There's a peculiar pattern I've observed in both leadership and life that I want to share with you today—one that keeps us trapped in cycles of frustration despite our best efforts to resolve them.

I call it the Scaffolding Trap.

It works like this: When facing a difficult issue, particularly one involving relationship tension, we often pour tremendous energy into building elaborate "scaffolding" around the problem rather than addressing its foundation. We implement systems, create workarounds, and develop complex strategies—all to avoid having the one conversation that might actually resolve the core issue.

The Executive Who Couldn't Stop Building

Marcus was the CEO of a rapidly growing financial services firm I worked with last year. During our first session together, he described spending months creating an extensive performance management system to address what he called "cross-departmental friction." He had invested nearly $50,000 on consultants to develop this system, implementing weekly alignment meetings, project tracking software, and accountability partners—the works.

Yet despite this elaborate infrastructure, the tension persisted. The sales team continued to make promises the operations team couldn't fulfill. Operations continued to complain about sales setting unrealistic expectations. The complicated system Marcus had built simply created more work without resolving the underlying issue.

When I asked about Elizabeth and James, the heads of sales and operations respectively, Marcus grew visibly uncomfortable. He acknowledged that while both were exceptional at their individual roles, they had never really gotten along. There had been an incident two years prior where Elizabeth felt James had embarrassed her in front of a client, while James felt Elizabeth had set him up to fail. Neither had ever directly addressed it with the other.

When I asked if Marcus had facilitated a conversation between them, he admitted this wasn't his style. He described himself as a "systems guy" who believed that with the right structure in place, people would find their way through conflicts naturally.

There it was—$50,000 worth of scaffolding built around a conversation no one was willing to have.

The Executive and Her Husband

This pattern doesn't just show up in business leadership. It appears in our most intimate relationships as well.

I worked with Sarah, a successful CFO at a wholesale distribution company, and her husband David, who had left his career to be the primary caregiver for their two children. During our sessions, Sarah expressed ongoing frustration about the state of their home. Despite being the primary breadwinner working 60+ hours weekly, she often came home to toys scattered across the living room, dishes in the sink, and laundry piled high.

Over time, David had responded to these complaints by becoming increasingly meticulous about household management. He created elaborate chore charts, meal planning systems, and even set alarms on his phone to remind him to tidy up before Sarah arrived home. He'd invested in storage solutions, hired a part-time housekeeper, and completely reorganized their home to maximize efficiency.

Yet despite the home running more smoothly than ever, the tension between them persisted. David felt increasingly anxious about meeting Sarah's standards, while Sarah still seemed frustrated and distant when she came home from work.

When we dug deeper, something important emerged. Sarah's complaints about the house weren't actually about the house at all. What she was truly missing was feeling appreciated and admired for her contributions to the family. As the breadwinner working long hours away from her children, she carried guilt about her absence, and craved recognition that her sacrifice mattered to her family.

David, hearing only criticism about household management, had poured his energy into creating systems to fix what he thought was the problem—when the real issue lay buried beneath years of unexpressed emotions and needs.

David's elaborate systems—his scaffolding—allowed both of them to avoid the vulnerability of asking deeper questions: "What are we really seeking from each other?" "What part of you do I not see or understand?" "What are we afraid might happen if we have this conversation?"

When Hyper-Functioning Looks Like Caring

In both scenarios, what's most striking is how conscientious the scaffolding appears. Marcus wasn't neglecting his leadership responsibilities—quite the opposite. He was working overtime, investing significant resources, and demonstrating genuine commitment to solving the problem. David wasn't ignoring Sarah's complaints—he was working diligently to address exactly what she had articulated.

This is what makes the Scaffolding Trap so insidious. Our hyper-functioning looks remarkably like caring. We can point to all the things we're doing as evidence of our commitment. "Look at everything I've built to make this work!" we protest when the results don't match our efforts.

But hyper-functioning often serves as a sophisticated avoidance strategy. 

It keeps us safely in action mode, where we feel competent and in control, rather than in conversation mode, where we might feel vulnerable and uncertain.

