Feeling safe in coaching study
I have two months of study before I qualify as a coach. It’s been an education in more ways than I expected. I’ve become a ‘gownie’ (part of the University of Cambridge). Most of my life has been spent as a ‘townie’ as we residents call ourselves in Cambridge, for those in the know -proudly part of the Romsey Massive. Statistically, that’s unusual since it took over 50 years of campaigning for women to have their education recognised.
As with all groups comes the introduction. Like many who are childless, not by choice, I think about the words long before I say them. Being too honest can instantly create judgment or pity.
Worse of all, it can create division.
I have no issue with parents. I am averse to any attempt to set childless (or child-free) against parents. It’s not a battle, and there are no winners. Conversely, there is a divide between me, my childless friends, and my parents. What we each care about most is motivated by our differences. How we live our lives is impossibly distinct because our daily structure is driven by other needs.
My life is not less because I didn’t get to choose it.
Trusting in others and remaining true to myself in a space where I was required to coach and be coached was a test of boundaries. I didn’t want to coach someone with a procreational dilemma and was thankful it didn’t happen, but I felt concerned that the guardrails would not be present if it arose. I guess the responsibility was on me, as it often is with those who feel unsafe and unseen. In my own practice, I have chemistry calls and intake forms to keep it safe.
And so an unsafe situation came about. I was placed in a space with a parent whose self-declared USP in coaching was humour. I had to significantly adjust my problem to one entirely fictitious to create a boundary; it was that or leave the space and lose out on an educational experience I had paid for.
At this point, I did consider jacking in the course, but I was aware of my superego telling me stories, and I leaned into the truth, which is that it’s tough on all sides. I am mindful that coaches with lived experiences are thin on the ground, too.
Parents do exist in my life. Childfree too. They listen to the Full Stop, and we travel far beyond the media’s view of them versus us. I admit that my best childless friends and I can eat cake, drink wine, and discuss the differences often, but that’s a safe space; we’re quick to honor what we know and, significantly, what we don’t know. The welcome part of having different friends who aren’t childless is that they show up too, sometimes messy and not without errors, but they are present.
My poker face was amiss that day in the unsafe space. In the next session, another student, already a coach (for parents) whom I assumed I’d have nothing in common with, checked in. Her opening line was, ‘I heard you were childless and wanted to check you were okay with what I do. If you’re not, please let me know.’
I felt heard. We’ve become allies and friends, and it turns out that we both felt vulnerable during our study days and had to create boundaries.
Most of all, a few people said it’s good to see a life without children, that it is possible and can be joyful sometimes. Most of all, when I think of friends who are parents and those I know who chose not to have children, I get a feeling of respect because together, we genuinely know that having children doesn’t equal worth. We’re all universal in our conclusion.
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