TRUST LIES IN ITS PRACTICE

One of the greatest gifts this work has given me is my relationship with my coach. At its core, that relationship is built on trust, and it allows me to step into possibilities that simply weren’t available to me before.

As someone deeply committed to integrity, I’ve spent much of my life ensuring that I’m not blindly leading others — coaching from a place of arrogance or unconscious incompetence. The last thing I want is to be the person preaching about leadership and blind spots while being unwilling to walk that same path myself.

But the more I tried to get ahead of this, the more tangled things became. It’s like constantly worrying about tripping while walking — I become so focused on the fourth step ahead that I can’t take the next one in front of me.

The gift of trust in my coaching relationship is that I don’t have to hold all of this on my own. I don’t turn my trust over to my coach as an individual, but to the relationship itself. I trust that she will reflect back to me what I cannot yet see — helping me discern it for myself, rather than making me dependent on her.

I don’t have to try and see what I cannot yet see. I can trust that I’m doing my best, and that I have a structure in place that supports me to see my blindspots as they come up, meet them with grace, and clean up any messes I make, and then take the next step in front of me.

The Cost of This Kind of Trust

This kind of relationship isn’t free. It demands something significant. For many, the path to it looks like a lot of distrust, skepticism, and resistance. Coaching conversations can feel like nonsense at times. They can be frustrating. The instinctive response is often to reject what’s being offered or to disengage entirely.

But the work isn’t about blindly accepting what my coach says, nor is it about stubbornly holding onto my current perspective. The work is about bringing my resistance into the relationship itself — saying, Hey, I’m struggling to hear you right now. Can we work through this together?

That’s the real edge, and doing so is vulnerable practice.

It demands that I turn over my protective mechanisms to the relationship. As long as I stay guarded, I ensure that no one can impact me — which keeps me safe, but also keeps me stuck.

Many people won’t choose this kind of relationship, not because it’s impossible for them, but because the cost feels too high in the moment. And that’s okay. This isn’t about making anyone wrong. It’s about recognizing where you are so you don’t create a false belief about your own readiness.

The Easier Path — and What Lies Beyond It

The easy way out is always to leave the relationship rather than bring your fears into it. If I’m struggling to trust my coach, the simplest option is to walk away. That spares me the discomfort of vulnerability, the fear of being seen, and the responsibility of articulating what I need.

But if I take that path, I also miss out on what’s on the other side — freedom.

Because when we develop this kind of trust, we don’t just deepen our ability to trust the relationship — we deepen our ability to trust ourselves. And that’s the foundation for everything.

If I can trust myself to keep coming back to the conversation, to bring my fears forward and to navigate what feels challenging, then I don’t have to live in the illusion of control. I don’t have to stay rigid or shut down. I can step into the unknown, knowing I’ll find my way.