Page 101 of Vivacity
He smiles, and it’s a real smile. ‘Yeah. It’s fire.’
‘Great. You can show me what you’ve got.’
‘You sounded verydistressed in your text messages,’ Philip says over my computer screen. He’s out of town for Christmas but has, bless him, readily agreed to an emergency Boxing Day Zoom with me. Jamie is watchingTop Gun: Maverickfor the millionth time down in the cinema room after what even I would admit was a highly successful trip to the driving range. He got on brilliantly with his new driver, and I wasn’t too shabby, either.
I take a deep breath and recount the story as efficiently as I can: my high hopes; the successful build; Jamie’s fatal error; my nasty meltdown; the car chase; my rescue of him. My heart rate is ratcheting up even as I relive it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Philip says faintly. ‘It sounds like you gentlemen have had quite the time of it. That must have been very upsetting for both of you.’
‘Yeah.’ I wipe my palms along my jogging bottoms. ‘You can say that again.’
‘How is Jamie doing, first of all?’
‘He seems okay. He slept well last night, which is more than I can say for myself. He seems encouraged by the fact that we’re sorting his PC out. And he was worried about my telling his mum, but I know she’ll be far more furious with me than him.’ Ilet out a shaky little laugh. ‘I have to say, the more I learn about this stuff, the more paranoid I get that every instance like this is going to cause deep and lasting trauma for him.’
He pauses and looks downwards. He’s probably tapping his specs on his knee, out of sight. ‘That’s a valid concern, and that’s very possibly a protective paternal part talking. You do have one, you know, Ethan. I hear it a lot when you speak. Your Papa Bear part, for want of a better term, is always going to be extremely protective of your child. I think our parenting parts tend to be some of the most ferocious I’ve encountered in my years of practice.
‘All of which to say is that Jamie’s lucky that he has a father with those parts. It’s not clear to me that your father did, from what I’ve heard. So you are not your father, and Jamie is not you. You’re doing the work, and he has access to a wealth of resources to help him process all of these experiences when he’s ready. But, more importantly, he is gaining more and more access every day to his father’s Self Leadership, and that’s a beautiful thing.’
I screw up my face. I’ve heard Philip talk about the Self, that higher piece of us that’s not a part, but I’m not sure about theLeadershipbit. Soph referred to the Self in Mustique asdivine energy, which made me want to run for the hills. That’s far too woo-woo for my liking.
My confusion must be evident, because he carries on. ‘Think of the Self as your wisest boardroom member, the one who sees the big picture, who can think long term, who doesn’t panic or lash out. Your parts can be more like reactive junior execs who have a short-term agenda. Self will listen to them, but he’s not ruled by them. He leads from an adult, centred place.’
‘I’m not sure that describes my parenting style recently,’ I quip without humour, but he shakes his head.
‘It’s a journey. And what you have to know is that your Self is always there. Sometimes it just gets drowned out by the noisier voices. But as your parts learn to trust you more, you’ll access that Self Leadership more and more easily. But first, do you want to tell me how you’re feeling? Any observations you want to share? It’s absolutely to be expected that you’d still be very shaken up after what you’ve been through.’
This is what I’ve come to expect and appreciate from Philip. It’s why I messaged him. He’s someone I can unload on with no guilt of overburdening him, no fear of judgement. More than anything, he makes it acceptable for me to have all my feelings. He makes them all feel normal, I suppose. And being made to feel normal when you’re second-guessing every fucking thing about yourself is seriously underrated.
So I attempt to vomit out all my thoughts, my fears, in one big, messy outpouring. Obviously, there’s the lingering feeling that we dodged a bullet, that Jamie could have been injured, or worse. Thewhat iffeeling that haunted me last night when I was trying to chase sleep. There’s an enormous amount of guilt, not only at my outburst, but at the fact that I drove my son to such extreme behaviour in an attempt to seek comfort from his mother. It still makes me sick to my stomach that I caused him such intense pain.
On top of all that, there’s, honestly, some residual fury at Jamie for taking such a stupid, unjustifiable and overdramatic risk. Why the fuck couldn’t he have called an Uber? This emotion I’ve been keeping a tight lid on. I’m absolutely not about to unleash my wrath on him again.
Let me see: there’s the worry that I’m basically my father, that when push comes to shove, I care more about saying and doing whatever the fuck I like than protecting my son. And there’s an analyser who’s in full panic mode. He feels a bit like a White House advisor who’s been told he has to defuse a bombwith little to no information as to when and where it’ll strike. As though this is all an impossible puzzle that he surely must be able to intellectualise his way through. I’m judging myself for failing on that front, to be honest. I relay all this to Philip as best I can.
‘If you can, take a moment to thank your parts for being so ready to share,’ Philip says. ‘I’m sensing a lot of fear and vulnerability, quite rightly, so I appreciate that there’s a lot going on in there.’ His mouth quirks into a ghost of a smile. ‘I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but at some point, you stopped referring to feelings and started referring to parts, which is a sign that, even in the midst of all the emotions you must be going through, you can unblend from these parts enough to observe them.’
Huh. I hadn’t noticed that, and honestly, I’m surprised that I’ve done that. I make a non-committal noise.
‘Is there a name you’d like to give that White House part? The Fixer? The Problem Solver, maybe?’
‘The Fixer sounds about right.’ It’s true. I pride myself on being able to fix things. I’m an established business leader overseeing a complex takeover, for god’s sake. That I’m so out of my depth and so utterly fucking oblivious when it comes to my son is the thing that galls me most of all.
We work through my parts,one by one, and as we do, I feel a sense of something that’s not quite peace settle over me. Nor is it lightness; more an absence of weight. We’ve gone through an hour already, but Philip tells me we’ll take as long as I need, and I feel unfathomably grateful to this kind, wise man who’s giving up his precious family time to deal with me and my fuck-ups. IfSelf Leadership really is the wisest, most adult board member, then I’d hire Philip Hicks for that role any day of the week.
‘Let me ask you a question,’ he says now, having worked through every voice in my head. In my mind’s eye, they’re all slumped, exhausted but somehow less burdened, around my boardroom table. ‘If you continue on your current path, what do you think will happen?’
I blow out a loud, tired breath. Fuck knows. ‘Um, a haphazard relationship with Jamie at best—well-meaning, but probably with a lot of fuck-ups on my part. A successful merger—in the market’s eyes, at least—and, I dunno, same old, same old.’ I trail off.
‘And how does that make you feel?’
‘Exhausted. Defeated. Like, I don’t know why I’m bothering.’
‘That’s right, that’s right. So, another question for you, then. What does your heart tell you Jamie needs right now?’
I sit up straighter and try to focus. ‘He needs to know I’m there for him unequivocally. That he can be uniquely himself and I’ll be there every step of the way, and that I love him unconditionally.’ As soon as I say the words, it all feels very clear. Very straightforward.
‘That’s very beautiful,’ Philip says softly. ‘What else?’
