He would know.
At my Dad's funeral, he sat with other members of the Board of Directors, smiling and acting like a surrogate father which he believed he was, forever saying that he loved me like a son.
He was the first person I'd told that our company's Chief Financial Officer had misused over $1 Million, purposely covering it up in her finance reports. He was with me when I fired her and he kept checking on me as I called our supporters to explain what had happened.
He was along for the ride when the behavioral health collaborative I'd put together achieved tremendous initial success and then crashed and burned leaving me with egg on the picture of my face in the newspaper.
In the bar of the Phoenix Park hotel in Washington, D.C. I said to him, "I'm going to tell you something but I can't take your reaction but I need to tell you," and I told him that my wife had left demanding a divorce. He stiffened quickly and grabbed my arm and started saying how sorry he was.During the last Board meeting I attended he gave a passionate, teary speech about how special I am and how much I'd given the company ... meaning pretty much everything. I sat staring at my hands, numb and untouched as though it was an out-of-body experience.
When I returned from St. Martin, having resigned from the company and it being front page news, he met me for coffee at Larry's Restaurant to ask, "What are you going to do now?" The truth of the matter was I had no idea. I was hurt, angry and exhausted.
"You need to get back on the horse right now," he instructed. "You've got too much to give."
I stared at him a long time before saying, "The last advice you gave me was some of the worst ever. Why should I listen to you now?"
And I didn't.
I'd known it was getting to be too much. Thirty years of giving it your all will catch up with anybody. I said as much, explaining I needed to step away for a while, take a Sabbatical, recharge my batteries so I could continue to give it my all.
"You can't do that," he'd told me. "You're too important. People will think it's a sign of weakness. Take it from me. It's for the best."
Pretty soon after that, everything happened quickly, leaving him to conclude that "Nobody could have survived what you have."
So in Larry's Restaurant that day, I stood and said, "I'm not listening to you this time." And I left him sitting there with his coffee and confidence.
For the last three years, I've put Humpty Dumpty back together again and I have to say, "It's pretty damn good!"
I gave myself the Sabbatical. I spent a year working with the International Street Medicine Institute. Sarah came home after being away for a decade and love blossomed and we married and every day is a celebration. We have a beach home, Carnivals of friends, a wonderful family and lots of joy.
But something was missing. So we went to work creating new work to help others who are struggling through difficult and dark times. I survived and am happier and better off because of it. I want to help others do the same. Through a series of online classes, teleseminars, consistent and personal messages and direct communication we have the tools people need to survive the dark times ... AND TO MAKE LIFE BETTER.
I hope you never need it but, if you ever do, then help is there for you.
Check it out at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/services/
