David McElroy

Maybe I’ve always wanted to be needed. I’m not sure. I just know I wasn’t aware of it until the last few years.

For the past two days, I’ve been stuck on this idea of being needed. Almost three years ago, I wrote about how the best relationships are centered around mutual need and “mutual rescue.”

But this thing that’s been nagging at me is different. It left me feeling down, because it emphasized how much I miss being needed. Feeling that made it hard to make it through work Friday, because I was feeling lost — as though I no longer had any direction or motivation.

On the way home Friday evening, I snapped this photo of myself in the car. I had spent the day pretending to care what others had to say — talking to them about the expensive house we were looking at — and I knew that my fake smile had been pasted on too long.

As I drove home, I realized how little I cared about any of it. None of it mattered to me. What was the point without feeling needed by a family who I loved?

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I’m never going to be a leader, at least not the kind the “leadership books” teach you to be. And I’m finally OK with that.

When I was still in my “empire-builder” stage of my 20s, I read every business book I could find. I studied the ideas of popular writers such as Peter Drucker, Tom Peters and W. Edwards Deming. There were many more. The books often seemed profound as I read them, but I slowly realized something.

The concepts and management tips in the books turned out to be useless in the small companies I managed. No matter how brilliant the concepts seemed — and no matter how well they worked for the people in the small companies described — my employees looked at me blankly when I tried the ideas.

This left me confused about myself. Was I just a terrible leader? Was I doing something wrong? If so, why did people in organizations naturally turn to me when work needed to be done?

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When did I put up this wall around my heart? And why has it taken me so long to notice it’s here?

I unexpectedly talked with a friend Tuesday evening. It’s someone I’ve been close to for a long time, but we haven’t been able to talk much for the last five or six years. The reasons don’t matter, but I’ve really missed talking with her. We correspond by email, but it’s not the same.

It was actually our second conversation in the last few weeks. In the first, we spent most of it talking about some things in her life. When she called back Tuesday, she said she wanted to ask what was really happening with me — since the other conversation had been all about her.

I didn’t realize this until just a few minutes ago — about 30 hours later — but I didn’t answer her questions. I found reasons to tell her a few surface-level things, but I didn’t tell her anything of importance.

It just hit me that it’s been so long since I’ve been “real” with someone that it felt threatening. I didn’t know how to tell her the truth.

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