The Imperfect Guide: Embracing Humanity in Coaching

Let me let you in on a little secret: I still struggle with setting boundaries. Yes, me—the coach who helps others create healthy boundaries in their lives. The irony isn't lost on me. I've spent years studying this stuff, teaching workshops on it, writing about it, and yet there I was last week, saying "yes" to a project I didn't have time for because I didn't want to disappoint someone.Insert facepalm here.After more than a decade in the self-development world, I've come to a liberating realization: being a guide doesn't mean you've conquered every mountain. It means you've climbed enough to know the treacherous paths, the false summits, and the equipment you'll need—even if you're still working on some climbs yourself.

The Dirty Little Secret of the Self-Development World

Here's what they don't tell you in coaching school: no matter how many certifications you hang on your wall or how many clients sing your praises, you're still going to be wonderfully, frustratingly human.I remember sitting in a conference where a guru-type was speaking about emotional regulation. He seemed so serene, so evolved—until someone asked a challenging question and I watched his jaw tighten, his voice raise just slightly. In that moment, I saw it: he was working on his stuff too. And something about that made me trust him more, not less.The truth? Every coach I know (the honest ones, anyway) has areas where we're simultaneously the expert and the student. We're teaching what we most need to learn. We're guiding others through territories we still get lost in sometimes. And that's not just okay—it's actually the point.

My Personal Highlight Reel of Hypocrisy

Allow me to share some of my greatest hits:

The week I coached someone on establishing a consistent meditation practice while I hadn't meditated in 10 days myself
That moment I coached someone through their perfectionism while secretly rewriting my own newsletter for the seventh time
When I wrote an article about the importance of saying "no" right after agreeing to three projects I didn't have time for
The day I helped a client create a sustainable self-care routine while I was running on four hours of sleep and my third coffee
When I emphasized the importance of celebrating small wins to a client while completely overlooking my own recent accomplishments
That week I helped a client develop systems for reducing overwhelm while my own to-do list had spiraled into three pages of scattered tasks

These moments used to fill me with shame. The dreaded "impostor syndrome" would kick in: "Who am I to guide anyone when I'm still figuring this out myself?"But here's what I've learned: these moments don't make me a fraud. They make me a human being who's doing the work alongside my clients, just a few steps ahead on some paths, walking in parallel on others.

Why We All Have Blind Spots (Even With 20/20 Vision)

So why does this happen to even the most dedicated among us? Several reasons:

We can't see our own faces without a mirror: It's ridiculously easy to spot patterns in others that we're blind to in ourselves. I once spent six months helping a client recognize her people-pleasing tendencies while completely missing my own—until a friend kindly held up the mirror.
Knowing vs. Embodying: There's a Grand Canyon-sized gap between intellectual understanding and emotional integration. I know all about stress responses. Does that stop me from occasionally stress-eating an entire bag of chips before a big presentation? Nope.
Old patterns die hard: Many of our coping mechanisms were created by clever little child-versions of ourselves trying to stay safe. These patterns protected us once. My perfectionism helped me succeed academically, which made it particularly tricky to unravel in adulthood.
Different contexts, different triggers: I might navigate client conflicts with calm diplomacy but completely lose my composure when dealing with customer service representatives. Context matters, and we all have environments that trigger our less-evolved selves.

The Exhausting Charade of Perfection

Early in my career, I tried maintaining the "perfect coach" façade. I was afraid clients would run screaming if they knew I sometimes struggled with the very issues I helped them address.Let me tell you—it was exhausting.I carefully curated my social media to show only polished moments. I deflected personal questions in workshops. I worried constantly about being "found out." The irony? This perfectionism drained the very energy I needed to actually grow and improve.Worse, I realized I was contributing to a toxic culture. By pretending I had it all figured out, I was setting an impossible standard for others. I was perpetuating the very myths that had made my own journey harder.One day, after a particularly impressive bout of perfectionism (I'd rewritten an email seventeen times), I had to laugh at myself. Who was I trying to fool? And what was I so afraid of?

When I Started "Coming Clean"

My turning point came during a workshop on resilience. I had planned a polished presentation, but that morning I'd received some difficult news and was feeling anything but resilient.Instead of pushing through with my script, I took a deep breath and opened with: "I want to be honest—I'm having a tough day and practicing these resilience tools in real-time right along with you."The response floored me. The energy in the room transformed. People leaned in. They asked more vulnerable questions. They shared more authentically. One participant later told me it was the most valuable workshop she'd attended because she saw the principles being applied, not just discussed. That day taught me that strategic vulnerability isn't just acceptable—it's often the most powerful teaching tool we have.

How I Help Myself (When I'm Not Helping Everyone Else)

Over the years, I've developed some practices to navigate the "coach heal thyself" challenge:

My quarterly "practice what I preach" audit: Every three months, I review my notes and identify the top three recommendations I've made. Then I honestly assess: am I following this advice? If not, why? This reality check keeps me honest.
The "if I were my own client" exercise: When facing challenges, I literally write out what advice I'd give a client with my exact situation. Then I take my own brilliant advice (revolutionary, I know).
My embarrassing voice memos: I record myself talking through challenges as if explaining them to a client. Hearing my own coaching voice addressing my issues is both humbling and hilariously effective.
The "one tool per week" practice: Each week, I choose one coaching tool from my arsenal and commit to applying it daily to whatever I'm working through. This refreshes my experience of tools I teach regularly.
My media consumption reality check: I regularly review what I'm reading, watching, and listening to. Does it align with what I promote to clients? If I'm binge-watching apocalyptic shows while teaching positive psychology, something's out of alignment.
The comfort zone calendar: I maintain a calendar where I schedule regular steps outside my comfort zone. If I'm not occasionally uncomfortable, I'm probably not growing.
The "I don't know" practice: I've trained myself to become comfortable saying these three powerful words when they're true. The liberation is immediate, and the modeling is invaluable.

