I’m not here to coach you
What happens when you slow down enough to see what’s actually there?
Prefer to listen, hit play:
I’m going to be honest.
Right now, I’m a coach who doesn’t have many clients at all and I’m completely fine with that. I never thought I would write that sentence!
I don’t have many clients and I’m definitely not going to put myself on some god awful social media posting plan or start frantically buying $27, $47, $97 offers that promise 10,000 clients in 10 days.
*enjoy my AI recreation below!!
None of that. It’s just not a priority right now. Which might sound a bit mad. However, it’s also freeing. It removes the urgency and pressure I feel when I see those ads, which is really just the pressure I put on my-self.
I love the women I work with.
So this isn’t because I don’t care. Or because I’ve lost faith in what’s possible for women.
It’s me. (Not the dreaded “it’s not you, it’s me” line…) Something in me has shifted.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the helper. The listener. The one who sees clearly.
The one people come to for answers. That’s just who I’ve been. People will often open up to me very deep, very quickly. My husband will often quip - “people tell you everything”. I didn’t realise that was a thing for the longest time. But it most definitely became a part of my identity.
And for a long time, I thought that was my role. To see what was going on,
to make sense of it and help people move forward. I’ll be honest, the people pleaser in me thrived on it for a long time.
But lately, I’ve felt tired in a way that’s hard to ignore. Deeply weary. Not burnt out exactly. I know burnout and this isn’t that.
I’m exasperated with what I’m seeing in the coaching space. Honestly, it pisses me off.
Because the more I’ve paid attention, the more I’ve realised:
Women don’t need more coaching in the way it’s currently being done.
Not more pressure.
Not more timelines.
Not more quiet expectations about how quickly things should change.
And definitely not more promises about “transforming your life” in a matter of weeks. This one is my utmost pet peeve!
That pace might sound good. Honestly, I’ve bought that sh*t before, so I know how tempting it is. When we’re in pain, we want it gone - FAST, so we go for a quick fix.
But it sets us up to fail.
Because it doesn’t match what actually happens when you’re trying to change something real.
Something that’s been there for years. Often decades.
Something tied up in who you’ve been, what you’ve carried and what you’ve learned to believe about yourself.
That stuff is often very old and most definitely not your fault and nor should the fact that you haven’t managed to “fix” your-self by now, be a reason to beat your-self up about.
That kind of change doesn’t happen quickly, nor should it and we need to normalise that being okay.
Often, when change doesn’t happen fast, women assume something is wrong with them. They internalise it. It becomes part of how they see themselves:
That they’ve failed.
That they’re not trying hard enough.
That they’re somehow behind.
I don’t believe that’s true. I think we’ve been given a version of change that doesn’t match reality. And I’m not willing to participate in that anymore.
In fact, I believe it’s detrimentally unhelpful and damaging.
I know firsthand what changes when we slow down.
And I can already hear the response: “I don’t have time.”
I get it.
When it already feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day, taking time for yourself to think, to feel, to just be, can feel like too much of an ask.
Just to be clear, slowing down in the way which is necessary to do the deep work, isn’t the same as the “me time” narrative that’s been pushed over the years!
We say we don’t have time to slow down and rarely question what it’s costing us not to.
If you never slow down, you never have to fully see what isn’t working. That’s really the crux of it. Slowing down allows you to reckon with the very deep underlying beliefs that have been in play for years. Some of the well worn patterns that once kept us safe are the very same that are now holding us hostage.
Those ones need deep love, self-compassion and time. And that’s okay.
That was me. To date, it’s also been the majority of the women I’ve coached.
Note - if that’s not you, that’s wonderful and I’m so glad this isn’t the case for all women.
What I can see now is that I wasn’t just busy, I was moving. Constantly. I now know that a lot of that movement was coming from fear.
I kept moving, kept talking, kept distracting my-self…
Slowing down showed me what was actually there.
And once I could see it, I couldn’t unsee it.
So no, I’m not stepping away from the work. But I am stepping into it differently.
I’m starting to realise it’s not answers people actually need.
Not more advice.
Not more direction.
Just the space to see what’s already there, without being rushed past it.
I’ve called this space Notes from the Slow Path.
Not because I have all the answers. But because I’m still in it.
Still noticing.
Still questioning.
Still seeing things I didn’t see before.
I don’t want this to be another place where I tell you what to do. It feels more honest to let this be something quieter than that.
Something we shape as we go. A place for connection, community and co-creation. A place where you can speak the unspeakable and show up exactly as you are.
I don’t think we’re meant to do this in isolation.
So if something lands, you’re welcome to reply.
Not because I’m here to fix anything, but because sometimes just putting something into words changes how it sits.
That’s the part that changed everything for me.
Not a decision.
Not a dramatic moment.
Just seeing clearly for the first time in a long time what was actually there.
And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
If something in this landed, you’re welcome to reply.
Not because I have all the answers, but because sometimes putting something into words is enough to shift how it sits.
That’s what this space is for.
There’s a bit more I want to say about that, especially what that actually felt like for me, before anything changed on the outside.
So I recorded a short audio for paid subscribers.
If you’re in that space too, you’re very welcome to come a little closer.
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.