The Best Way To Fix A Bad Relationship

I work hard to take care of my family. Four fun families meant eight adults and ten kids. I didn’t pack ski snacks or wool thermals. My two boys’ wrists were exposed, revealing their jackets belonged to last season. I was the working mom. I drove up stressed. Watching the boys shred down the mountain, with the bigness of their smiles competing with the bigness of the mountain, made me happy. But I couldn’t turn off work. Not only was I the only executive on staff that had committed to a winter vacation with the family, but I was the only executive that would be on vacation while we ruined 30 percent of our staff’s lives by laying them off. We shuffle through the cold and into the warm cabin. Brian lights the fire, grabs his computer, and announces to the crew that he has to get some work in. All the moms nod with appreciation for Brian.

Things Aren't Always Easy

He is the emperor penguin, taking care of his family. He will starve and work while his wife replenishes herself after a long ski day. We wave him away, beaming with pride. Heather tosses powdered sugar on him like confetti. Tess, Brian’s wife, begins baking the homemade ziti pasta dish she’d carefully prepared ahead of the trip. Jill is putting blue sprinkles on her homemade cupcakes, then runs to her bag, forgetting she’d bought pink sprinkles for Ava, the only girl in the lot. It looks like snow! they say. I make myself a Moscow mule. We are meeting in twenty minutes. Does that work for you? My colleagues know I’m on vacation, but the text comes anyway. All the kids are in the upstairs loft, watching the cult ski film Aspen Extreme. Jill puts Ava in charge of the bell.

Another Brick In The Wall

When a kissing scene happens, she rings and Jill runs up to cover little Mikey’s eyes. I was waiting for the bell. The bell rings, Jill jumps up, I jump with her and slip out and into the bedroom to take the call. Only four people are on the line. Oh good, I’m not late, I think. They want to do it tomorrow. In pink pants and fleece. I start yanking on my hair. I am in a room walled with flannel. They start asking me legal questions. Are you there? my colleagues ask. I wait for the cabin roar to cease.

The Sun Never Shone That Day

Yep, sorry, I was on mute. Yes, we’ll have to put a solid severance package together. I talk as though I am sitting upright in a glistening glass office with a pantsuit on. I wait for the kissing bell so I can slither back in. My beanie’s too bright, I’m caught. That night I game with the crew. When my phone buzzes, Mighty Moms throw up their hands as if they’re stopping cars for their kids to use the school crosswalk. It’s called vacation! It’s called boundaries! It’s ridiculous that they think you’ll take a meeting on vacation. There’s no way I’d ever miss a Little League game. I literally wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I don’t know how you do it. Brian, the working dad, has missed Little League games. Brian worked every single day on that vacation. Brian was celebrated. I earn more money than most of the men in that musty cabin. Why don’t I get showered with sugar confetti? Why aren’t I an emperor penguin? Brian found love in his job. Brian got to play these loves out without having to fight against the joking condemnation of others. Instead, they would ask him about his work, what he was excited about, what his goals were, and he got to describe and revel in his loves. His audience affirmed and amplified his loves. He got bigger in their eyes. Whatever the opposite of support is, that’s what Myshel got. And not from enemies, from folks trying to do her wrong, but from her closest confidantes. And so she, like so many women in the workplace, didn’t get to amplify her loves. She got to apologize for them instead. Obviously, I don’t have a solution to all of the comparisons that’ll force themselves into your field of vision and distort how you come to see yourself. First, no matter how penetrating the stares or how caustic the judgments of others, hold on tight to your own red threads. Other people may tell you who they think you should be, but you know, better than anyone, what your loves are and how they make you feel. There is truth and power in these red threads. Weave them ever more tightly into the fabric of your life, show others how you are using them to make a contribution, and over time you may find that the fabric you’ve woven is strong enough both to hold you and to block them out. Second, be careful whom you choose to surround yourself with. Take seriously the truth that those closest to you do indeed reach in and touch you. It’s inhuman to pretend that they don’t. Do the people closest to you truly want you to flourish? Do they genuinely want to support you in turning all you love into all you could contribute? If they don’t, then you do not have a good relationship with them. And sometimes the best way to fix a bad relationship is to get out of it. Third, if you feel a need to compare yourself with others, keep your eyes focused always and only on contribution. On the outcome of your efforts. Never compare your methods with theirs. If you are working with a colleague who seems able to turn customers’ frustration around, then yes, admire this outcome. But try to resist the temptation to copy or compare yourself with others’ methods. Their way is not your way, and never will be. Don’t compare your way of selling, serving, writing, presenting, or leading with others’, because you will lose yourself in the comparison.