Finding My Growth Buddies

The self-development journey is too difficult to walk alone. I've created several structures for mutual support:

My "truth-telling trio": Two colleagues and I meet monthly with explicit permission to call each other out lovingly. These are the people who text me: "Didn't you just write an entire article about this exact tool you're not using right now?" (Bless them.)
Reciprocal coaching sessions: I trade coaching sessions with colleagues regularly. Being on the receiving end keeps me humble and reminds me how vulnerable it feels to be the client.
Cross-discipline learning partners: Some of my most valuable growth comes from professionals in adjacent fields—the therapist who challenges my coaching frameworks, the meditation teacher who questions my pace.
My "growth collective": Six of us in helping professions meet quarterly to present our personal challenges using the same frameworks we use professionally. The insights are incredible, and the accountability is potent.
Mentorship in both directions: I maintain relationships with both mentors and mentees. Teaching keeps me current; being taught keeps me growing.

One of my coaching friends and I have a standing coffee date we call "Hypocrite Hour," where we confess the gaps between what we teach and what we're practicing. It's equal parts hilarious and helpful—and I always leave more committed to my growth.

Learning to Love My Mistakes (Well, Maybe "Appreciate" is More Accurate)

Oh, the mistakes I've made! From misreading a client's needs to pushing my agenda when I should have listened, I've had plenty of opportunities to practice humility.I've learned to:

Use mistakes as research data: Each misstep reveals something about my current growth edges. The time I got defensive with a client showed me where I still had healing to do around criticism.
Practice repair as a skill: How I address mistakes often teaches more than perfect performance would have. When I acknowledged misunderstanding a client's situation and adjusted my approach, they later said that moment significantly deepened their trust.
Keep a "lessons learned" journal: I document professional mistakes, what I learned, and how I'll approach similar situations differently. Reviewing this periodically shows my growth trajectory.
Share processed mistakes as teaching tools: Some of my most effective teaching stories come from mistakes I've fully processed. They're more relatable and instructive than any theoretical example.

I once completely misread a client's readiness for change and pushed much too hard toward an action they weren't ready to take. The experience was humbling, but it fundamentally transformed how I gauge readiness and respect each person's unique timeline. That mistake made me a better coach for every client since.

The Shame Game (And How I Quit Playing)

The guilt and shame that arise when we notice gaps between our teaching and our practice can be paralyzing. I know the cycle well:

Notice I'm not practicing what I preach
Feel like a total fraud
Compensate by trying to appear more perfect
Become exhausted by the façade
Disconnect from authentic growth
Create an even wider gap between teaching and practice
Repeat until burnout

Breaking this cycle required:

Normalizing the gap: Accepting that some distance between teaching and practice is universal
Self-compassion practices: Treating myself with the same kindness I offer clients
Community confession: Sharing these struggles with trusted colleagues
Regular recommitment: Returning to my own growth work without self-judgment

A breakthrough moment came when a mentor told me: "The gap between your teaching and your practice isn't evidence of failure—it's the space where your growth happens." That reframing changed everything.

Finding the Sweet Spot of Authentic Professionalism

There's a delicate balance between vulnerability and professionalism. I've learned that:Helpful vulnerability:

Is offered when it serves others' growth
Has been processed enough that I have perspective
Doesn't burden others with my unresolved emotions
Includes lessons learned and tools applied

Unhelpful oversharing:

Centers my experience at others' expense
Involves raw, unprocessed material
Subtly seeks reassurance or support
Lacks meaningful insights for others

I've found my sweet spot through trial and error. In a workshop on resilience, sharing my grief process after losing a parent—including specific tools that helped—created profound connection. In contrast, processing recent relationship challenges in a client session would be inappropriate and unhelpful.

Why I'm Done With the Perfection Pretense

Here's what I've ultimately concluded: pretending to have it all figured out doesn't make me a better coach—it makes me a less effective, less authentic, and less connected one.The clients who benefit most from working with me aren't getting a perfectly polished robot who never struggles. They're getting a fellow human who:

Has walked many difficult paths and found ways through
Continues to do her own work alongside them
Can empathize deeply because she knows these challenges firsthand
Values authenticity over appearance
Models self-compassion in the face of imperfection

In embracing and appropriately sharing my ongoing growth journey, I offer perhaps the greatest gift to those I serve: permission to be imperfectly human while continuing to grow.The most effective coaches and therapists aren't those who have transcended humanity's challenges but those who navigate them with awareness, compassion, and the wisdom to know they'll never completely "arrive"—and that's not just okay, it's exactly as it should be.So here's my pledge: I won't pretend to be perfect. I won't hide my humanity. I'll keep doing my work, using my tools, and showing up authentically—blind spots, growth edges, and all.After all, we're all just humans helping humans. And frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way.