Why I Went Back to Therapy

The three of us climbed back into my clown car (aka BMW i3) with our CEO assuming shotgun. Big and soft, he possessed the build of a retired football player, giving him default access to the front seat, regardless of title. My direct report was the polar opposite in stature, squeezing her small frame through the suicide doors and landing her bum with a successful “ha” in the barely-there backseat. The gymnastics required to enter and exit this vehicle never ceased to be a source of amusement. 

“I think they’re going to sign,” stated our CEO as we sped towards the 405 and away from the prospect’s office on Sunset Boulevard.  

“Why so confident,” I inquired. “We have no knowledge of their budget cycle or if any of the meeting participants was an actual decision maker.” 

“Why didn’t you ask!?” He barked. 

Months of frustration raced through my body. Feeling like a volcano, a hot lava was coursing through my veins, desperately seeking an outlet. Attempting to keep the angry flow inside, I assumed a death grip on the wheel. My grip quickly slipped and I shouted, “how!? How am I supposed to ask any questions when you won’t stop talking!?” Eyes wide and mouths open, both passengers were in shock as I screamed inside this small container of a car. “Every meeting you pummel prospects with our pitch, vomiting on everyone until there is nothing left. No time for questions. No energy for feedback. No discussion of next steps. Nothing.”

Like Harvey Specter from Suits (I wish!), he defended his sales methodology as if Judge Judy was our fourth passenger so our debate persisted for the duration of the drive. My words were overdue. But, I regret my tone, approach and creating such a scene in the presence of one of our colleagues. Not cool. 

How the hell did I get here? Repressing my emotions - repeatedly - proved to be the perfect recipe for such an outburst. Professionally and personally, I had been living by the philosophy of, if it’s not going to change anything, don’t say anything. Our CEO wasn’t going to change. I needed to learn how to adapt or leave. I chose the latter. 

I recently returned to therapy as my repression pattern was decimating a personal relationship that I didn’t want to leave but was struggling to manage.

“How did she respond to your feelings,” my therapist asked. 

“Oh no. These thoughts never left the inside of my head,” I responded, looking away from her face and fixating on the piece of lint perched on my knee. 

Too many to count, the number of conversations with me, myself and I. If it’s not going to change anything, don’t say anything. Challenge was, it was changing me and not for the better. 

When did I stop sharing my feelings and why!? Childhood trauma? Years of working for men that repressed their own emotions in fear of appearing weak and therefore, unable to deal with the vulnerabilities of others? Did I fear that such feelings would create friction, leading to my eventual termination from a job or relationship? 

Yes, yes and yes. Fear of abandonment strikes again. 

According to a September 2016 issue of Harvard Business Review, “Leaders expect to influence how people think and behave on the job, but they may feel ill equipped to understand and actively manage how employees feel and express their emotions at work. Or they may regard doing so as irrelevant, not part of their job, or unprofessional.” The article goes on to state, “by not only allowing emotions into the workplace, but also understanding and consciously shaping them, leaders can better motivate their employees.” I recognize this is the anti-Elon Musk school of management. Another topic for another day. 

I’ve been on the other side of the equation as a manager attempting to “shape” the emotions of my responsible team members. Courtesy of nature and nurture, Brenna wore her emotions on her sleeve. Not a fan of our recently-hired head of marketing, she informed me of this sentiment during every exchange. There were tears as she feared a pending culture change from one of caring to coldness. Brenna’s creative spirit was dying a slow death, injured by the robotic nature of our new employee. 

With several critical campaigns on deck, I needed them to successfully collaborate so I put on my coach’s cap and crossed my fingers. Once I understood the underlying issues, I encouraged Brenna to address Eve, our head of marketing, one-on-one and assisted her with the talking points. I also spoke to Eve directly so she knew that I was aware of the conflict along with my proposed resolution. They never became friends but a communication channel was created so they could professionally - and respectfully - work through any challenges faced. It was never easy but we made it work. 

If Brenna hadn’t been comfortable in expressing her feelings, I may have lost a rock star performer during an important period for the company. About a year later, she did indeed leave the company but was running to something vs. from. Note to self, Brenna’s feelings never created friction between us. Terminating her employment was never on the table. Even if it was, Brenna had the confidence and knowledge that she would be just fine without us.  

I could learn a thing or two from Brenna. 

A moving vehicle seems to be my desired destination for contentious conversations. Mountain living has replaced my BMW i3 with a big, blue Bronco. Equipped with 37” tires, gymnastics remain a driving prerequisite as a springboard for entry would be appreciated by all. We were heading back to my abode following a fruitful day of shopping. I possessed no expectation of change. Blame was not my intent. My goal was to let go and move forward. The only way for me to do so was to invite another to my one-sided conversation. As my therapist reiterated, this was to be the first of many as we repaired our relationship. 

No volcanos. No outbursts. I shared my feelings slowly and kindly. With every word, I could feel the weight on my chest retract, pound by pound. She didn’t pull a Lady Bird, launching herself from the vehicle and right into a cast adorned with, “fuck you Kerri.” She was defensive at times, trying to turn the table. Thoughtful too, reflecting on her own childhood in an attempt to understand past behavior. Most importantly  - and like Brenna and Eve - a communication channel was opened in order to tackle difficult conversations in the future. 

“If it doesn’t change anything, don’t say anything” is a terrible philosophy. “Grin and bear it” is bullshit. Silence is not just deafening, it’s dangerous to yourself and others. In the words of author Bessel van der Kolk, the body keeps the score. Bottling your emotions may manifest as physical pain, anger, insomnia, overeating, drinking/drugs, media binging and/or depression. Ambien was a very good friend when I worked for the CEO referenced at the top of this post. I’m pleased to say that we are now enemies. :) 

For your own health and wellbeing, free your feelings. You never know, your words could change someone or something, including you.