Hale

I gulp several deep breaths, one after another.  The tears have subsided, mingling with the water washed down the shower drain as I pull myself together.  The calm will come; I just need to let myself be in the storm. 

Sure enough he comes to me, but I can tell by the way he swallows the first few words off my lips that he isn’t ready for me yet.  As expected, he thunders off again.  I wait.  He’s back, trepidation tinged with a dose of defiance to keep the edge on.  This time I tell a story.

Earlier in the day I read this piece about how a company’s guiding principles should govern who stays and who goes. http://www.fastcompany.com/3007912/hiring-and-firing-companys-vision-mind. It speaks to the power of culture and how a leader who lacks this passion, failing to infuse her team with the organization’s “why”, is poisonous.  This I believe.  I find the parallels to the situation unfolding at home startling; and so I talk about the culture and values of our family, how deeply established these are.  When I ask for the affirmation I know will be given when I look for acknowledgement that he knows exactly what these are, I am not disappointed.  I talk of situations at the office where leaders fail to live our values and the ensuing damage to our teams and our clients.  I let him know it’s similar at home, that I have more than one person to consider here and have no intention of allowing the behavior of one to compromise another. I assure him that if he doubts my bias towards taking action in these situations, he can consult with my colleagues at work. 

I need him to understand that I am tenacious, that every time he attempts to bury this behavior in the troughs, it is only a matter of time before it crests again.  And I will be there waiting.  No one is better at managing this undulation than I am. I have been in this sea forever; I know how to ride the waves.

I keep forgetting that this is my power, which is why I find myself flooding the shower more often than I’d like.  I waste precious energy admonishing myself for my inability to control behavior, to be omniscient, to police and smother.  Ironically, I wouldn’t dream of applying any of these tactics with my leaders at the office, no matter how miserably they are failing. In fact, I would berate myself just as harshly if I did. I rely on allowing my people to live through their experience, failing if they need to, as long as there is no significant risk to our organization.  And when it comes to our culture, I won’t compromise; I won't give up no matter how long it takes to right the ship. The people I lead are too important to look the other way.

I ask my youngest if I need to be worried about his beloved brother.  He shakes his head, and I give him a beleaguered, quizzical look, the one that says “Really?”, but I’m too defeated to actually say really.  “No, really, Mom.  I think he’ll do the right thing; you need to give him time.”   Wow. His words are so anodyne and matter-of-fact I can’t help but let them soak in. Tenacity must run in the family.