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Be a Master of Your Feelings,
Not a Slave
October 29, 2004
Elizabeth, you’re a bright energetic woman with an instinct for business that’s right on the money. You’re able to sense when your team is headed in the wrong direction and can almost sniff bad decision-making in the air. Unlike your more calculating and rational counterparts, you feel your way to what’s right and judge things by how they sit with you. You let your instinct guide you. Your feelings surpass the knotty logic that entangles your cohorts. You have a sixth sense for what works and what does not. Your gut
told you that the world calamity of terrorism and a militaristic approach was not the way to go. You knew in your heart that a personal appeal to pride and everyday heroism was the right way, and you were right. You knew it in your bones. Your feelings, Elizabeth, are your greatest strength and your
greatest weakness.
Your feelings may guide you, but they don’t guide others. Others can’t see into your heart and embrace the intuition that’s immersed in it. They need something they can understand. They need something palpable. Something real and logical. Rational argument that adds up. They need something they can hang their hat on. What you couldn’t do, Elizabeth, was explain to your cohorts why you were right. You weren’t able to support your feelings with something they could understand. Your band of teammates had a rational argument for their case. They thought that global terrorism was the foremost issue of the day and that it was the reason people would sign up. They thought that should you ignore it, you would do so at your own peril.
You though weren’t able to explain to them why you felt they were wrong. You instinctually knew their logic was misguided, but you weren’t able to put your feelings into words. You barely even tried. You thought it was obvious and couldn’t understand why they just didn’t get it, but Elizabeth, it was only obvious to you. Not only did you not counter their seemingly sound and grounded reasoning, but you couldn’t build a case for how you wanted to proceed. What’s worse, you couldn’t articulate exactly what it was you wanted to do. You wanted to lead them in an opposite direction but couldn’t tell them where they were going. You had failed them once before as project manager, so they sure as hell weren’t going to blindly listen to you. They needed a solid and concrete destination, a vision if you will. When people don’t understand, they’re not going to be willing—or even equipped—to supply it for you. You needed to lay out a plan.
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You’re not clueless, Elizabeth. That’s one thing you’re most certainly not. You’re able to read people and know how they’re reacting to you. You know how they feel, and you know what you need to do. You even did it. You sought out a sympathetic ear and grabbed it in Kevin Allen. You sat down with him and worked all night to come up with a plan. You even, I dare say, gained his respect. You made him see how strongly you felt and showed him you were prepared to do what was necessary to get it done. When you had parted ways that night, you had won him to your side.
But the next morning, you let your feelings once again become your greatest weakness. You stood facing an angry mob of detractors who didn’t want to listen to you. You felt their ire and the sting of their unrelenting glare. You couldn’t take it. You wilted. You turned your back on what you knew was right and opened your arms to your would-be adversaries. Your feelings demanded that you try to placate them, to get them to like you. You don’t like it when you’re not part of the group, when you’re ostracized and left out. No one does, but you, my dear, have an incessant need to please all people, all the time. You didn’t wilt under pressure. You wilted because you can’t shoulder ill will. You can’t deal with people being upset with you. You want to make everyone happy—every last single person. You can’t stand it when someone’s not, especially with you. So you let your feelings get the best of you and you did what you knew in your heart was wrong; you let them lead you down the wrong path to your own destruction.
Some people would call you wishy-washy or indecisive, because that is after all how you come across. The truth though is that you’re steadfast in your feelings and what you want to do. You’re not indecisive at a fundamental level at all. Your feelings don’t sway with the wind; you don’t change your mind on how you feel. No, it’s rather your willingness to stand up for your convictions that waxes and wanes. When you face a wall of opposition, your willingness collapses. When friendly faces are before you, your willingness mounts. You allow other people to dictate how firmly you stand. That’s not being a leader, Elizabeth. That’s what Kevin calls a “pussy.”
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Your feelings surpass the knotty logic that entangles your cohorts.
