Hello Moment, nice to meet you!
My coaching practice was in its infancy when the pandemic started in March 2020.
I was recently out of a long-term partnership and living in my hometown of St. Louis, MO. St. Louis was supposed to be an interim landing pad before I moved with my partner to either Vermont or North Carolina (our top contenders after a cross country road trip to pick a new place to live). But then we broke up and in the messy early weeks of being single again, I felt called to decide if I – alone – would fulfill my commitment to move somewhere new. Before shit hit the fan globally, I spent the month of February 2020 in the wildcard-last-minute-contender of Portland, OR imagining a life for myself there.
Portland was lush and green and I felt awake and alive. On one of my epic exploratory walks and in the middle of trying to make a decision about moving, I came face-to-face with a Ramona Quimby statue. The bronze smiling face of one of my literary favorites compelled me to say YES to trying out life in Portland. When I got on a plane back to St. Louis in early March, I was ready to pack up my belongings and relocate myself and Growing Home Coaching to the PNW.
Make it stand out
March 1, 2020 after I stumbled across Ramona.
And then, the day after I got back to Missouri, quarantine started in most U.S. cities. All my certainty melted away. Could I seriously road trip across the country, by myself, to relocate to a new city at this moment in time? Those early days were so frightening and I – like many people – felt consumed by a busy brain: WTF, what if, what now, what next?!
My post-breakup, temporary roommate politely asked me to move out of her home – quickly please! – and I hauled all my worldly possessions (for the third time in a year) into my childhood home in a suburb of the city. I spent the first three months of the pandemic there, figuring out how to navigate this new world with my parents and their dog Bea. You might recall that fear amongst older folks was really heightened in those early days, and I felt purposeful acquiring food and supplies for my parents, cooking, walking the dog, and sourcing quality masks.
My coaching practice moved to my tiny childhood bedroom. Many of my clients were freaking out and seeking reassurance. It was dizzying trying to effectively coach other humans in exactly the same predicament I found myself in!
What would they think if they found out I was coaching them while sitting on my twin bed or at the desk I did my high school homework at? What would they say if they found out their coach had her whole life in boxes in the basement of the house she grew up in, stranded in a life that wasn’t the one she wanted? The challenge of being a new, uncertain coach during a globally chaotic time was not lost on me.
This is the first pandemic I’ve coached during, I’m in over my head, I uncomfortably joked to my mentor coach, laughing stiffly.
What did it mean to be a coach at this moment? How could I show up as an effective collaborator, space-holder, and coach when I was deep in the same muck as my clients?
Meeting this moment
I’m reminded of those early days of my coaching practice as I struggle to meet this moment of collective fear, traumatizing political activity, and way more questions than answers.
I’m trying to meet this moment as a coach – yes – but also as a sensitive, justice-oriented human deeply heartbroken over what’s happening.
I want to know what this time of deeply harmful and terrifying politics is asking of me. How do I show up thoughtfully and well resourced, in my life and in my coaching practice?
I took the month of January off of all social media and it’s encouraged me to be super intentional about how I consume news and information right now. And because I've had the space away from doom scrolling, I’ve gotten to really hear myself articulate the same thing over and over again:
I am trying to increase my capacity to be with uncertainty and discomfort.
Easy enough, right? 😅
When I say that I am trying to grow my capacity to “be with” all this, I mean that I am practicing really feeling the stuff I find most difficult instead of numbing out, dissociating, or avoiding altogether. Letting myself feel is growing my confidence that I can be with all this: I can weather even the stormiest times.
This is not about endurance or force: it’s about acknowledgement and being present with what is here now.
Feeling helps me put down the need to understand everything. This requires me to also accept the contradictions that emerge. For instance, I know that right now I am often very afraid, yet I also feel closer to my courage. Every time I acknowledge how little I know and let myself face the mystery, I am daring to embody fearlessness. In a time of such great panic there is also fierce determination. In a time of unpredictability, there is groundedness.
My practice is deeply informed by my learning in somatic spaces and the work of The Embodiment Institute (TEI). As TEI wrote to participants of a post-election embodiment practice: "We know that the world can feel overwhelming with despair, chaos, and uncertainty. We are grateful to be risking together to feel our outrage instead of numbing, to feel grief instead of shutting down, and to find connection instead of isolating in the hard and heavy moments."
TEI believes that this type of practice is transformational for ourselves and our communities. Writing in their thoughtful newsletters, TEI shares that feeling moves us "towards what we care about in the world" and connects us to "our visions for ourselves and the future." I crave that connection and long to participate in world-shifting change.
I believe that my expanded ability to be wildly uncomfortable is the foundation I am going to stand on. I am committed to being a collaborative, imaginative, big-hearted member of the collective and right now, for me, showing up means showing up uncomfortable. So I better work at being more skillful with that! I better feel what that feels like!
As I tune in and practice, I'm noticing how resistance shows up, thinking it will protect me. Years of working on "my shit" has me aware that on the other side of resistance I often experience the greatest transformation and significant change. (As contrary as this may seem.) I might need a bit more encouragement, but getting through resistance is often fruitful.
Though I find myself impatient to get more adept at being with and feeling more, my awkward struggle feels like a sign to keep going rather than an invitation to stop. I’m leaning into my ethos to let this take the time it needs. I'm remembering that eventually new practices become familiar. I am trying to trust that I can tolerate the uneasiness of growing a practice.
I hope this expansion of capacity is part of my survival toolkit and will allow me to stay present and rebellious during a time that needs those parts of me.
This is my current imperfect and messy practice! What are you practicing?
Moving Towards Uncertainty
Coaches often joke, “Your clients will bring you your life.” Clients will show up to a session seeking support on the very thing you are struggling with or working on. We are trained, of course, to navigate this tender space but it is still an amusing truth of the profession.
Growing a coaching practice during a pandemic and now this particular political moment are broad examples of "your clients will bring you your life." Right now my clients are showing up with big feelings and I want them to know it's welcome in the coaching space and something we can be with together. I'm also overwhelmed right now and at times desperate to “figure it out” instead of feel it.
What if certainty isn't required to move forward? We can proceed even when we have more questions than answers. We can take the position that our work is to grow our awareness, attention, and capacity rather than to fix, force, or figure out perfectly.
In these ways we can resource ourselves to better navigate so much discomfort and uncertainty. From this resourced place, I believe necessary change and “good trouble” is more possible.
Finally – very importantly – let's remember that we don’t have to face the hardest moments alone. It's part of what I love about coaching: the collaborative partnership! Coaching can be a radical container that acknowledges what’s really going on while also keeping us dreaming of what’s possible. In a time of rapid, destabilizing change, I suspect many of us are being called to do some big learning and unlearning. I know I am not the only one facing myself in ways that are deeply informed by the times we are living through.
I am fearful and I am fierce. I am hesitant and I am eager. I am aware and I am deeply confused. I am letting myself be with all of these contradictions and intense feelings with less judgement and more curiosity. And I am here to support doing this work in relationship, if you need the space to do the same.
We can grow our capacity to be with the unknown and feel along the way. We can expand to meet this moment.
