your life. But it’s
not like you solve a couple and then you’re done. Two hundred and twenty some are waiting in the wings. Ones you can’t even
see or feel yet. You don’t even know they’re problems yet.”
She’s doing that too-close thing again, looking into my eyes as if she can’t go on until she finds some kind of permission
in there.
“Do you understand?” she asks. “Andy’s looking for access to the person named Steven. Nobody’s had that for… well…”
“Maybe ever,” I finish, giving Andy a glance. “It’s not the first time it’s been mentioned.”
“Yes, nobody’s had that for maybe ever,” she repeats. “And all of this takes time. It’s maddening if you’re trying to fix
this or that before anyone has access. Andy wants to stand
with
you in your issues. Because he knows nothing will change otherwise. So he’s got to somehow—and here’s the magic—create an
environment where you’ll feel safe enough. And I’m guessing that you, Steven, aren’t nearly there yet, are you, dear?”
“Why do you say that?” I ask. “How do you know that? I’m here, aren’t I?”
She puts her hand on mine. “Why don’t you tell me? As much as Andy’s gotten inside the wire on you a couple of times, hasn’t
this thought crossed your mind more than once?
This has been pretty nice. Maybe just getting away from my world a few times will help clear my head, give me some perspective.
But it’s probably the last time I’ll get together with this guy. He’s interesting and even has some insights that might actually
help
—
if I weren’t a rising executive but a marina operator.
Hmm?”
After a pause, looking away from Andy, I quietly answer, “Maybe a little.”
She is silent again, still studying me.
“Yeah,
maybe
. See, Steven, you’re the last person anyone should listen to about solutions for you because you’ve got it all distorted
and you’re convinced you’re right. You live twenty-four hours a day in your self-contained world, where everything is about
appearances, performance, bottom lines, leverage, and control. But the truth is, as confident as you try to appear, my guess
is you don’t feel adequate for the job. Don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty sure you’re
all that
, but you’re not sure everyone else agrees. So, you’re worried, afraid that you’re failing. You even blame yourself. But VPs
aren’t supposed to condemn themselves. “So you create this world where on one hand you hate yourself for what you suspect
is true, and on the other hand you idealize yourself and blame others for not acknowledging the brilliance of this idealized
person. Both of these make you blind to what God might be trying to tell you. And that’s when the lights go out and you start
tripping over end tables.”
“Okay, hold on for a second,” I say, shaking my head. “Cynthia, you’re a lot of work, do you know that?”
“You’re right, Steven. Look at me talking too much.” She starts to get up, restacking pages she’d spread out at the table.
“I should be writing. Instead, I’m meddling.”
“No, it’s not that. Please, sit back down.” I wait until she does before saying, “It’s just that I’m realizing it might not
be best to drink when I’m with you all.”
We all laugh.
“Steven, may I continue, then? This will only take a couple moments. I’m almost done with everything I know.”
“Swing away,” I say, sweeping my hand in her direction.
“Okay. So, my young friend, I would guess this has been your game plan so far. It’s really quite funny when you step back
and look at it. Maybe not so funny when it happens to be you. Anyway, try this on. You take a stab at figuring out your junk.
But it doesn’t bring any resolution. So you rehearse it, over and over. Still nothing. Then you find some allies you can explain
your version of reality to. Maybe you get some temporary relief but still no
not like you solve a couple and then you’re done. Two hundred and twenty some are waiting in the wings. Ones you can’t even
see or feel yet. You don’t even know they’re problems yet.”
She’s doing that too-close thing again, looking into my eyes as if she can’t go on until she finds some kind of permission
in there.
“Do you understand?” she asks. “Andy’s looking for access to the person named Steven. Nobody’s had that for… well…”
“Maybe ever,” I finish, giving Andy a glance. “It’s not the first time it’s been mentioned.”
“Yes, nobody’s had that for maybe ever,” she repeats. “And all of this takes time. It’s maddening if you’re trying to fix
this or that before anyone has access. Andy wants to stand
with
you in your issues. Because he knows nothing will change otherwise. So he’s got to somehow—and here’s the magic—create an
environment where you’ll feel safe enough. And I’m guessing that you, Steven, aren’t nearly there yet, are you, dear?”
“Why do you say that?” I ask. “How do you know that? I’m here, aren’t I?”
She puts her hand on mine. “Why don’t you tell me? As much as Andy’s gotten inside the wire on you a couple of times, hasn’t
this thought crossed your mind more than once?
This has been pretty nice. Maybe just getting away from my world a few times will help clear my head, give me some perspective.
But it’s probably the last time I’ll get together with this guy. He’s interesting and even has some insights that might actually
help
—
if I weren’t a rising executive but a marina operator.
Hmm?”
After a pause, looking away from Andy, I quietly answer, “Maybe a little.”
She is silent again, still studying me.
“Yeah,
maybe
. See, Steven, you’re the last person anyone should listen to about solutions for you because you’ve got it all distorted
and you’re convinced you’re right. You live twenty-four hours a day in your self-contained world, where everything is about
appearances, performance, bottom lines, leverage, and control. But the truth is, as confident as you try to appear, my guess
is you don’t feel adequate for the job. Don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty sure you’re
all that
, but you’re not sure everyone else agrees. So, you’re worried, afraid that you’re failing. You even blame yourself. But VPs
aren’t supposed to condemn themselves. “So you create this world where on one hand you hate yourself for what you suspect
is true, and on the other hand you idealize yourself and blame others for not acknowledging the brilliance of this idealized
person. Both of these make you blind to what God might be trying to tell you. And that’s when the lights go out and you start
tripping over end tables.”
“Okay, hold on for a second,” I say, shaking my head. “Cynthia, you’re a lot of work, do you know that?”
“You’re right, Steven. Look at me talking too much.” She starts to get up, restacking pages she’d spread out at the table.
“I should be writing. Instead, I’m meddling.”
“No, it’s not that. Please, sit back down.” I wait until she does before saying, “It’s just that I’m realizing it might not
be best to drink when I’m with you all.”
We all laugh.
“Steven, may I continue, then? This will only take a couple moments. I’m almost done with everything I know.”
“Swing away,” I say, sweeping my hand in her direction.
“Okay. So, my young friend, I would guess this has been your game plan so far. It’s really quite funny when you step back
and look at it. Maybe not so funny when it happens to be you. Anyway, try this on. You take a stab at figuring out your junk.
But it doesn’t bring any resolution. So you rehearse it, over and over. Still nothing. Then you find some allies you can explain
your version of reality to. Maybe you get some temporary relief but still no
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