How Small Acts Build Big Impact: A Mental Health Perspective from Inverness
This week, watching the British and Irish Lions' opening match before their Australia tour, I found myself reflecting on more than just rugby. My thoughts turned to connection, leadership and legacy, especially the pressing need for coach Andy Farrell to create cohesion among his team of superstars. This reflection led me down a path to Sir Ian McGeechan and a brilliant episode of the High Performance podcast with Jake Humphrey. McGeechan spoke with warmth and clarity about the vital importance of connection – getting to know your players, understanding them, and seeing the person beyond the player.
If you know anything about McGeechan, you’ll know he was a teacher before becoming a world-class rugby coach. As a teacher myself, now turning 50, I sometimes wonder if I’m too old to start something new. It’s a strange feeling – the desire to change lanes while still carrying everything from the last journey. Jake Humphrey also reflected on aging and legacy; at 46, a mere "whippersnapper," even he’s starting to feel the pull of purpose. Then I recall: in the Roman Republic, 50 was considered the prime age for a consul. Maybe I’m right on time.
Still, doubts surface. Teaching has been a huge part of my identity for over 20 years, and I sometimes cringe at how that might be viewed as I position myself in the business world. "Just a primary school teacher" doesn’t sound like a fast track to mental health consultancy.
But then I remember: I’ve spent two decades building young people’s confidence, listening deeply, and making wellbeing practical. That’s now the heart of what I offer through my mental health training in Inverness and beyond.
This brings me back to something Nick de Luca, the former Scotland internationlist said: how you do the small things is how you do all things. In primary education, we deal with small things every day – simplifying a fraction, writing a kind note, helping a child work through conflict. Yet, those small things shape something much bigger: how young people see themselves, how they frame fear rather than fight it, and how they respond to challenges.
At school, these past few weeks have been full of small moments that carried significant weight for me. Just before our inter-school sports championships, I led the team through a short session of one positive affirmation and visualization on dealing with pressure. It took under five minutes. Why? Because under the gaze of a crowd, those children needed something to ground them. A tool. Something small. Something useful.
And that’s the approach I now bring to businesses through my practical mental health strategies – short, meaningful tools that people can actually use under pressure.
During our school Resilience Day, I introduced a ‘Fix-It Dial’ – a tool that gave children options for how to respond when feeling stuck or upset: take five deep breaths, ask for help (something some adults should do more), say something kind to someone, say something kind to yourself, try something different, and try again. These tiny decisions become building blocks for self-awareness and emotional resilience.
That same dial now supports my adult learners during MHFA training with a difference – sessions that don’t stop at certificates but equip people with real-life tools.
In class, we explored identity and self-concept through activities like ‘My Strengths, My World, My Dreams.’ We talked about facing challenge, naming emotions, and reframing setbacks. These are strategies they’ll hopefully carry for life. And it’s in those moments, when a child discovers a new mindset, that I feel like I’m helping with something big.
In my workplace wellbeing sessions, I aim for that same shift – helping people see they already have inner strength; they just need support unlocking it.
I was also struck by a recent conversation with one of my five-a-side teammates. We got onto the topic of mental health, and he spoke with real openness about his past struggles. What stuck with me was when he said, "I knew what was wrong. I just didn’t have the tools to fix it." That’s the heart of it, isn’t it? Helping people build the toolkit they need – whether they’re ten years old or forty-six.
That’s why I created the Compass Check – a workplace mental health audit to help organizations assess what’s in place and what’s missing.
Like many of us, I carry the voices of past mentors - the tools they handed down to us. My old rugby coach still walks with me, even now. I had that realization standing on the start line of the dads’ race at my daughter’s school, hearing his voice in my head. It gave me comfort. It gave me courage. It reminded me I could do hard things. Something small – but it helped.
That’s why I love rugby. When played and coached well, it’s the ultimate team sport. Watch Ian McGeechan address his Lions squad in 1997. There’s no razzmatazz, just a quiet, steady voice that says: "You are special." Those players listened. The results of that tour speak for themselves – but the foundations were built on connection.
That’s what I aim for in my Inverness-based mental health workshops – to build cultures of trust, psychological safety, and belonging.
I’ll finish with a moment from my son’s school. Each morning, either the head teacher or deputy head stands at the front door and greets every pupil as they arrive. Each and every one. That’s connection. That’s a small thing that makes a big difference. And I made a point of thanking the head teacher – not just for the morning greetings, but for creating a platform where his brilliant staff can truly perform.
It’s how we do the small things that makes the big things possible. It’s how we make meaningful connections with those around us - and lasting connections with those who have and continue to inspire us. It’s how we connect the dots of our past experience to our present and to our future adventures.
Setting up this new business has made me connect to the very strategies I teach. I’ve had to use my own Fix-It Dial more times than I can count: ask for help, say something kind to myself, take five deep breaths, try something different, write the problem down (this blog!). And when it gets choppy? I remind myself of one more strategy I would add to my own dial: keep rowing the boat.
