On the contrary, it hadn’t bothered me in the slightest. I suppose this was thanks to the fact that I’ve never been embarrassed about doing therapy. I’ve always regarded it as a strength, my superpower.

There are plenty of people who would hate to see their therapist in public; the thought that they exist outside the sacred space can be petrifying. While it hasn’t happened to me yet, I would have no problem with it. My therapist is a person whom I like immensely, but with whom I have a business relationship. I know very little about him, and don’t plan to learn more. That’s the unspoken part of the agreement, I guess. Yet, I start every session by asking him how he is. He responds mostly by saying ‘peaceful’, which sometimes drives me mad with jealousy (peace is something I rarely experience). However, if I ran into him in a pub, I’m sure I’d offer to buy him a pint if he’d let me. That being said, I completely understand those who balk at the prospect of seeing their therapist outside of the four familiar walls they associate with that relationship. We are all different.

Ómós was my catalyst to start therapy, a decision I made three years ago. I’ve attended sessions every second Tuesday since. I understood that embarking on this project would be challenging, and if it were to be a success, I would need support. That support comes in many forms from many people, notably my wife, family, partners, and friends. However, I know for a fact that the decision to put myself through therapy has been truly definitional for my state of mind; it’s provided me the tools to best manage any anxiety and stress that arises. Plus, as a result, I’ve never had more consistency with training and exercise. Although I have always been active and enjoyed sports, I saw exercise as being largely about the physical benefits. Now I think of physical activity for its benefits for my mental wellness first and foremost. Of course I still have bad days, despite the progress, and I remain pretty brutal at active meditation, for example. I have yet to find consistency with the willpower it takes to pause and meditate, and maybe I never will…

I always say how fortunate I have been with the upbringing and life I have had. My childhood was idyllic, and I’m lucky to have had the parenting I received growing up. I have never felt more lucky to have been born where I was. That said, working in kitchens from a young age has definitely taken its toll. I’ve worked under more than a few poor employers or bad managers, undertrained or ill equipped to lead. These experiences have certainly affected me to the point that I felt I would never be rid of the nightmares and memories of these environments and experiences.

During my early years of training in kitchens, I tried everything to be the best at what I was passionate about. I would fail, and fail miserably. I simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. I would convince myself I was the best, unwilling to learn slowly and develop. My eagerness caused self-inflicted pain. I remember once during a banquet, when the dessert came around, I was eager to be part of the ‘quennelling team’. In reality, my quennelles weren’t up to scratch, certainly not to perform 30 consecutive beautiful egg-shaped ice cream scoops that were demanded at that moment. My eagerness in that moment drove me to jump in, cause havoc, and the chef to berate me. I’ve avoided quennelles since, and as a consequence am truthfully not very good at the technique even now!

I think a great chef is not just someone who cooks exquisitely, that’s a great cook. A great chef is someone with a broad range of skills, and while I may not consider myself ‘great’ at anything, I know I am a good chef. I’ve always reveled in the creative, never happier than when I make a beautiful, delicious, or new dish; a product of years of dedication to my craft. If I’m lucky, all three elements come together to create a perfect trifecta. But equally, I’m good with people; I think deeply about how others feel, and how words and actions affect people both positively and negatively, and I want people to feel comfortable around me and the environment I’ve created. To create an atmosphere where people feel empowered, challenged, and appreciated is a beautiful thing.

While I’m confident in my ability, I am forever on a path of self-improvement. I know I work fast, but there are many faster. I’m organised, but having worked with Japanese chefs, I know I can’t compete. I am always looking for ways to grow and widen that broad range of skills; be it the organisation of folders on my Google Drive, my skill set in the kitchen or the crucial skill of delegation. I find the latter absolutely fascinating; done right it’s both the secret to empowering others and getting stuff done. It’s all an active learning process. I’ve come a long way since those early, eager years.

So today, I am accepting of my weaknesses. Confident enough to admit them, of course, to constantly seek to improve, but to empower those who possess the skills and strengths I do not. Ómós is a product of pure collaboration, and it is such an enormous privilege to lead a team who are so in tune, working so respectfully together while challenging one another. The level of talent around Ómós is totally inspiring. The level of dedication I witness every day is why I feel so confident in saying how proud I feel.

Last week, I found myself unexpectedly turning to my therapist, and looking straight into his eyes, I thanked him. I thanked him for helping me in my development; for listening, and for challenging me when appropriate. Over these years and in the process of this work, I have learned to accept my weaknesses without being overly self-critical, I have learned that being kind to myself is the key to daily management and finding those rare moments of peace necessary for growth, and in doing so, I like to think I have become a more confident leader and better chef.