It never occurred to me I could be vulnerable

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It never occurred to me I could be vulnerable
Source: Pixabay via Pexels
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The moment I realised I might be vulnerable was when I caught myself hiding from my toddler behind a fridge in the utility room, cramming a Fruit 'n' Nut bar into my face.

It occurred to me that I was doing a Boris Johnson. But then I figured that if I could feel the need to flee from the cutest two-year-old in the history of the world, then why shouldn't the Prime Minister feel the need to secret himself away from prying reporters?

(Although, of course, I was merely behind a household appliance, not inside one).

The pandemic has emphasised just how easy it is for vulnerabilities to manifest themselves. It's not that I'm devoid of ideas to entertain my toddler; but without the usual two-days-a-week childcare from Nanna who is shielding, I have to juggle daycare and full-time work on the days he isn't in nursery.

There is glitter on my keyboard, paint on my notebook and I've put odd words into emails as I've been distracted while writing. I've had to tear myself away from home-made jungles and cardboard boats and switch from being a pirate to a pensions specialist at the touch of a mousepad.

I've been interrupted - constantly - by demands for cuddles, snacks and being told about buses being red and going 'brrrummm'. Did you know that? Apparently they do. And their wheels go round. All the time.

As an aside, nobody tells you that, for the first five years at least, children's conversation is repetitively boring.

There have been points where I felt like pouring boiling hot soup into my ears just to avoid having to hear the entire itinerary of trains from Sutton to Victoria via Mitcham Junction one more time. 

Quite why he has memorised that I don't know but it's like working in a train station: "Cheam, Sutton, Carshalton, Hackbridge, 'itcham Junction, 'itcham Eesfields, Balham, Clapp-am Junction and London V'toria. All Change For V'toria Line." Every day, from the moment he wakes up. And it often demands applause.

It's cute, yes. But if I had £1 for every time I have heard him say this, I could have bought Hargreaves Lansdown at its current valuation.

And pointing the remote at the back of his head and trying to mute him doesn't work, either, though absent-mindedly I have tried this at least 20 times in the past few months. 

Covid-19 has taught us that anyone, anywhere, can become vulnerable - and for any reason.

Some advisers – and some adviser clients - will have had to deal with childcare and home-schooling issues of their own over the past 12 months. But this is just one example of how the pandemic has forced us to reconfigure our sense of who we are and how we live – at least in the short-term.

No two sets of circumstances will be the same, but at a hectic time, there are common consequences. Feeling vulnerable is one of them.

I need peace and quiet to get on with my writing. I need to have head space to set out my editorial strategy for the next few months. I find it embarrassing to tell people NOT to call me at certain times - a journalist should be available all the time, right? 

On top of this there is the new preference for video meetings, which I not only have to arrange around his daycare but also make sure I've brushed my hair - a luxury I don't have much time for. 

In addition to this I'm constantly in demand; I do my elderly mother's shopping and help her get her bills sorted so she doesn't have to go out.

I'm making meals and providing food boxes for local people who are in desperate need of them. I'm attempting to keep on top of the housework. I'm caring for people at all points on the spectrum. Sometimes my well is almost empty, like the widow's pot of oil. Miraculously, the pot has not run dry so far.

On paper, I might not look like vulnerable. I'm pretty strong-minded - a roll-the-sleeves-up-and-get-on-with-it kinda person. I don't let negative words bother me and I'm not easily ruffled or overly sensitive. I don't have any disabilities and I'm in employment.

I have savings (liquid and otherwise). I wouldn't be turned away for a second mortgage and I wouldn't be written off for life insurance. 

But I know how easy it can be for one or two small straws to put pressure on that proverbial camel's back. The past 12 months have demonstrated how a confluence of additional stresses and events can easily tip someone over the edge and into hardship.

This is why it is vital to consider your own vulnerabilities as well as those of your clients. You can't support other people when you need support yourself. You can't always be expected to be strong for other people; you have to sometimes shelter yourself. 

A truth that applies as much to financial advisers as it does for your clients: you need to make time for yourselves as well as for your clients and your families. Otherwise you will face burn-out.

The work that has been done by advisers during the pandemic has, in the main, been exceptional. Advisers have gone over and above to help clients, especially those who have been isolated the past year or so - arranging online deliveries, picking up prescriptions, sending tablets and laptops, becoming tech experts to ensure clients can communicate over the internet. 

But amid all this, it is important to carve out some time out where you can recharge your own batteries. 

Covid-19 has taught us that anyone, anywhere, can become vulnerable - and for any reason. This is why it is important to accept your own weaknesses.

And why it's important to find that time for yourself - even if it involves hiding behind a fridge from your children. Believe me, they'll find you soon enough.