Few people dream as children of becoming a coach when they grow up. The clichés run to more glamorous, limelight-stealing jobs, like movie star, or rap singer, or President. As a shy, awkward kid I wanted to be a writer because I loved the world of books and thought that creating those little universes would be the coolest thing possible.
I did become a writer; I never thought of becoming a coach too. But growing up a pattern established itself that would inevitably lead to coaching. It’s easy to see in retrospect, but at the time life was just chaotic and frightening.
What was this (chaotic, scary) pattern?
My sister was born 10 months and 19 days before I was. We were like twins from the outset. We shared a crib, and huddled together for warmth because my dad was military at the time and the walls of the base housing in New England were paper-thin and we could see our breath when we exhaled.
We spoke an imaginary language together before we learned to speak English. It was only a few hundred words, and I’ve sadly forgotten most of it now, but my first word in English that I got credit for was “hat,” which was actually “hath,” our word for “head.” I was wearing a little hat at the time, so the mistake was understandable, since I was pointing to my head.
My parents were a bit worried, I think, because my sister and I had shown no signs of speaking English. So they enthusiastically embraced “hath” as close enough to “hat” to be credible. I gradually left our imaginary world behind for English and more ordinary ways of communicating.
And there was another reason to worry. You see, my sister had been born with birth defects, and very early on showed the signs of mental illness that made her life a misery for virtually all of her 50 years until her death a few years ago.
I was her translator. I did my best to explain the world to her, and her to the world. The result was very early practice in entering the mind of someone else, seeing things from her (in this case crazy) point of view, and trying to bridge the gap between that mind and the reality out there.
As we grew up, her worldview became more distorted and paranoid, and it became more and more difficult to connect her to the world and the world to her. In the end, I failed, and she died without having been healed or even reconciled to a reality that failed her in so many ways.
Today I’m a coach because helping people realize their visions and connecting them with the world has been a part of my psychic makeup since childhood. Then, too, clients are easy because they’re so sane. Relatively speaking.
And each successful relationship maybe goes a little way toward repairing that one that I never can repair, that never could be repaired, that was beyond my help, that broke my heart.
That’s a beautiful way to explain why you are a coach, Nick — thanks.
Thanks, Geetesh. It wasn’t easy to talk about, so I appreciate the positive comment.
Thank you for this amazing story! You have a gift to share with the world!
Thank you Nick for sharing your story. It is very poignant and illuminates (in part) why you do what you do, so well.
Thanks, Charlotte. We think we choose our journey, but in retrospect, the way is laid out for us — at least in part.
Nick, your story makes so much sense – at the level of recognising the pattern and I think your purpose, as I believe we chose our path at spirit level before we come into the world.
Ali
Thanks, Alison — I deeply appreciate the support.
Good morning Nick
Thank you for sharing your story. A very powerful lesson in vulnerability and the willingness to share it. I fully appreciate and get how difficult that is.
My own journey in coaching began when giving lessons to fellow students when I was aged 16 after school When 19 I began coaching 14 year old kids in rowing.
I joined Toastmasters in 2007 which was sadly two years after Breda, my wife, has passed away aged just 43. In 2010 I was back in front of a class of 16 year old girls, one class per week, coaching in public speaking and have been there since. I have coached many individuals since, part-time only.
Your blogs and insights are contributing to my determination to commit to this vocation full-time. I feel it as vocation, a real passion and joy to help others to find their voice and their self confidence.
Thank you again for demonstrating the key to true authenticity is vulnerability.
Kind regards
John Keating
Thanks, John, for your story. Loss often motivates us to move forward — though it only feels like loss at the time.
Nick,
I have personally benefited from your exceptional coaching capability. Now knowing the connection between what you do so well and your experiences with your sister really help me appreciate your skills even more.
Thanks for sharing your personal story.
Vince
Thanks, Vince. Good to hear from you, as always!
Nick,
Thanks for you humanity and honesty. Your story touched a wonderful memory of my 15 month older sister who left us a few years ago. Blessings,
Rick Miller
Thanks, Rick. One so close never leaves you.
Nick, Thank you for sharing such a beautiful and heartfelt link between your early experiences with your sister and the excellent coaching you do now. Did this insight come to you in an “a ha” moment or more gradually?
Maureen, the understanding took a surprisingly long time to bubble up to my conscious mind. And then, suddenly, it was there — and obvious. It was the result of working on my book Power Cues and investigating my personal history as part of that research.
Nick, That is really interesting and it does make sense that your research and writing led to the insight. You can’t help but learn something about yourself when writing a book – I had the pleasure of writing a book with two colleagues on analytics last year and can appreciate how Power Cues would have helped that insight surface. Congratulations on the insight and a powerful book.
Was it another coach, Barbara Sher, who said the work we’re meant to do is often borne of an ache in childhood? This post got to me, Nick — more than anything else you’ve ever written. Which is saying a lot! Thank you.
Thank you, Maureen — always good to hear from my favorite radio show personality!
I’m speechless Nick — thank you for your vulnerability, honesty, and HUGE heart. This is why you are SO good at being a coach. You are in it for all the right reasons.
Thank you for your selfless commitment to everyone. Just don’t forget to take exquisite care of yourself, also — you deserve it!
Thanks, Michael — that’s a great reminder to all: take care of yourself, like they say in the airplane safety briefing, first.
Michael and Nick, speaking of vulnerability, I am always in awe of the power of Story–and her ability to build connection and trust.
Thanks, Peggy — and you’re absolutely right about story.
Nick,
Inspiring. Beautiful. Well-written.
I’ll remember this story often when I’m in coach mode.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks, Tom — appreciate it.
Thank you for sharing a bit of yourself. Makes you feel more like a friend!
Eva
Thank you, Eva!
This is storytelling at its best, Nick. You hooked me from the first sentence, then kept me reading with your strong voice, authenticity, love, humility, pain, and so much more.
I can’t imagine a single CEO whose speeches wouldn’t be massively improved through your services. I’ll also note: you’re one hell of a coach, too.
Regards,
Matthew
Thanks, Matthew — I really appreciate the kind words. Bring on those CEOs!
Your story is a testimony to compassion. Thanks for telling us. My heart goes out to your poor sister, wherever she has gone.
Thanks, Susan — always great to hear from you.
Thanks for being so personal and sharing your story. You are a beautiful person.
Thank you, Josh.