Coaching and connections: A not so small part of my story

Someone recently told me, “No-one cares about your story”. Their intention was positive, and I somewhat agree. You don’t land on my homepage to read my life story, you arrive because you need a coach, or a writer, so you’re interested in what I can do for you. But. The comment got me thinking… Is it really true that no-one cares…? Well, that kind of depends on who is looking.

When I’m looking to work with someone, I don’t just want the best person for the job (although that is important), I’m also looking for a connection. Why should I choose this person, over all the other fantastic service providers who will get me the same results? For me, knowing a little more of their story could be the difference that makes the difference, particularly when I’m looking to work with a coach, supervisor or therapist, where the relationship is key to my development.

puddles_WritingPeoplePoetrySo, with this in mind, today I wanted to share with you a part of my story* that is always present, and particularly today. On this date in 2007, my mum passed away. I won’t go into the details, except to say that it was sudden, unexpected, and, coupled with somewhat related events, wiped me out emotionally for a little over two years. It was around this time that I fell out of love with words for a while, as I struggled to connect back to my passions. Time does heal, but the grief still bubbles to the surface from time to time.

 

Fast forward two years to 2009, and my boss at the time (still a mentor of mine) suggested an NLP course for me. I was in two minds but I decided to sign up. Best decision ever. It was during this course that people started to say I was “a natural coach”. I used to think I was pretty good at giving people advice. Wrong! I was (and am!) good at helping people to find their own solutions, to change the direction of the less desirable stories they find themselves living. I’m good at helping people find inner confidence, move past ‘stuckness’ and overwhelm and gently guiding them to reconnect with themselves. I do all of this from a place of connection.

People_WritingPeoplePoetryGuess who role modelled the importance of connection in relationships? Mum. She was a master connector, forging deep and meaningful relationships and making friends for life everywhere she went. Sometimes, she talked a lot about herself. Sometimes people would share equally, others not so much. I realise now that this willingness to be open, and therefore vulnerable, is where the deeper connections were made.

So, I guess this post, on this date, is sort of a public Thank You, to Mum, for inspiring and motivating me to keep on and to remember that no matter what happens, as people, “we are here for each other”. And these connections live on even when we don’t.

So, maybe it’s true that no-one cares about my story. And maybe it’s not. Either way, I care about yours. Care to share a small part of your story in the comments below?

Like this? Sign up for more!*This post was just a small part of my story. I’ll be sharing more small parts, including thoughts from some of my mentors, teachers, clients and friends in the coming months. Be sure to sign up so you don’t miss any!

8 thoughts on “Coaching and connections: A not so small part of my story

  1. Great article Rachael and thanks for sharing your story about your mum. She sounds like a very inspirational lady.

    I agree and disagree about the who is interested in your story comment. I do think that in certain situations people do not need/want to know our story. However, if we are talking about forming a connection or friendship, I think mutual trust is important and necessary and how can this happen, if we do not share some of our stories? I also think that those of us that are in the profession of service to others, (whether in a professional capacity or not) sharing your story can do a lot to empower someone to try or at least consider possibilities, that they might not have otherwise considered. Or even form a long lasting friendship. I suspect your mum empowered lots of people in this way.

    • Hi Julie,

      Yes, I really think she did. She wasn’t perfect (who is?) but as time goes on I’m understanding more and more how much she empowered all those around her even (perhaps even especially) when she was feeling less than powerful herself. Thanks for commenting an I’m looking forward to chatting next week! 🙂

  2. This is a really moving post Rachael and I for one care about your story and I’m certain that I’m not alone. I’m sorry to hear about your loss of your Mum, she sounds like a wonderful person. Honestly, I think making connections is the most important part of life – without it where are we? Where’s the meaning? Where’s the joy? And so someone with a gift like that is to be treasured – as your Mum was and as, I’m sure, you are too. I’m always interested in people’s stories and I would have thought in your profession it’s important to give something of yourself. Looking forward to meeting you so we can get to know each one another better. Thanks for linking to #WhatImWriting. xx (oh, and I LOVE that poem!)

  3. What a beautiful post, and I agree with you that knowing something of a professional’s backstory can make the difference between being hired (or not hired!).

    I’m really sorry to hear about your loss. It sounds like your mum was a remarkable woman. “I realise now that this willingness to be open, and therefore vulnerable, is where the deeper connections were made.” Those are wise words indeed.

    I lost my dad when I was 15 and yes, it still hurts so I can, in some way, empathise with your loss. Sending hugs and best wishes, xx

    • Thank you Marija! Yes she was rather remarkable. I think grief never really goes completely away for those closest to us, there will always be those odd moments (some particularly odd I find) when we feel that we still need them and the loss hurts all over again. And then there are the still laugh-out-loud moments we remember at random times, and it’s almost like they’re back with us, for a moment. 🙂

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