More Newsletters

PUTTING PERSONAL ISSUES ASIDE
If the period involving the studio renovation and John’s move into a new home was smooth, it was merely the proverbial “calm before the storm.”

Perhaps the hardest thing in the world to do is to reframe a relationship. John and I had spent— literally—every waking moment together for a long time. The first Monday after he moved out, I walked into the studio with an eerie, empty hole in my stomach— or was it my heart? After 14 years, the rules had all changed. Imagine the stress of working day in and day out with your ex. Do I ask how his weekend was? Suggest lunch together? Send his mom a birthday card? We both felt awkward, and eventually, when “suitors” began to call for each of us, it became even more uncomfortable.

Thankfully, there was work to be done. My assistant—our studio manager—and I had spent a lot of energy on new business development and it was paying off. Professionally, we were thriving. Personally, I admit I had the newly single syndrome: I wanted—indeed, needed—to party. So, just as I had done in the startup days, I cut back on my sleep. (Anyone who has undergone a serious breakup knows the adrenaline and caffeine-fueled energy that marks the first six months of freedom.) Eventually things for both John and I settled into a manageable groove. Slowly we found balance and came to have a friendship. We had successfully redefined the relationship.

DEALING WITH TRAGEDY
Nothing in life ever stays static for long, however. And just as our company hit the 20-year mark in summer 2005, our next challenge would be the toughest to date.

On June 27, 2005, I left for a much-anticipated trip to Amsterdam. On my second day there, I phoned the office to check in. To my horror, I learned that John had been the victim of a crime that had resulted in life-threatening injuries. He was in the hospital and had undergone one surgery and was facing another the following day. There are no words to describe the rush of emotions and thoughts I had at that moment. There I was an ocean away, in another time zone, completely out of touch. Feeling helpless in Europe, I caught the next flight back to the United States. It took me about 26 hours to get back to Des Moines after learning about John. That’s a long time to think, when there is nothing more you can do. In my mind I played out every imaginable scenario: John being paralyzed and unable to work, John being dead, our employees all gone because they were scared of the future, etc. And in the end, I found myself facing my own demons and fears.

I stayed at the hospital with John and his parents while he got through the worst part of the ordeal, and afterward—ironically— he came to stay at my house (which had been “our” house for almost ten years) during the first few weeks of his recovery. A side effect of the trauma has been the cementing of our friendship. John and I have been “together” for about two-thirds of our lives, and it is really during the troubled times that you come to know people for who they truly are. That said, there is also the fact that I had been forced to face the notion of my life without a person who had indeed changed its course.

John, as it turns out, will be fine. Although he has several months of physical therapy ahead of him, he has actually missed very little work, and truth be told, work itself is a welcome distraction to him.

As for me, I had been scared for a long time to face life beyond Sayles Graphic Design, and while I am not in a hurry to surrender or walk away from the life I have known for the past two decades, I have been forced to come to a realization. I know it sounds trite, but life, indeed, is short. I have done a lot, but I can—I will—do more. I have been consulting for the last several years as a sort of hobby. I work with other designers to set goals and make their organizations more solid. I write articles like this one. I facilitate retreats for firms and companies and I help groups with strategic planning. I may very well be a principal at the firm I helped found for the rest of my life. Or not. But in the end there’s this: I believe there are people who enter your life in order to change your destiny. And I am still meeting people; and they’re meeting me.