Coaching Vs. Therapy, A Metaphor

Imagine you live in a house. You’ve lived here your whole life. You’re very used to all the sights and sounds, all the furniture and decor. It’s home.

Then something breaks. Maybe you can fix it yourself, a lightbulb blows and you replace it. Maybe… you can’t. You have to call a plumber, an electrician, a contractor. 

That’s therapy.

They’re trained professionals. Their job is to analyze the situation, how it happened, how it can be prevented, how it can be fixed. You have to let them in, pay them, and most likely even assist them in fixing up whatever broke. They can assess structural problems with the house and tell you how best to fix or tolerate them. 

For example, I have depression and anxiety. My contractor (read: therapist) came in and told me that there was a structural issue, but with daily maintenance, the house was still perfectly livable. That’s why I take my meds. They come in periodically to inspect and assess and tweak my system, but the daily work is up to me.

Now imagine that you wake up one morning and realize you HATE the furniture in your living room. Or the color of your bedroom. But you have no idea where to go furniture shopping, or what color of paint would better suit your personality, or even how to wield a paint roller.

So who do you call?

An interior designer. 

(This is where the coach enters the metaphor)

But this is no normal interior designer. 

They’re not going to show up with throw pillows and a pre-established set of “rules” for what a “good” house looks like.

Instead, maybe they show up with paint chips. And magazines. Armed to the teeth with tools for inspiration.

You sit down with them. Hours, maybe days, pass. You refine your vision, learn a touch of color theory, get in touch with what truly matters to you in your space.

Now that you have a vision of what you want, you’re overjoyed!

And overwhelmed.

Where do you even start?

A good interior designer isn’t going to be satisfied with a vision. Maybe they give you an assignment - go buy painting supplies. Move furniture. Paint a single wall.

Some days they might ask you to do a task that feels impossible. You try it anyway. The next time they come back, they don’t critique your work. Instead, they asked what you learned by trying it. Suddenly, you’ve got new confidence in your own skills.

Stuck moments happen. They’re an inevitable part of the creative process. You hate this couch but can’t figure out why. You’ve tried reupholstering, moving, decorating, and you’re still grumpy. The designer comes in and sits down next to you, just to experience what you’re feeling. Then they suggest, could the springs be broken?

They give you the permission you’ve been craving to throw out the broken couch. Even though it’s a very old gift from your parents. As you do, you realize: you never needed their permission. It's your house.

The interior designer’s job doesn’t end when the process is over. You’re going to be living in this house for the rest of your life, and will probably never stop tweaking the details.

The interior designer’s job ends when you feel maximally empowered to make the changes yourself.

What change have you been craving?