Archive for the Non-fiction Category

Mirrors: Thoughts on Self-Acceptance and Forgiveness

Posted in Non-fiction with tags , , , on July 27, 2013 by becciseaborne

Distorted image mirrorThe lost soul

When Amy Winehouse died almost exactly 2 years ago, the inevitability of how she died raised issues around addiction and self-destruction. These matters periodically make their way into the public consciousness, mostly in relation to celebrities and talented artists, such as Pete Doherty and others. We have a perpetual and morbid interest in a subject which is at the same time both unsettling, yet confirms our own position of relative stability and normality, whatever that means.

For my own part, although I had no personal connection, I felt a real sadness that a young, fragile person had just kind of slipped off the planet before she had even got a grasp of it. She had a truly fantastic voice, and was evidently talented, yet “troubled” – that cliché that means everything and nothing. Her drug and alcohol problems and her stints in rehab had received much media attention. One obituary noted that her pre-existing insecurities, rather than diminishing once she achieved such acclaim, only grew and fed the self destruction (“Razor sharp, Winehouse changed the music scene for ever”, The Independent on Sunday, 24 July 2011). It was this that caught my attention.


Broken mirror reflectionSelf-perception

In the face of world-wide praise and celebrity a talented, intelligent and engaging young woman seemed to become less of herself. She retreated and seemed to struggle with the identity which her talent surely entitled her to claim. Something about the praise and attention didn’t fit with her. I believe that far from being abnormal, her struggle was a universal human response where there is a gap between self-perception and what others hold up for us to see. Of course the full extent of her behaviour and its consequences are less inevitable, but it does seem to me that she had quite a common sense of being unworthy of the attention she was receiving.

About five or six years ago I met someone who had a similar and very evident dislike of praise or positive attention. It’s a completely different story, but at the same time the underlying issues are similar. I met this man when he was released from prison having served a long sentence for child sex abuse. My role was as one of five volunteers who would meet with him on a weekly basis to work on relapse prevention and offer practical and moral support. The aim was to prevent further victims by guiding him to keep to his relapse prevention plan and to stop him from feeling isolated – a major trigger for dangerous thought patterns and behaviour. This reduces re-offending.

He had been abused as a young boy himself and was used by circle of abusers to recruit other boys his own age. This, put together with his own offending as an adult, and the significant amount of time he had spent in the criminal justice system as a sex offender meant he had built a self-image and identity as a bad person who needed to be punished. There’s no doubt that his crimes were awful and needed to be atoned for. The premise of the voluntary work, though, is that it’s the behaviour which is bad and not the person. In other words, one person is not merely the sum of all the bad things they have ever done. Most of us are able to realise this, mainly through the forgiveness of others for those transgressions that would otherwise cause guilt and maybe eat away at us. Forgiveness allows self-acceptance and we are consequently able to maintain a healthy self-image.

Socially constructed distortionBut for sex offenders there is no forgiveness. They are demonised and stigmatised by every corner of society. And that mirror we hold up to them becomes how they view themselves. So the man I met a few years ago was someone who believed himself to be utterly without good and totally unworthy of anyone’s time, respect or kindness. He didn’t believe that he was entitled to have anything good happen to him.

Some may argue that he didn’t, but the point here is that this fuels distorted thinking patterns which justify the offending behaviour. In other words it makes re-offending more likely, and no-one wants that.


Dissonant image mirror

A new mirror

As time went by we all built up quite a rapport with him and we agreed we wanted to hold up a different mirror for him, a positive one that he could aspire to. So praising achievement and positive attitudes was just as important as challenging negative behaviour and unhealthy thought patterns. He certainly proved himself worthy of both at times. More often than not there was something positive to say, though and we noticed that he seemed to really struggle with this. We talked about it to find out what was going on for him, and it turned out to be pretty simple really; he just didn’t feel worthy of the praise he was being offered; he didn’t see himself in the mirror.

On one occasion this almost led to serious problems. He was struggling to keep to his relapse prevention plan, and although he was doing everything “right” on the face of it, he was having some unhealthy – and risky – thoughts and feelings. He wasn’t talking about these and so they were going unchecked. This meant that while we were saying well done for all the things he was achieving, he was churning over this huge dissonance between appearances and reality. He knew he was getting into murky water, and that things weren’t right. The gap was widening and the guilt he felt about it was probably making it a lot worse too, building the pressure.


