How I Was Born To Be A Coach

I was basically born a coach. This might sound like hyperbole to you, but since I was little, I had a knack for empathizing with others. I was always the kid on the playground who found the outsiders and made sure they were included. 

One of the favorite stories my parents like to tell illustrates this perfectly. When I was around 4 or 5 years old, we went out to dinner as a family to The Red Lobster (fancy, I know!). When I was finished slathering as much butter as possible onto my dinner roll (which I still do) and scarfing it down, I got up from the table and proceeded to make my way through the dining room stopping at table after table to say, “Hi. I’m Jess. Are you having a nice meal tonight?” This impulse to care for others is part of my wiring. 

Later, in high school, I joined the varsity badminton team (yes, that’s a thing) and in my second year on the team was voted to be the team Captain. You might think this was because I was one of the most skilled players, but you’d be wrong. I was selected because my teammates knew I cared, and they trusted me to lead. 

This is why strangers tell me their life stories in the grocery store. And it’s why when I worked in higher education administration, college students often confided in me about their struggles with identity, pressure from parents, and sexual assault. It’s also why when I worked in an inner city high school as a college and career access counselor, students whose racial and socioeconomic backgrounds were extremely different from my own made themselves at home in my classroom. 

This is the heart of coaching. Care. Holding a compassionate and supportive space for others to understand themselves, their desires, their needs, their beliefs, their behavior more deeply. 

I forget who said it, but I once heard the idea that giving someone or something our attention is the definition of love. When we’re listening to a friend’s story about their health challenges or listening to our partner recount their workday or listening to a child tell us every last detail of a story about their friend Madison, this is us doing love. 

When we are loved, when we are cared for, and when people give us their undivided attention, it allows our soft inner animal to relax into safety. And this is where the beautiful and juicy insights and transformations can happen. 

For me, coaching isn’t about yelling at you from the sidelines to push harder. It’s more of a quiet opening of my arms to let you rest here for a moment so that you can hear what your inner voice wants you to hear. 

And then from this gentle space to explore what next actions might feel the most joyful, the most easeful.