One week into my ICC coach certification, and I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was getting into.
I thought I'd learn a method. Questioning technique, models, a framework to lean coaching conversations against. And I did get that – we've worked through the course binder up to tab five this week, practiced in groups, coached each other night after night, filled in a LISTA reflection paper every day to capture what stuck. What I didn't expect was how much of the week turned out to be about me.
Redan dag ett blev det tydligt att ordet ”coach” betyder olika saker för olika människor, och att jag hade en ganska smal bild av vad rollen faktiskt rymmer. Livshjulsövningen den första dagen överraskade mig mer än jag ville erkänna – jag har suttit i ledande positioner i över 20 år, coachat medarbetare, byggt team, men att rita ut mitt eget nuläge på pappret var något helt annat. Kunskap är inte kompetens, sa en av tränarna. Den meningen har följt mig hela veckan.
Then came the days of real practice. Turning a vague question into a concrete one. Reframing a solution as a question instead of handing over the answer. Listening for what someone is actually leaning toward, not just what they say. I've always asked a lot of questions – it's simply how I'm built – but doing it with this level of precision, while keeping myself out of the answer, is a different sport altogether.
Det som har förvånat mig mest är hur mycket kursen har tvingat mig att se över mina egna övertygelser. Vilka mål som faktiskt är mina, och vilka jag bara har ärvt eller programmerat in i mig själv genom år av att ”lyckas”. Jag har byggt mycket av min karriär på tanken att allt är möjligt om man bara vill det tillräckligt mycket, och det har tagit mig långt. Men den här veckan har lärt mig att skilja på driv som kommer inifrån och driv som kommer av vana.
I have a compass rose tattooed on my arm. It reminds me of a time when I was lost and had to find my way back, mostly on my own. It's the same image I return to every time I mentor through Trygga Barnen, a Swedish organization supporting children in families under strain – I don't want to hand anyone a ready-made compass; I want to help them find their own. This week reminded me that as a coach, I need to make that exact journey myself, again and again, before I can ask anyone else to.
This is also the first week, since I lost my best friend in January after an eight-year fight with cancer, that I've genuinely felt I'm living up to the promise I made myself at her bedside: stop waiting, start living. This training is a direct result of that conversation. Sitting here, five days in, feeling a little more grounded each day, feels like proof the decision was right.
Next week the journey takes a different shape – I'm heading to Denmark with my new colleagues at SAM International for an introduction at headquarters. Then, in September, the coach training continues: more tabs, more exercises, hopefully more uncomfortable insights. Two journeys starting almost at once, one inward and one outward – and I have a feeling they're going to get along quite well. Neither one is something you get through. They're journeys you let change you, a little at a time.
When did you last have to separate a goal that was genuinely your own from one you'd simply inherited?
