David McElroy

making sense of a dysfunctional culture

I don’t like to admit this, but recent changes leave me afraid

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When I started my first company, I was too ignorant to be scared.

I quit a stable newspaper job to go into business for myself — with only $5,000 in capital. I started sending out sales letters and making sales calls, trying to get churches to let me handle their marketing. I got a little bit of business, but the market wasn’t as good as I had hoped. It was a struggle.

In that first year, my great aunt — Aunt Bessie — died and left me $10,000. I used that money to buy a typesetting company, thinking that the existing accounts would allow me to become stable while I figured out how to launch a newspaper.

I didn’t have a great plan at any point. I had what I considered plans, but they were nothing like what I’d call a business plan today. I was just operating on faith and shooting from the hip. I was still ignorant but I was learning — and I was having fun.

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New information demands that I change some of what I think I am

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Have you done enough work on yourself that you know who you really are? If you think so, would you be willing to make a radical change to your narrative if you discovered something startling about yourself?

I’ve been changing some of my ideas about myself for the past two or three months. I don’t remember precisely when it started, but I know the words that made me uncomfortable enough to reconsider a lot of things:

“…[U]nder increased stress, unhealthy [Enneagram Type Ones] begin to behave like unhealthy [Type Fours]. When they are unable to maintain the intensity of their rigid intolerance and rage, Ones collapse into depression. Their depression can be severe and long term — and in this regard, Ones with strongly dysfunctional family backgrounds where stress was a constant factor may mistake themselves for Fours.”

I was listening to the audio version of “Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery,” by Don Riso and Russ Hudson when I came across these words around the first of the year. That was the beginning of changing some of what I think I am — and it allowed me to finally integrate the person I am now with the person I was before I turned 30.

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Ten years later, it hurts to know she lost faith in me and gave up

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I never saw the letter coming. I thought she loved me too much to give up on me. I thought the choice was all mine. But I was wrong.

I remember the Saturday morning when I got the letter. We’re going to call her Linda, but you know that’s not her real name. I’ve never talked about this letter with anybody. Even now, there are things I can’t say — things that happened after this — because I can’t break the confidence of someone who I loved long ago.

Until this week, I hadn’t read the letter in 10 years. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not entirely certain I read every word of it when I got it. The initial feeling was one of numbness, but I quickly understood that what I was feeling was blinding pain. It hurt so much that I was in a daze.

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