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Coach Approach

When is it ok to tell your story?

Sadness alert: When my dad very suddenly died in 2017, I had terrible amounts of pain in my chest and in my throat, in my stomach, and legs. It was all I could do to show up for a few carefully-chosen clients, and I cut down my hours significantly for months because my own pain was so easily triggered. I started my "extreme self-tenderness" routine because it was all so raw. 

I was so thankful in that season for the training I had received with Brené Brown's organization to become a facilitator…

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How is your metaphor holding you back?

I once had a client whose overarching metaphor in the coaching was bike riding. She told me that she felt like she was trying to ride on the back of someone else’s bike--her boss’s bike, her mom’s bike, her sister’s bike. And they kept “falling over” and “getting their legs tangled”.

We developed this metaphor with a lot of laughter, and it became a focal point of our sessions in many areas of her work and personal life.

She used "riding my own bike" to find the part of herself that was capabl…

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What is your body saying that you're not?

Just a few days ago, a client made a hand gesture, like grabbing something with determination and raising her fist up. It was a very powerful move, and clearly held meaning for her.

How would you respond as an expert listener?

- I could have ignored the gesture completely, and focused on her words (one of the most common coaching responses early on)

- I could have asked her to describe what she is experiencing as she raises her fist (ooooh, smart move, coach!)

- Or, I could let go of my need…

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How we know for sure that all men are a bunch of m*ckity-mucks

Pardon my French. It seems like swearing and F-bombs are par for the course in a lot of blogs and newsletters I receive, and I really admire all those of you who can swear like sailors, but I'm just not very good at it yet. So, you'll probably see words like "m*ckety-mucks" in my writing. Sorry, not sorry.

But I digress. We were going to talk about how we know things. Like that thing, we all know about men.

Let's start with something simpler than men. Like a ball.

I know what a ball is like. …

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I jumped back in terror! and then laughed...

One day, I was walking down a woodland path, enjoying the sun shining to my left onto the pond, and the peaceful sounds of the breeze rustling through the leaves overhead. Suddenly, I saw a huge snake to the right side of the path, its head held up at an angle ready to strike. My heart pounded in my chest for a millisecond and I leaped back in terror. My actions were instinctual and rapid. I took no time to analyze or think through my motivations.

However, once I had jumped back, I stopped and …

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The secret brain tips of napping babies

Do you wish you were a baby? Like you're trying to take it all in, but then you just need a nap? 

Seriously - think about watching a newborn baby attempting to take in sensory information. You will remember the startle reflex, the adjustments when the skin touches water, the quick eye movements when a new sound is heard, the response to light, color, texture, internal body sensations, etc.

The sheer number of sensations are overwhelming and the infant soon falls asleep and tries again after se…

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Why I'm not a hugger even though I love hugging

Hugging is a huge specialty of mine. I'm a pretty soft, snuggly person, and my family members count on me for big hugs throughout the day. I love it, and it's my favorite job as a mom.

Just this morning, my daughter came down the stairs with her arms wide open. Mine were wide open, too, and we held a long squeeze while I told her the usual, "You're so wonderful! I'm so glad I'm your mom." 

Still, there's a huge difference between what I do and who I am. I don't always hug everyone. Sometimes I…

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What I learned about community from killing mosquitos

I remember the flood of emotions one sunny morning when I saw my two-year-old daughter covered with large welts. We were on vacation in Tunisia, and I had thought to carefully cover her cot with a mosquito net, but apparently, one rascal had made it through and had spent the night with her.

Angrily, I grabbed my slipper and began smashing the mosquitos I saw hovering around on the walls. My fury increased as they splattered human blood onto the white-washed surfaces. 

My two-year-old grew very s…

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