Butterfly mirrorMaking the image fit: self-acceptance

It could have gone one of two ways, but fortunately for everyone, he chose the safe option and confessed what was going on. Of course we then had a lot of discussions about how we could make it easier for him to talk about these issues in future so that he didn’t get backed into a corner again. We were also more cautious and more specific about the praise we gave to him. He said it was awful being told how great everything was when he knew that really there was a big problem. Over many months we were able to support him in growing into this new identity, and eventually he came to accept the idea of himself as a person worthy of a normal life. To date he has not re-offended.

The point is, really, that all that positive attention and praise being received by someone who perceives themselves as being unworthy of it can have completely the opposite effect to that which is intended. Maybe Amy Winehouse – on a different level and for completely different reasons – felt the same. Maybe she couldn’t see herself in the mirror that the world was holding up to her. One of Amy’s friend and collaborator, Mark Ronson, talked about how she hated people “gushing” over her or enthusing about her success, how it would make her “shrivel up”, or run away.


What are we meant to do when we find ourselves in a situation like that? Some people like what they see in that mirror and they make it work for them; there are those successful A-list celebrities that exemplify this. But if you don’t recognise or relate to the image the world is showing you of yourself, how do you make sense of it? For Amy, she just wasn’t the person everyone else thought she was. She was just Amy Winehouse, with a sharp wit to fill in the gaps where her self esteem should have been, and when that didn’t work any more because the gaps got bigger, she found drugs and alcohol. There are many, many of those talented and imperfect people who exemplify this, too. Most of them are dead. And nearly all of those died way too young. If they had been able to find a route to self-acceptance – and in some cases self-forgiveness too – maybe they would still be here.

Are Criminal Justice Contracts Viable?

Posted in Non-fiction with tags , on July 12, 2013 by becciseaborne

justice scales and gavelPrivate Sector Companies and Tagging

Many of the responses to last week’s exposure of overcharging on the Government’s tagging contracts have called into question the current plans to contract out much of the Probation Service. Parts of the Criminal Justice System (CJS) have been contracted out for quite some time now and Serco and G4S have received high profile coverage a number of times on these and other Government contracts.  But are CJS contracts actually viable? It is the Ministry of Justice’s (MoJ) role to manage and monitor CJS contracts but are they always capable of doing so effectively?

Tagging and prisoner transportation are not the only CJS services delivered by a contracted provider. From May 2010 until April this year I was a manager in London for the Bail Accommodation and Support Service (BASS) – a national contract run by Stonham on behalf of the Ministry of Justice. Stonham is part of Home Group Ltd, and began life when three Midlands-based housing charities working with offenders merged in the 1970’s. In other words it is a third sector organisation; not-for-profit.

Bail Accommodation and Support Service

BASS was commissioned by the MoJ in 2007 and was at first run by ClearSprings, who experienced some fairly negative media attention, not least of which after a client was murdered in one of the BASS properties they were managing in Stockton in 2009. That contract ran out in 2010 and it was then that Stonham took over, following a competitive tender process.

We worked closely with Serco, who have the tagging contract in London, to share information that both parties needed in order to fulfil our contractual obligations. This was done under an information sharing protocol approved by MoJ. I found these processes to work well, although often Serco had not been made aware by the courts of changes in a client’s circumstances or of a court order for a tag to be fitted. Sometimes they received this information from us before they received it from the court.

We also had to work closely with several other parts of the CJS – we relied on them for crucial information, which impacted on our ability to meet our contract terms. This included court and prison staff, amongst others, and was always challenging. There are so many different parts of the CJS, some more silo’d than others. Each has a defined role, and each a specific framework and complex set of systems governing their operation to fulfil that role. These do not always dovetail even within the CJS, let alone with third party providers. Often – though not always – the professionals involved were engaged and willing to work in partnership, but the “system” was regularly a hindrance. Occasionally some individuals were less than enabling, for various reasons.

