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Close-up portrait of determined female client showing focused expression during intense workout session

During a recent discovery call, a prospective client asked whether I could give her a formula or a series of steps we would follow during coaching.Inside, I was desperate to say yes. I could picture the beautiful roadmap, everything neatly mapped out.What I actually said was that as much as I’d love to, I didn’t yet know exactly what our work together would look like.It was an honest answer, but it didn’t offer the certainty she was looking for.I completely understood her request. She was considering investing her time, money and energy in a process. In me. Naturally, she wanted to understand what she would get in return and how we would get there.I explained that we would agree goals and review progress, but I couldn’t prescribe the precise path we would follow. She said she understood and our conversation moved on.Her question has stayed with me though. I guess because I share her desire for certainty. If I’m paying for something, I want to know what I’m buying.Executive coaching can be worth the investment when it helps you make decisions or changes that matter to you. And we can agree meaningful goals and assess progress without being able to predict every outcome beforehand.<h2>The appeal of a clear deliverable </h2>My background is in accountancy and financial translation. I’m comfortable with analysis, clear agreements and tangible deliverables.&nbsp;Translation offered a particularly straightforward arrangement. A client sent me a document, we agreed a price and deadline and I delivered the translation. Both of us understood what they were buying and could assess whether I had fulfilled my side of the agreement.Coaching is different. And the stakes can feel higher. The decisions we explore can affect someone’s livelihood, professional relationships and life beyond work.Someone might come to me wanting to decide whether to change careers, become more effective in a bigger role or handle difficult conversations differently. We can agree what they want to work towards, but how we approach it will depend on what we discover together.That is difficult to convey before the work has begun. I could understand why this prospective client wanted a roadmap: it would give her something concrete to assess. And me something easier to explain.So why don’t I produce one?<h2>Why my approach to coaching has evolved </h2>When I first started coaching, I was actually more inclined to offer a structured programme with predetermined steps. It gave me a sense of control and seemed to resonate with clients too.Looking back, when I prepared those roadmaps, I was making assumptions based on a 30-minute conversation without realising it. Experience has taught me how much can emerge once we begin working together. I’ve become more cautious about putting those early assumptions into a polished document that could give them more authority than they deserve.With many clients, I’ve also seen our work move away from the direction I had anticipated. That has been entirely appropriate because something more relevant has emerged.But if the original plan remains the measure of what we should cover, the client could reasonably feel that something is missing. Have we completed the work properly? Do they now need to pay for more sessions to cover the remaining items?I don’t want a plan I created too early to leave someone feeling that useful work is somehow unfinished.Another coach might offer a roadmap and that may suit their approach and their clients very well. My own preference has evolved towards agreeing an overall purpose, then shaping the work around the individual and what we learn together.I prepare thoroughly for sessions. And I reflect on them in detail afterwards too. During sessions, I listen, think and make choices about what to ask, when to challenge and whether an exercise or practical rehearsal might help. Often, I set aside something I had prepared because the conversation reveals a more pressing concern.Increasingly, I see my role as facilitating that exploration in real time. I bring skills, attention and judgement, without assuming I know what the right answer is for the client.That is harder to demonstrate before someone has experienced a session. Yet it is the responsiveness I believe makes the work more personal and more valuable.<h2>What can we agree at the outset?</h2>There is still plenty we can establish before beginning.We can discuss what you want to address, why it matters and what you hope will be different. We can agree practical arrangements, fees, confidentiality and how we will review progress.I can explain how I work and what I bring: focused attention, thoughtful questions, challenge, support and practical ways to explore the issue. I’m responsible for keeping our work purposeful and discussing whether it is helping.You bring your experience, judgement and willingness to engage. Your reflection, experiments and actions matter. You retain ownership of your decisions.I cannot promise a particular career decision, promotion or response from someone else. I can commit to working with you towards your goals and paying attention to what is useful along the way.<h2>How can you measure coaching outcomes?</h2>The starting point is to make the goal specific enough to discuss meaningfully.“Career clarity” may describe what you want, but what would having more clarity allow you to decide or do?“Being more effective in my new role” is a useful starting point too. What would change in your working week if our work together proved successful?For someone considering a career transition, progress might mean investigating realistic options and deciding which to pursue. For someone stepping into a bigger role, it might mean delegating more clearly and spending less time taking work back.Other evidence could include having a conversation you had been avoiding, recognising a recurring pattern sooner or testing a different response to a difficult situation.These are possible outcomes, rather than promises. What matters is agreeing what would be useful for you and looking at what is actually changing.In my coaching, we usually revisit the overall goal roughly every three sessions. We consider what has changed, what remains difficult and what would be useful next. Sometimes we redefine the goal as the client’s thinking develops. We agree the revised focus together and continue reviewing progress.I also now provide a written summary at the end of our work together. Depending on what we have explored, it might capture decisions made, values identified, different internal voices we have named or next steps the client has chosen, as well as areas left for further exploration.It gives both of us a snapshot of the work and the client something to return to at a later date. It also captures something that is difficult to show beforehand: how the conversations connect and what the person takes from them.<h2>How do you decide whether coaching is worth it?</h2>Consider the importance of the issue and what a worthwhile change would look like for you.An unresolved career decision may be taking up considerable attention. Difficulties with delegation may be affecting you and your team. You may have thought through the same options repeatedly without finding a useful way forward.Then consider what kind of support you need. Specialist advice, technical training or mentoring may be more appropriate. Coaching is not the answer to every professional difficulty.The cost matters, alongside the time and attention you can realistically give the work. So does your ability to speak openly with the coach, including saying when something isn’t helping. Responsibility for useful coaching cannot rest entirely with the client.If you’re also considering who to work with, I’ve written separately about <a data-mce-href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/how-to-choose-a-coach" href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/how-to-choose-a-coach">how to choose a coach</a>.&nbsp;I don’t yet know whether the person who asked me for a formula will decide to work with me. Her question captured a tension I take seriously: giving someone enough information to make an informed choice, while leaving room for work that responds to them as an individual.There is trust involved. I need to earn it by explaining my approach clearly, listening carefully and reviewing the work with the client. I cannot remove all the uncertainty, even if part of me would still love to produce that beautiful roadmap.<h2>Working with me </h2>I work with experienced professionals considering their next career move through Career Clarity &amp; Transitions, and those developing how they work through Stepping into a Bigger Role.My packages are six 60-minute sessions for €595 or twelve for €1,080, including IVA. We can meet online or in person in Madrid, in English, Spanish or a mix of both.If you’re considering coaching, you’re welcome to <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" target="_blank" rel="noopener">book a discovery call</a>. We can discuss what you want to work on, how I might support you and any questions you need answered before deciding.