The Cost of Scaffolding

While scaffolding might temporarily hold things together, the long-term costs are substantial:

For Marcus, his elaborate performance management system actually decreased overall productivity as team members spent more time documenting their work than doing it. More importantly, the underlying tension between Elizabeth and James continued to spread throughout the organization, creating factions and eroding trust.

For Sarah and David, their situation created a home where physical needs were meticulously met but emotional needs remained unaddressed. David grew increasingly anxious about household management, while Sarah felt increasingly isolated in her desire for appreciation. Their children, meanwhile, were witnessing a relationship where love was expressed through tasks rather than connection – a model that would shape their own understanding of relationships for years to come.

So how do you know when you're building scaffolding instead of addressing foundations? From my experience you’ll want to consider this possibility if:

1. You're solving the same problem repeatedly with increasingly complex solutions, doing everything explicitly asked for, yet tension persists.
   
   
2. You move quickly into solution mode without fully exploring what's beneath the presenting issue.
   
   
3. You secretly fear that addressing the core issue might lead to separation or rejection.
   
   
4. You notice chronic patterns of disconnection in the relationship. As I describe in Chief Family Officer, people typically disconnect through avoidance (withdrawing), posturing (aggression), collapsing (shutting down), or seeking (anxious pursuit).

Dismantling the Scaffolding

So how do we escape this trap? How do we find the courage to address foundations instead of building more elaborate structures around them?

First, we must recognize that beneath most scaffolding lies a conversation we're avoiding. When I asked Marcus what conversation he was avoiding with Elizabeth and James, he revealed his fear that bringing them together to address the conflict directly might result in one of them leaving – a risk he felt he couldn't afford given their importance to the company's success.

When I asked Sarah and David the same question, I learned that Sarah feared appearing ungrateful or selfish if she admitted that a clean house wasn't actually what she needed most. David, meanwhile, was afraid that if the household systems weren't the real issue, he would have to confront deeper questions about his contribution to their relationship and family. Something that felt like a bit of a blackbox to David; he didn’t know what that meant let alone where to begin. 

The path forward begins with naming these fears—first to ourselves, then eventually to those involved. This doesn't guarantee a particular outcome, but it creates the possibility of authenticity and truth, which is the only foundation sturdy enough to build upon.

For Marcus, this meant finally bringing Elizabeth and James together, acknowledging the elephant in the room, and creating space for them to address their long-standing grievances with his support. It wasn't a comfortable conversation, but it was clarifying. Both leaders expressed frustrations neither Marcus nor the other had fully understood. While the conversation didn't instantly transform their relationship, it established a new baseline of honesty from which actual progress became possible.

For Sarah and David, it meant having a series of conversations that moved beyond household management to deeper needs and desires. Sarah was able to articulate her need for appreciation and recognition, beyond just a clean house. David shared his fear that his contribution as a stay-at-home parent wasn't valued in the way Sarah's career accomplishments were. They discovered that his obsessive cleaning was partly an attempt to prove his worth in a role that society often undervalues. These revelations didn't immediately solve their issues, but they created context and compassion from which new patterns could emerge.

The Obstacle Is the Way

There's a paradox in leadership and life that continues to humble me: often, the very conversation we're most committed to avoiding is precisely the one we most need to have.

We build scaffolding because we care—because we want to solve problems without risking the relationships that matter to us. But in doing so, we often prevent the very depth of connection we're trying to cultivate.

True leadership, whether in an organization or a family, requires the courage to go beyond unnecessary scaffolding and address foundations directly. It means asking: What conversation am I avoiding? What am I afraid might happen if I have it? And what might become possible if I find the courage to try?

As Marcus discovered with his executive team and Sarah and David found in their marriage, the conversation you're avoiding is rarely as devastating as you fear, and it's often the doorway to the very resolution you've been seeking all along.

Remember, the obstacle isn't something to work around—it's often the very path you need to walk.

What conversation are you avoiding today?