Success Relies on Exemplary Contract Management

The point I’m making is that, as with everything, what you get out of a system or a contract is only ever as good as what you put in. That includes people, processes and information. This is why contract management is so crucial. Of course this starts with the way in which contracts are set up, and many have commented that the tagging contracts were not established adequately. It also extends through the life of the contract and relies heavily on the skill and knowledge of the individual contract manager.

Contract management is a specialist skill. Managing contracts in the CJS is a specialist skill within a specialist area of work within a complex and politically sensitive environment. Not only this, the consequences of getting it wrong are serious; public safety is at stake. It is not sufficient to have sound knowledge and experience of operational delivery of the service at hand in order to manage a contract; the skill of contract management goes far beyond this. It often requires a capacity for forensic interrogation of data, combined with extensive experience in the field of work and sound and intimate knowledge of the specific contract terms. Balanced alongside this, it requires the ability to stand back from the skeleton of the data and facts, and to look at information in its qualitative context to see what is “really happening”.

Can we Afford to Trust MoJ’s Contract Management Capability?

Whilst I support the principles of innovation and mixed-economy, I’m not sure that I have unerring confidence in any government’s ability to consistently meet contract management standards to the high levels that are required for such complex and significant services. During the last three years working for BASS there were re-organisations in the National Offender Management Service that affected those people managing the BASS contract. There were several changes in personnel, and the internal imperatives of the MoJ and NOMS arguably impacted on the monitoring and interaction between contractor and commissioner.

If any of these factors have been in evidence in the Serco and G4S tagging contracts, then arguably the Government is at least partly to blame for things going awry. It has already been noted that they were aware of potential over-charging as early as 2008.

There are many, many reasons why the transforming rehabilitation strategy should be re-evaluated (at the very least the timescales involved), but the issues exposed by the tagging contracts add significant evidence to the case for the defence of the public Probation Service.

Twitter: @BecciSeaborne


Posted in Non-fiction with tags on October 29, 2012 by becciseaborne

Sometimes it’s the small things that make reality bite. For me it was a hug. From someone I get hugs from all the time. But not all hugs are the same, are they?

I’m on the bus to Heathrow, bound for four weeks in Zimbabwe volunteering at an animal orphanage. Yesterday, as my sister left the pub after we shared drinks with a few friends, we said our goodbyes and hugged. It wasn’t a casual au revoir type hug; it was a proper, tight, lovely, warm, meaningful hug. Suddenly I came crashing down to Earth with a bang. She’s worried for me and will miss me and that brings the reality of my trip into sharp focus for me. She talks, tells me to take care, all the usual things. She hugs me again. Tighter. She repeats this at least twice more. Shit. I’m about to cry. I make a crap, dismissive joke.

I really don’t like goodbyes, which means I have a tendency to not manage them particularly well. Before leaving work at the end of August to take my sabbatical leave, I spectacularly failed to say an important goodbye to a colleague. Sue and I had worked closely for the full year that I’d been doing the job; she was the administration team leader supporting me and my management team; I trusted her implicitly and relied on her professionalism, judgement, compassion and commitment all the time. I couldn’t have done the job without her. On top of this we got on really well, we had a great laugh too. I knew I’d miss her so much and was dreading the moment that required a proper goodbye, explaining how important she had been to me. I’m not good with emotions.

I gave Sue a thank-you-cum-goodbye card earlier in the week, but kept delaying the moment of actual goodbye – I had meetings and visits away from our office and would say “I’ll pop back in on my way home tomorrow to finish clearing out my in-tray, I’ll see you then”. In the end I was meant to do this on my last day too, but got held up in London and knew I wouldn’t make it back in time. I rang her to have a last chat and say goodbye. After my sabbatical I’m returning to a different role, so I won’t be working with Sue again.

I tried to say thank you and that I’d miss her but the words got stuck. Then a really weird noise came out of my throat and I had to hold the phone away from me for fear she might think I was being garrotted. I was crying like a child! Really big crying with noisy, struggling-to-breathe-properly type gasping to boot. In the end I did manage to say what I wanted to, but it took a while and I had to navigate the words carefully so as not to set myself off again! Sue was great, although she must have thought I was a complete nutter (to be fair, I think she already did). The fact is I’d spent so long trying not to acknowledge what was going to happen because I didn’t want to think about it, that in the end it all just came splurging out anyway, in an incredibly undignified manner. Very predictable really, but there’s nothing like surprising yourself with the inevitable from time to time.

