We are all on the journey
I am still discovering, as I move through the middle part of my life, how my own stories, and those I have inherited, have got me to where I am, and how I can reframe them or imagine new ones for the years to come. As I age, I realise there is no such thing as ‘arrival’ - just change and growth.
In many ways, my story is not so unusual. Everybody has had a life. As a teenager my family moved a lot - different houses, new schools. At 16 I underwent spinal surgery. When I was in my early twenties, I suffered from two family suicides and from a long-held depression. Like so many, I became aware, with shock, that I was a survivor of childhood abuse. Much later in life, I learned that I am a survivor of Cptsd. I got married, got divorced, and brought up a child. Resources were scarce, and I became estranged from family just as I started my own. I spent two decades working as an English and drama teacher, studying brain-based learning, and as a senior leader in curriculum and strategy. Everyone has a story.
Maybe what is more unusual is the way I processed some of the things life threw at me.
As a young woman I spent some time as a Buddhist nun. I travelled as much as I could, and I trained in authentic Chinese Feng Shui and astrology. I was mapping things, looking at the bigger picture, the context. I read tarot cards, and tried to work in rhythm with nature, to see the patterns and cycles that connected things. I explored my sexuality and alternative relationship structures, on the edges of the mainstream, experimenting.
These strategies always brought me back to my mind, to my habits. I realised how much of the un-resolved struggles of my life were also held in my body, locked into the sinews. I began the task of connecting the two, of releasing on all levels. Over time, I became more able to manage my own journey, to panic less and breathe more.
In my outer world I tried to help others I worked with - teenagers, staff, clients, friends - to see things from different perspectives, to create alternative narratives. I found I was really good at supporting people to look at the patterns of thought and behaviour they were lost in, that were stopping them from achieving what they wanted - whether it was a career move, an exam result or a relationship choice that seemed to be stuck in a loop.
I developed the skill to get to the crux of things quickly, to pinpoint the exact nature of the obstacle holding things up.
In Feng Shui we look at this pattern as energy, and shift things around to form new, healthy patterns. It is no different in the mind.
My teenage spinal surgery has left me with a chronic condition and I have made a decision to not medicate it with opioids. So I am working on neuroplasticity exercises to manage pain, and exploring the mind body connection further, like my life depends on it - although I may never be pain free. I discover more and more that we can also use the body to access habitual mental patterns - and often it is a better route in than endless thinking.
I only really ‘owned’ some of the deep narratives, at the age of 50, after many years of work, therapy, and bravado. I am certain my body trauma is connected to the other challenges, and we must heal as a whole.
My approach to coaching is formed by my experiences, as of course it must be.
I don’t like those battle metaphors about beating and vanquishing. What I know is that life is about getting along as well as we can, acting with humour and compassion towards ourselves and others, and integrating our pain - not fighting it. It is about diligently applying ourselves to chip away at the things that are holding us back, with a beginner’s mind, whatever our age.
Narrative coaching, in some remarkable alchemy, offers me a chance to do the things I love and the things I can do well - drama and deconstructing stories, finding the knot that needs untying, managing emotional and body pain, engaging in serious play, making plans with coloured pens, and then really getting to grips with facing habits and getting stuff done. The culmination of my own learning so far means I now have something exciting and useful to impart.
My approach to coaching is not about me knowing better, but about meeting you where you are, listening to your stories, helping you to locate them in your mind and your body, and inviting you to use the coaching process as the first step on a journey of experimentation with new ways of being.
A friend asked me recently what I most enjoy about coaching. It was a good question. The answer is that I have the chance to accompany someone as they explore their life goals, untangle their relationships, or find a spiritual focus. Reframe their story.