I’ve now asked thousands of people in workshops and conferences to imagine seeking help for a significant problem that they would rather not talk to anyone about but have been unable to resolve it by themselves. What kind of helper would you want to go see? What qualities would they have? How would you want to feel talking with this person? And in over fifteen years of asking this question, I have never once heard:

“I’d want to see someone who follows a manual”. 

“I’d want someone who expects me to set goals in the first appointment.”

“I’d want to see a helper who’s so overworked they’re burning out”.

“I’d want them to assume they know more than me.”

“I’d want someone who gives up on me when I feel stuck and tells me to return when I’m ready.”

“I’d want them to be dismissive when they find out I’ve been doing my own research on the issue.”

“I’d want to see three different people for intake, assessment and treatment.”

“I’d want someone who spends the time filling in forms.”

I could continue but we already know what people want – it’s pretty much what we want. We want to see someone who wants to see us, is present and gives us their full attention. We want to be seen, heard and understood. We want to be accepted and taken seriously by someone who is non judgemental and treats us as an equal. We want someone who is skilled and has something to offer, but is also curious about what we have to offer. We want someone who is genuine and caring, with healthy boundaries and is responsive to our individual differences.

It can sound like we want a miracle, a zen-like mystical creature who is all knowing and can read our minds. But maybe what we really want is a conversation with another human who is well-rested, well-supported and well-trained, and knows we matter, they matter and the work matters. Because we can work it out together from there.

Professional athletes and keen amateurs will be familiar with the idea of deload week – a planned block of lower intensity training to support recovery and overall improvement. When you look at how hard they train every other week, you’d think it would be a relief, like a cheat meal or a well deserved luxury.

But deload week is surprisingly unpopular. It feels like slacking off or, worse, that the recent gains might be lost. For many it’s a learned discipline to follow the programme rather than sneaking in extra training when the coach isn’t looking.

People in the helping professions and carer roles are often the same. It’s easier to go full intensity, past the point of risking burnout, than to build in ways to sustain our energy for the long haul. By the time we get to holidays, we’re usually long so overdue for rest that we spend most of the time recovering. And weekends, lunch breaks and sick days aren’t enough to do more than catch our breath or hit a brief pause.

Yet taking time for intentional periods of reduced effort can enhance our overall performance, often in surprising ways. It’s not just a week to prioritise sleep and consciously aiming for ‘good enough’ rather than all-out effort. These weeks can foster creative thinking, integrate prior learning and reclaim joy, not just for you but for the people around you.

Like with athletes, it takes time, experimentation and learning to sit with the initial discomfort of feeling like we’re not doing enough. It might take trial and error to find the best version for our lives right now. We might start small with just a few hours or a day, and then build up. We can schedule it into our diary, listen to our body, vary intensity or deliberately book in more enjoyable parts of our work for that week. However we do it, the real benefit comes when we learn to deload before we desperately need it.