I haven’t improved at goodbyes much since then, although I was a bit better this time. I’m a bit tearful as I write this sitting on the bus, but I have managed to keep it together – more or less – for the various goodbyes I’ve said over the last few days. I have a lot to look forwards to: new places, new people, a whole new experience, and loads of photo and blog opportunities! There’s also plenty I’ll be missing here in the UK; a friend is due to give birth on 5th November, my sister’s just got a new dog, my cat will miss our little routines. Life goes on wherever else you may be though, and it will all still be here when I get back. So now that I’m on my way, I’m losing some of the trepidation I had started to feel, and I’m relaxing into a slightly unfamiliar feeling of pure excitement.

There are just so many things my next post could be about!

The Vegetarian Butcher

Posted in Non-fiction with tags on September 14, 2012 by becciseaborne

At the beginning of this year I accidentally became a vegetarian. Well, I suppose you don’t accidentally stop eating meat and begin scouring restaurant menus for non-meat dishes that aren’t mushroom risotto. But it really wasn’t planned in the same way as, say, buying a car or choosing a holiday destination. And I am a pretty unlikely candidate; I worked in a butchers’ shop for 5 years and have basically been a card-carrying carnivore since the moment I was able to get a spoonful of pureed beef casserole down my neck. In fact it’s so uncharacteristic that just the other day – 9 months after making the switch – my sister cooked me sausages for breakfast. I had to politely decline and ask for scrambled egg on toast instead.

So, why such a dramatic decision? The truth is I’ve been thinking about it for years. It’s something I’d pondered for so long it had become one of those familiar, comforting conversations I could have with myself when the other voices in my head got too boring or stressful. So in some ways the simple answer is that I decided to stop just thinking about it, and get on and do it.

The real reason, though, is the one that got me thinking about it in the first place. That is down to a very simple equation involving the planet’s resources, the amount of food that it can produce and how many people’s lives can be sustained from that. For ages I’ve done the “right thing” and recycled all my rubbish and bought eco-friendly cleaning products, etc. blah. In other words I’ve done all the easy things that make you think you’re doing your bit – and they are all worthwhile, but I got to the point where it all felt a bit superficial. I just thought it wouldn’t kill me to do a bit more.

I am the sort of person that likes a bit of a challenge; I like to test myself. Whilst training for my first marathon a few years ago I developed a serious back problem and ended up on the chiropractor’s table three times a week. Nothing could have motivated me more to keep training. My chiropractor even ended up giving me about two-thirds of my treatment free, he was so impressed with my (foolhardiness?) commitment. So, as a card-carrying carnivore, what could be more of a challenge than going veggie? Well, going vegan clearly, but let’s not get too carried away.

Despite my meat-loving ways, I didn’t tend to cook with meat all that much at home due to the cost, so I thought I’d give vegetarianism a whirl. Why not? I did also hope it would challenge me in the cooking department. I’m a pretty good cook, thanks to an amazing mum who’s a fantastic cook and shared her love of food and cooking with us as we grew up. However, I wanted to make myself look at new ideas in the kitchen, and more importantly some healthier ones. A stupidly busy working life meant that I’d often get home knackered and end up with the all too easy meat-and-carb option, in various different forms. Part of what I wanted from going veggie was to pull me out of that culinary rut.

So, two questions I guess; has it been difficult and have I achieved a healthier diet? It’s been a great deal easier than I thought it would be. I don’t miss or crave meat – I never miss it at home, and only occasionally “notice” it when eating out. I don’t tend to get food envy when eating out with friends, although I am a bit of a voyeur; my contrary nature rearing its head there. I do have to confess a couple of occasions when I’ve been really conscious of my self-imposed meat ban…how can anyone resist the smell of a Greek barbecue?  Yes, I did end up eating fish from the grill whilst on holiday in Kefalonia, and I don’t regret it. It was local and line-caught, and if that sounds like a justification it probably is, but in terms of sustainability I reckon the planet can handle me eating fish once every two or three months.

And what about being healthier? Well that’s still a work in progress, and maybe something I’ll consider in more detail another time.

View from one of the many tavernas offering fine barbecue fare on Kefalonia