“What's so compelling about coaching?”

This question comes up. A LOT. 

(Usually asked with genuine curiosity, sometimes with an undertone of skepticism, something like, “Are you sure? What could possibly be SO GREAT that you'd leave your performance career behind?”)

I get it! So let me share a story…

Last year a client came into his session, all fired up:

Loud: “I’m sick and tired of being walked all over!”

Quieter, more hesitant: “I hate to admit it, but think I might be part of this problem.”

After a deep breath: “... and I want to do something about it.” 

This was a big day.

He had spent months (years, really) simmering with resentment — towards colleagues, friends, his partner. 

On this day he was willing to consider something brand new for him: that he had played a substantial role in creating this.

This was not easy for him to see or to admit. 

It was BRAVE.

(I know this because I’ve had to face this awareness about myself, too.)

After acknowledging him for his courage, we chose one resentment that was especially persistent, and asked this question:

“What part of this have I created, promoted, or allowed?”

We slowed down and got clear on what was within his power: what requests he could make, what agreements he could seek to establish, and what boundaries he might need to set.

Wonderful, right?

Well … not at first. After a big sigh, he came back with this:

“Yeah … I know. But I don’t want to be one of those ‘mean guys.' And these folks in my life are so demanding/inconsiderate/incompetent, it’s easier to just go along.”

(Sound familiar?)

And he really could have stayed there, continuing to “go along,” dropping hints to the offending parties, complaining to sympathetic listeners who reinforced his sense of being wronged, and allowing resentment to build.

But on that important day, he was ready to go to work. 

(His level of commitment was just barely above his level of dread — and that's all that's required!)

He began to practice: making requests, creating agreements, and setting boundaries. He did this in baby steps, often wildly uncomfortable and sometimes truly afraid.

It was messy! He flailed. He crumbled. He behaved in the very way he wanted to avoid: overcompensating, strident, clapping back. He did all of this and more. (I’ve done all of this and more, too.)

We also laughed — a lot. This was serious work but my client worked on not taking himself too seriously in the process.

And he kept going.

He accepted that this is all part of learning. He got clear that the messiness was a product of his own inner discomfort and growing pains, NOT because the boundary or request was inherently problematic.

My client made a commitment to work with that discomfort, to tolerate and manage it. He decided even to welcome it, since it signaled that he was stretching and growing. (Brené Brown says “I choose discomfort over resentment.”)

 Part of his work was to learn to approach these challenges from a place of neutrality and ownership, rather than judgment and blaming — swapping out “you are so inconsiderate” for “this is what works for me.”

And in this messy, awkward process he started to gather data: over time his resentment lessened, and his relationships strengthened — bit by bit, one day at a time.

This wasn't just good news. It was revolutionary.

That client is a highly successful leader with significant influence. (Does this surprise you? Outward success is no guarantee against major blind spots.)

Every bit of my client’s courageous work will have an impact far beyond him — his inner work has already begun to fundamentally transform the experiences of his family, his team, his company, his field … and beyond. 

THIS degree of transformation and impact (and so many more stories like this) fills me with inspiration.

THIS is the privilege of the work I do.

THESE are the people whose courage, vulnerability, and vision lights me up. 

THIS is what called me away from a profession I have also loved, inviting me into a whole new world of service and impact.

Does that answer the question, or at least begin to?

PS — If he can do this, so can you. Start with that go-to question: What part of this have I created, promoted, or allowed? Be as honest as you can and be gentle with yourself. It'll be messy — and I'm rooting for you!