Most of my work involves executive coaching and consulting to leaders regarding change, developing leadership teams, innovating in the work place and the like. I also work with a small number of psychotherapy patients, because I love to see people blossom regardless of the garden’s name or location. Sometimes, maybe often, the learning from one garden applies to the other.
This post is one such example. It is about learning to be with and hold the intensity of life – alone, something leaders have to do but not among the competencies we often discuss.
The Rewired Brain
The other day a patient lamented, “I wish Peter [her husband] could appreciate how much I’ve changed. I’ve rewired my brain. I can feel it. I know it looks different in there. I wish I could show him before and after pictures.” She’s right. She has over-ridden and overwritten well worn neural pathways and created new ones. She no longer travels the Highway of Anxiety or the Mile of Fear. A year ago, she was afraid to open her door at night and terrified by noises in the dark. Overwhelmed by demands of caring for her one year old son and other facets of adult life, she fled to her parents’ home daily. She now travels along streets named I Can Do This and It’s Cool to Be an Adult. I most enjoy watching her move on down I’m Loving My Life Road.
Now What?
What about her lament, her desire for others to recognize the degree and intensity of change with her? “That’s the next step, learning to hold all the emotion yourself, without the need for others to know or appreciate. Sometimes it’s only for you.” I explained.
I learned this from my practice supervisor years ago when he said,”Being a psychologist is a very lonely profession.” I was surprised. How could I be lonely when I have such intimate conversations with people? He went on, “You have spectacular moments. You can be awe-struck at times, but you can never share the experience. You have to learn to hold it and to be with the loneliness.” He was right. There have been times I’ve sat in my office after a patient leaves, unable to move from the chair. I have unsent tear stained letters written to patients when our work and our relationship ends. I write them for myself as a way to “hold” and at the same time “release” the experience.
This holding is a tough one, totally do-able but an odd kind of loneliness not marked by sadness, just alone-ness. It’s a muscle many of us don’t learn to exercise, to be alone with our thoughts and our feelings without acting on the urge to tell, to share.
But there is a reward. Held thoughts and feelings morph. They produce.
Try it. You might like it.
All-one. Alone.
The Leader’s Loneliness
Leadership is also a lonely sport. It demands the ability to hold life, at times without solace, comfort or sharing.
I was thinking about this the other day, when news of Osama Bin Laden’s death was reported. I pictured the public appearances President Obama made during the days leading up to this event, knowing all the while what was about to take place. Meantime, he had other presidential duties to perform, and he did so without ever appearing to be a man holding the tension of what was unfolding.
To see an actual demonstration, watch this video of President Obama addressing The White House Correspondent’s dinner that took place a few days before the invasion. Please do enjoy the humor while you watch.