I hired a new personal coach today. We have a bit of a past, but working with her now is so refreshing. My current circle of friends and family are helpful, but in the past I’ve had voices in that circle that ranted or just gave me excuses. With my coach, instead of sycophants or ranting, I get clear, useful feedback.
What I used to get:
What do you want ANOTHER degree for?
Oh take it easy on yourself, it’s been a hard week, have some ice cream.
What does that mean ‘freelance’? Is there really work for writing from home, whenever you want? It sounds too good to be true.
You can’t be yourself, you have to be something useful.
Today was our first consultation. She entered the conference room, professionally dressed, not too uptight. She carried a slim portfolio – a summary of what I want, where I want to go, what I’ve been up to lately.
We greeted each other with a smile, and sat down with our coffee, and notebooks.
This has been a rough couple weeks: she knows that. My husband went into ER four days before Valentines, on our date night. We had just cracked the Prosecco, the roast was filling the air with delicious smells. We toasted, sipped, smiled ; and then his phone rang. It was the doctor. I could hear both sides of the conversation:
“I’m very concerned with the symptoms you are describing, I want you to go to the ER now.”
My husband nodded.
“I realize it is inconvenient, you’ll be there for hours, but the chest pain you’re describing, and your age and risk factors… I’m very concerned. “
Now, it’s not like he was hurting and we just cracked a bottle of wine and celebrated. Earlier that day we had tackled a medium-size hill hike near our home. Smaller than we had been doing, but hubby struggled. Really struggled.
My demand: call the doctor when we get home.
Which he had done.
By the time the doctor called back, two hours had passed and hubby was feeling fine. Hence the continuation of date night.
So we shoved a cork back into the Prosecco (no small feat), put the finished roast in the fridge, I grabbed some knitting, and off we went.
The triage nurse told me it would be a minimum of three hours, and to go home, they’d call. With Covid, I wasn’t allowed inside and after all, “He doesn’t seem to be having a heart attack right now,” she said.
Turns out looks can be deceiving. The evening wore on. After blood tests, they scratched the planned morning stress test and scheduled an angiogram instead. Three hours stretched to overnight. The next morning – overnight stretched to ten days.
“His heart function is normal,” the cardiologist told me, “but he has serious blockages in his heart arteries. Results are best with bypass surgery, rather than stints, in this case.”
“Ah…,” I answered, scrambling for the optimism he offered, “I have a friend that I trained with that had a quad bypass, and went on to get a black belt…”
“I love hearing stories like that!” enthused the cardio, “his will be a similar case. He’s in really great shape, and this will have him feeling better than ever… it’s not about the number of bypasses, after all…”
“So, how many are we talking here, doc?”
“Well… five.”
Wow. High score.
So hubby came home ten days later, and is convalescing in our living room, feet up, coffee at his elbow, when I head to the meeting with my consultant. I get the ball rolling:
“So, what are three things I can improve on this week?” I ask.
She nods, then asks, “In what areas?”
This is easy. The stressful week and a half has really simplified my priorities. “Work, health, happiness,” I reply.
She nods and addresses each area, starting with acknowledgement of what is going right, and pinpointing one minor improvement.
We both know my ambitious work schedule has gone to crap during this time. I am frustrated and guilty, but she reminds me that self-employment offers this flexibility, showing me the bright side. Then she says, “Let’s get a schedule going again, but not full bore. How about 3 hours instead of 6 hours a day, the rest of this week… doable?”
I feel 100 pounds lift from my soul, “Yes! What a relief to know I can do this and feel like I fulfilled something this week.”
“Great. Now health – you’ve done great on food logging and keeping the calorie goal close. The higher-intensity workouts you had planned have been an emotional struggle, haven’t they?”
I nod.
“That’s because you’re stressed, and it lowers your willpower reservoir. You’re just tapped. Movement is good, but it doesn’t have to be uber-intense. Great job listening to your body! How about this – to help with that clogged, low-energy feeling, a commitment to ten minutes of movement first thing in the morning? Whatever kind you want. Just set up the pathways in your brain for the day, for movement and connection.”
I’m so excited by this idea, I tear up. Ten minutes of whatever. I can do Tai Chi, Yoga, walk in circles, or lie on the mat and wave my limbs in the air – FREEDOM. “YES!”
“Great, and now happiness. I think getting back to a bit of a work and movement schedule will prime this last part. You’ve stayed off alcohol, mostly, during this time, and that is really helping. But you’ve struggled with fun, haven’t you, for a while?”
“Yep,” I sigh, dreaming of sunny afternoons on the brewpub patio.
“Ok, let’s gather some data. I want you to spend 5 minutes three times a day writing down what would be fun in that moment. Don’t filter it, don’t just write what’s possible in that moment, but what would light you up and get you out of the chair. At the end of the week, we will see patterns, and be able to bring some of those things into your life.”
Wow. “Fun… wow, I just realized fun has been so elusive, because it gets filtered,” she nods and I continue, “For example, I want to go kayaking, but I don’t have a kayak, and I don’t know enough about the sea currents to be confident, so I give up contemplating fun, and decide I’m not allowed. But you are saying write kayaking down, anyway.”
“Yup. Some things will be doable right away, and some we can plan to bring in. I want you to exercise your ‘fun’ muscle, to begin to recognize desire again.”
This woman is brilliant. I should have hired her years ago.
Oh wait, I did.
She works for free, did I mention that? I had her in a role before that wasn’t a good fit, with minimal expectations. She really did her best, but with no boundaries, became very negative and critical in my life.
She is my inner critic turned life coach. We’ve tried sitting down to coffee for vent sessions, and while those at least made her voice clear, it wasn’t nearly as helpful as asking her to provide professional level helpful input. Putting her in business clothes and bringing her in as a valued coach changed everything. Suddenly she can see the good and the places I can improve. Her insight is keen. Turns out those sharp eyes can also see the positive things I miss.
And when you’re a professional, there are expectations, so she doesn’t rant. She exhorts.
I don’t feel so alone now.
If you’re feeling stuck, unable to see a way forward, maybe try this exercise. Offer the job of coach to your inner critic, and hold them to the same standard you would a live, external one that you hired. A great coach holds you accountable, but also holds up your accomplishments.
It’s about forward movement, not perfection.
All the best,
Diana
Helpful! Thanks, Diana!