September was quiet around here.
The official version: I was traveling. The honest version: I hadn't planned ahead. And I'd love to call that an oopsy, but I know exactly how it happens. For one thing, I truly dislike writing, not my jam, so it takes me extra energy to feel excited about it. Second, my ideas arrive like fireworks. Dozens of them, loud, bright and moving, all at once. I do enjoy that, I find this exciting “oooh and then we could, oulala, what about this…?”
And the moment I reach out to catch one, everything freezes. Because a thing that never starts can't be judged. So I don't start. And September slips by, and I’m entering the fall season the same way the leaves are piling on the ground; I’m piling, different shades of guilt, shame, embarrassment and more shame.
My procrastination is my inner perfectionist's favorite treat. They love it. They would, wouldn’t they, since it’s keeping them and me safe from the outside world! In my head, they tell me I can paint like Frida Kahlo. In real life, I don’t even paint, cause why bother even trying, I’ll never be like Kahlo. It’s twisted I know. And it erodes my self-confidence so much!
When my perfectionist is having a field day, I feel all over the place, overwhelmed, and in despair sometimes. And they have been loud in every chapter of my life for as long as I’ve had my teddy bear: a daughter, a CODA, a partner, a coach, a trainer, a facilitator, and a supervisor. In each of those roles, the same question underneath it all: am I allowed, just as I am?
That's why I coach what I coach. I didn't pick presence and confidence from a Barbie catalogue, I picked the fight I know best from the inside.
In the comedy series Scrubs revival, Dr. Cox says this old medical adage to a trainee (before a magnificent cynical rant he’s known for): "Ya know, it used to be 'see one, do one, teach one". I loved that so much, I checked if it was a true thing. Apparently, it’s often attributed to Dr. William Stewart Halsted, the late-19th-century American surgeon and founding professor at Johns Hopkins Hospital.
Years of seeing and doing have brought me to the teaching and coaching phase, and coaching has made one thing wonderfully clear.
A client put words on it for me recently, at the end of a session, with a little laugh:
"Phew, we work deep, but you make things fun!"
Nine words. I've been carrying them ever since. They made me so happy — partly because they're true, and partly because I could never have described my own style that well. And because, it made me realise why keeping things fun is so important to me. It’s been helping me all along to keep my perfectionist (and my imaginary impostor) in check.
Deep, for me, means the “real stuff”: identity work, core beliefs, the stories we tell ourselves about who we're allowed to be. We're not rearranging furniture there; we're moving freaking mountains!
And fun, to me, is not the opposite of deep, it is what makes deep more accessible. When we laugh, our shoulders drop. Humor lifts the heaviness — and, best part, it makes my inner perfectionist sound a lot less threatening. Sometimes, in one of my little crises, I picture them wearing ridiculous clothes. Big red clown shoes, green baggies, purple polka-dot overalls. Whoa. No need to be so dramatic pal.
So if you come coach with me, I won't pretend it's comfortable. Expect some discomfort, some confusion, maybe even some anxiety — that's simply what a mountain feels like when it starts to shift. And expect laughter. Not to distract from the deep, but to make room for it. Both things, at once.
If "deep, but fun" sounds like the way you'd like to grow, my next cohort is starting very soon. Grounded Presence & Confidence - Embodied group coaching for multicultural leaders. Six weeks, six live two-hour sessions, in a circle of no more than six people.
Online, so you can join from wherever you are. We start Tuesday November 10, and this intimate cohort has a limited number of spots at founding pricing. Message me if you’re curious.
6 Tuesdays in your life, to experiment and experience something new, deep and fun - doesn’t sound too dramatic, does it?
In the mess with you—as we are,
Jess
PS: Find more information about the Whats and the Hows of the next cohort on my website.
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