Every Global Citizen's Tale from Burnout to Wellbeing

This is my immigrant story of making it in the City of London and wrecking my brain in the process. There's a happy ending, of course.

I’m Jill Heins, and I’m a proud Filipino-born British citizen living in London. As a child growing up in the hill town of Antipolo, I discovered very quickly that I had an overactive mind. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I found my family, my neighbours, and local environment uninteresting. I often escaped to the roof of my house to raise myself from the world below, daydreaming of imagined worlds and adventures. Otherwise I would head to the local library to desperately devour any information available on what else is out there. Graduating from University, I soon realised that even Manila, the capital city of the Philippines, could not hold my curiosity, love of learning and ambition for very long.

On my first trip to London, I distinctly remember an encounter of being on the top deck of a hop-on-hop-off bus tour. As we took a turn towards Trafalgar Square and it revealed all its majesty, I made the decision that the only way I could be truly happy in life is if I moved here. Within 2 years, I hustled my way into employment. After marrying my German husband, I obtained my Indefinite Leave to Remain. Finally, in 5 years, after a 150-page application on why I deserve to belong here, I was sworn in as a British Citizen at the Newham Town Hall.

But the citizenship wasn’t enough. To be a real Londoner, you need to make your mark here. Ironically, although the arts, theatre, and learning opportunities were what drew me to the City, I had to drop all of that to pursue a singular focus - to make it big. I became the Talent Development Director for the Asset Management business of UBS, a Wealth Management Bank. I then moved to HSBC, where I was the Global Head of Talent Management I later became the head of the Training Consulting Function of Ernst & Young for Europe. I was in the Advisory Council of the Harvard Business Review. I had the 6-figure salary, the glass office on the 21st Floor, and my name at the top of the org chart. It’s the pinnacle of success for a Londoner.

However, as you’re probably predicting already, this achievement came at a cost. In 2018, on a flight back from Switzerland, I woke up suddenly feeling as if my heart was about to explode. Gasping for air, I ran to the back where an air hostesses strapped an oxygen mask on my face. When we landed, I was lifted into an ambulance on the tarmac and brought to A&E. I was diagnosed with burnout, a Generalised Anxiety Disorder and a Panic Disorder. According to the doctor, my nervous system had been so constantly over-activated that that my autonomic functions (heartbeat and breathing) began to break down. It was frightening to realise that it had to get this bad for me to listen to my exhausted body’s need for rest.

From that turning point, I wrestled with the symptoms of mental illness. Anytime I was in an enclosed space, the heart-attack feeling came rushing back. I couldn’t take any flights, trains, the Tube, or elevators. Even going into the bathroom of my own home sent my heart racing. My shining reputation as a high performer also started to disintegrate. I became too afraid to go into sales calls, high buildings, and work trips. After 18 years of upward career mobility, I quit my job for “mental health reasons”. Something had to be done. I enlisted a Psychologist for Cognitive Behaviour Therapy to teach me how to talk back to my mind chatter, expose myself to panic-inducing situations, and overcome my fear.

Despite my efforts, progress was elusive. For over 2 years, I dedicated myself to overcoming my anxiety. Many hours and hundreds of thousands of pounds were spent on therapy, mental health books, and exposure work. But instead of my symptoms becoming easier, they became stronger and more frequent over time. My life kept narrowing to the point that I mostly confined myself to the safety of my home. One evening, my husband was overseas for a Triathlon event. I was alone, and it was dark in the house. I remember staring out into the window, the glittering City of London skyline in full view. There in front of me was my dream, and I was here, trapped in a box, powerless to reach it. No matter how rich, intelligence, and capable I was, I found no way out of this disease. For a split moment, I honestly thought of ending it all. Thankfully, the following morning, I woke up with better sense. I decided to meet with a new private GP to find a better solution.

This key decision finally led to answers. A revealing annual check-up showed that my therapist had been stringing me along longer than she should have, as my Black Bupa membership just kept signing the check. More importantly, my new GP explained that doing Cognitive Behaviour Therapy without taking any anxiety medication to address my neurohormone imbalance was utterly useless. Bupa, my old GP, and my therapist had all failed to advise me that I needed both medication and therapy to cure my illness. My new GP eventually referred me to a Psychiatrist who prescribed Sertraline. After 2 long years on the pill, I finally went into remission. I am happy to say that I am now Anxiety and Panic free. But to this day, I will never forget the injustice of this whole experience. When I was at my most vulnerable, I was exploited by the people that I trusted the most to heal me. The health system of this country that I had fought so hard to belong to has failed me.

That’s why I shifted my career to wellbeing consulting, training and coaching. Most of the systems that are meant to support the mental health of global citizens - corporations, the NHS, communities - are struggling with the weight of the mental health crisis. The pervading model for mental health in this country is still reactive, so most these systems will wait until you’re mentally ill until they help you.

As global citizens, it is up to us to develop our own wellbeing skills. Whether you’re newly arrived, slogging away towards citizenship, or fully integrated, it doesn’t get any easier as an immigrant. Minefields are everywhere, experiencing failure is inevitable, and the only thing constant is change. Equipping ourselves with the right skills to bounce back when we encounter adversity is our best hope of fending off mental illness. Once it takes hold, as you now know, the price is high. No matter how much time or money you spend on doctors’ fees, treatments, and medication, you’ll never fully get your life back. Trust me on this.

This is also why I started my company, the Flourishing Labs, to make wellbeing skills more accessible to everyone, especially those who have barriers to support and whose mental health has been disrupted. All human beings deserve to not just be free of disease but to be happy, healthy, and have a vibrant, thriving life.

People often ask me, “Jill, looking back, if you knew all this would happen, do you think you would have moved to London?” I wrestled with this question a lot. For a time, the answer that came to me was No. But then I’m reminded that nothing worth having is easily attained. My birthplace was the Philippines. But I’ve lived long enough in London, Sydney, Cape Town, and New York to embody that I’m a member of humanity and an inhabitant of this Earth. I am worthy and deserving to pursue happiness, success, and belonging wherever I choose. I have 4,000 weeks in this lifetime, and I only get one. So the answer is Yes. Every time. I hope the answer is the same for you.