Such Sweet Sorrow
“As a matter
of interest,” announced one of my
Four clients, “I now
know the difference between depression and melancholy.
Melancholy is a sweet sadness that I don’t mind.
Depression is a much darker place, a deeper pit of despair
and hopelessness.” This level of attention to the nuances of
anguish doesn’t surprise me. Indeed, it attracts me. I’ve
written elsewhere about the importance of taking into account
your own
Enneagram style as a coach, but not as much about the
interplay of client and coach’s styles. As an example, I'll
share the implications, as a
Nine, of my fondness
for Fours.
In 2000, I
began an ill-fated love affair that took me to ecstatic highs
and tragic lows. In spite of the great pain I suffered, I never
think of that relationship without joy. One of the reasons for
my joy lies in something I said to myself during the roller
coaster of that romance: “This must be what it feels like to be
a Four!” I thought I’d experienced the full range of
feelings, and I had. But I hadn’t yet experienced the full
intensity
of feelings,
an intensity that’s now more available to me. I find this to be
especially true when I’m coaching Fours.
For example,
when Phil O’Reilly, a young graduate student, contacted me for
help in organizing his dissertation, he began by lamenting how
out of it he felt compared to faculty and even other graduate
students. They seemed to conform so easily to all the
guidelines. While he could have focused on his opportunity to
shed new light on traditional topics, he described instead how
dejected he felt from trying to meet department expectations.
Like many Fours, he’d rehearsed his sad story for so long, he
couldn’t imagine feeling any other way. I’d suffered through my
own dissertation, but in a lower key. Empathizing with Phil’s
experience I referred to my own with symphonic overtones, and
affirmed the pain he must be enduring. I knew this would help
him feel his reactions were acceptable: “I’m not alone. Others
have suffered through these things.”
But something
was also happening for me as a Nine who still sometimes
minimizes her experience. Fours remind me of the importance of
feelings. So it’s easy for me to establish rapport by witnessing
their pain, showing empathy, honoring their unique way of seeing
things, and focusing my questions on how they feel. But, as a
dear friend and colleague (a Four) reminded me, we Nines are
tempted to live our lives through someone else. This can take
the form of fantasy, an escape from a sometimes vanilla-flavored
existence. So I have to pay attention to my tendency to merge
with the client's experience so much I lose my objectivity, my
role as a coach. If I don't maintain enough objectivity, I may
show too much empathy for Fours, indulge in the thrill of
feeling their feelings. This won’t help them move from being
stuck in their emotions to becoming effective in the external
world.
Some years
ago I left a Naranjo workshop with the commitment to “live life
with passion.” After my roller-coaster love affair I renewed
that commitment, but reworded it slightly: “to live my own
life with passion.” I encourage you to think about what
clients you’re drawn to and why, and to notice when the coaching
relationship may keep you in the box of your own Enneagram
patterns.
