Understanding Human Psychology

  Coaching is designed to create shifts for the coachee — but if you stay with it long enough, you’ll notice something else quietly changing: you . Every coaching conversation opens a window into another person’s world, deepening your empathy. You witness raw vulnerability — and start embracing your own. You hold space for others to empty their hearts — and become a better listener in the process. You help someone chase their goals — and get nudged toward your own. Coaching transforms the coachee. But in doing so, it shapes the coach — slowly, subtly, and profoundly. What has coaching made you become — not just as a coach, but as a human being?

  I recently started reading How Women Rise by Sally Helgesen and Marshall Goldsmith, and the first chapter struck a deep chord. It talked about how women often feel guilty or ashamed of their ambition. That line hit home for me. There were times I questioned myself: Am I being too ambitious for my age? For the stage of life I’m in? For the background, I come from? Maybe you’ve had those thoughts too — shaped by subtle messages from family, culture, or society. Sometimes not even told outright, just picked up like background noise growing up. But here's what I’ve learned — ambition is not arrogance. It's a dream in motion. The world’s most impactful leaders — women and men — weren’t apologetic about dreaming big. They rose because they dared to see beyond what existed. I'm thankful to my family and especially my husband, who saw my spark and never tried to dim it. That support has meant everything. But I also believe even without it, ambition should still be honoured, nur...

 Parenting, I’ve realized, is less about teaching and more about learning. In the early days, I would get so worked up watching my daughter mix all her paint colours into a brownish mush, splattering it across the paper—and sometimes, her face and hands. I would cringe at the mess, the stained clothes, the stickiness of it all. “Why can’t she just stick to the colouring book?” I’d ask myself. But one day, something shifted. I watched her dip her fingers into the red, then yellow, then blue. She wasn’t just painting—she was exploring . She was learning how red turns orange, how paint feels on skin, how colours mix to create new ones. It was all sensory play: touch, sight, even smell. It was art. It was science. It was joy. And I was the one who was missing the point. She wasn’t making a mess—she was making meaning. From that day on, I began to pause before reacting. I began to see her world, not through my lens of order, but through hers of discovery. I learned to breathe, smile, an...

  Have you ever felt guilty for sleeping in on a holiday because your child’s breakfast wasn’t ready? Or skipped your workout because you had to pack a lunchbox—even when you knew leftovers were just fine? What about the guilt of choosing silence for yourself over small talk, or taking a long bath while someone else waits for dinner? We tell ourselves stories: “How can I?” “What kind of mother/partner/child would do that?” But these stories, while noble on the surface, often hide deep-rooted self-sabotage. Coaching conversations have shown me how often people hesitate to “put on their own oxygen mask first.” And yet, how can you help others breathe if you’re gasping for air yourself? Self-care isn’t selfish. It’s a life skill. It’s a leadership act. It’s a parenting practice. And more than anything—it’s your right. It takes confidence to say, “I deserve a moment.” But confidence is exactly what you get when you allow yourself that moment. What’s one “guilt-driven” act you could re...

  In coaching, one of the most powerful things we can do is honour the client’s metaphor—not just hear it, but hold space within it. Recently, I was speaking with a coachee who had made steady progress toward a personal goal. As we reflected on the journey, I asked, “What would you want to do to speed up the process?” He replied, “I wouldn’t want to speed it up. This is the optimal speed. I want to be cautious. I want to ride the boat at a speed that doesn’t make me topple.” And just like that, the metaphor emerged: the boat . As we sailed further into the conversation, he continued to build on this imagery. He spoke about milestones as islands he passed. He described how with each step, he added new tools, skills, and responsibilities to his boat. That session stayed deeply rooted in his metaphor—and it felt natural, intuitive, and authentic. When a client presents a metaphor, it’s a portal into their inner landscape. They are choosing a symbol that feels safe and familiar. When w...