Years ago I was doing house calls to a famous composer/musician who was dying.  His personality had an edge to it that many experienced as off putting.  One of the things he seemed to appreciate about seeing me was that not only wasn’t I put off by him, but that I could see through and reach through it to tap into the fear and occasional terror he felt about dying.

One of the things that puzzled me was that this gifted man was almost as well known for his drugs and run ins with the law as he was for his music.

So on one occasion and in my benevolent, mafiosa, big brother tone I asked him, “All those drugs you used and got busted for in the sixties.  What was that all about?”

He told me, “You know, I’ve known that I had a real musical talent for most of my life.  And I’ve been fortunate to have my music in demand across the world for most of my career with Grammys over several decades.  But every time I did something great, my mother and others would rush in to either take credit for it or say, ‘That’s our good little boy’ or ‘It’s about time that you finally got your act together.’ And when they did that, it make my blood curdle.”

In my most professional, clinical and dignified voice I replied: “Gee that sucks.”

He replied, “Yes it did.  It was like so many people acting as if they owned a piece of something that should have belonged entirely to me.  It was like their ambition and greed contaminated something pure.  I wasn’t so foolish as to throw my talent away, but I needed something that belonged entirely to me.  Drugs and some of the bad shit I did were things that nobody wanted to take credit for or own any part of and so part of their appeal is that they represented something that was totally mine.  Kinda messed up, wouldn’t you agree?”

I replied, “I agree, but I understand.  When others take credit for something as personal as a special gift you have and then speak to you in a condescending way, it can corrupt the purity of that gift that belongs to you and nobody else. In fact it’s a little like having that pure part of you molested by an ugly part of the world. It’s to your credit that you didn’t throw that gift away just to get even with them. While we’re on the topic of other things that puzzle me about you.  You have also had a reputation for being a miserable s.o.b. What was that about?”

He explained, “That was an altogether different thing. In nearly fifty years of being a composer and musician, there were only a handful of time when the music in my mind matched perfectly with the music I composed and played.  And knowing that was possible I tried to make it happen every time and for all but a handful of occasions when I got it right, I failed.  Drove me nuts.”

I replied, “Now that really is messed up.  You blew it!  Almost nobody experiences the level of perfection in a lifetime that you describe. To know, experience and perform with that perfection a handful of times is close to godlike.  You treated an ideal to aim for and savor when you attained it on a handful of occasions as a standard to be achieved every day.  It made you miserable and miserable to be around.  I think you need to let it go and focus on everything you should feel satisfied and proud of,get some pain relief and go into your sunset with as few regrets and as much peace of mind as possible.”

“Good idea,” he replied.

“Consider it doctor’s orders,” I told him.

In my estimation, he followed them.

“You look like hell and I don’t think it’s because you’re dying; you’ve been dying as long as I’ve known you,” I said to Max (real name withheld) the terminally ill tough movie mogul I’d been doing house calls on and with whom I had developed a no b.s. rapport.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything important in my life,” he told me.

“What?” I protested, trying to ease his mind as he closed in on the end of his life.  “Think of the hospital wing named after you, the jobs you created, the amazing films that will live on forever.”

“Don’t con a con man, especially when he’s dying,” he snapped back.  “I have all the love that money can buy and that’s all it’s worth.   I also have several ex-partners and two ex-wives I beat up on financially and a bunch of trust fund kids from three marriages, who I guess I love, but who are all selfish and irresponsible.”

“So if I continued the list of all your achievements, it wouldn’t work,” I asked.

“No, not now.  I think I just might have outsmarted myself,” Max concluded.

Now having trained FBI and police hostage negotiators and appeared on CNN and national radio stations on the day of the Columbine shootings and again on 9/11 to take calls, I am pretty quick on my feet.

“Really,” I said. “You know there are a couple of very uncomplimentary words in psychology that I’ve been thinking that might apply to you, but I didn’t think I’d get to use them given that you’re dying.  Those words are narcissist and psychopath.  And you know, you might just be getting exactly what you deserve.  You did use people for most of your life and took pleasure in doing it. You were a master manipulator.  In fact you made Citizen Kane look like a boy scout. And another thing,” I stopped when he abruptly interrupted me.

“Stop already! Okay! I get it.  You’ve made your point,” he said emphatically.

“And that point is?” I asked.

“This is not a good time for me to be asking these questions,” he said with a broad smile that indicated our rapport was still in tact despite my verbal assault.

“CORRECT! You weren’t perfect, but neither were you the most evil person on earth.  You messed up, but you did a lot of good.  Drop it already. Let’s go for pain control, morphine drip and then get out of Dodge,” I urged.

“Do I get to go out with my boots on?” Max quipped.

“Sure, it’s your movie,” I couldn’t resist having the last word.

Three weeks later Max died…with his slippers on.

Why is it that so many high achievers stink at relationships? High achievers are good at clearly selecting a goal and tenaciously staying on track until they achieve it and scattering anything that might derail them.  Other people’s feelings or being mindful of their own lack of tack (which taken together we refer to as Emotional Intelligence) would distract them.  Most high achievers are not insensitive, they are simply NOT sensitive.

To be good at a relationship, you need to listen to the other person, care enough to make the effort to understand what they are saying (i.e. “relate” to it) and then communicate back to them in a way that demonstrates you have taken into consideration what you have understood.  Not only is that off putting to a high achiever, but the “run on sentence” I just used to explain it was more than they could even pay attention to.