Is Executive Coaching Worth the Investment?

You've researched different careers. Trawled through job descriptions. Explored retraining. Talked to friends. Made lists of things you're good at and things you enjoy.Perhaps you've even made a spreadsheet. Hello 🤓You've probably got a reasonable idea of what's possible. What you haven't got is a clear sense of which option, if any, is right for you.And the more you investigate, the more questions you seem to have.Would you actually enjoy doing something completely different? Could you afford to earn less, at least initially? Would all those years of experience still count for something? What if you made the move and regretted it?So you keep researching, hoping that eventually you'll feel confident enough to make a decision.But what if more thinking isn't going to give you the answer?What if some of the information you need can only come from trying something different?<h2>Why thinking harder doesn't always bring career clarity</h2>When you're used to solving problems using logic and analysis, it's natural to approach a career change in the same way.Gather the information. Compare the options. Assess the risks. Make a decision. And there's a lot to be said for that approach.If you're considering retraining, you need to understand the time and financial commitment. If you're thinking about moving into another industry, it's sensible to investigate what opportunities exist and how your experience might transfer.But there are limits to what research can tell you.You can find out what a particular job pays, what qualifications you need and what the typical career path looks like. What you can't necessarily discover is whether you'd actually enjoy doing it. Or whether the reality would match the version you've created in your head.And when you've spent 15 or 20 years building a career, there's more at stake than simply finding something interesting.You have experience people value. A professional identity. Perhaps a salary that supports your family, the mortgage, a way of life you're not prepared to give up.You don't want to throw all that away on something that might turn out to be a mistake. And you want to understand the risks. But you can't research your way to certainty about something you've never experienced.Sometimes more research just gives you more possibilities to analyse.<h2>You don't have to decide before you start exploring </h2>This is something organisational psychologist Herminia Ibarra explores in her book <a data-mce-href="https://store.hbr.org/product/working-identity-updated-edition-with-a-new-preface-unconventional-strategies-for-reinventing-your-career/10659?utm_source=chatgpt.com" href="https://store.hbr.org/product/working-identity-updated-edition-with-a-new-preface-unconventional-strategies-for-reinventing-your-career/10659?utm_source=chatgpt.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Working Identity</a>, based on her research into how people make career transitions.She challenges the conventional assumption that we need to work out exactly what we want to do before we start making changes.Instead, she found that people often develop a clearer sense of their future direction through experience - by trying different activities, meeting people outside their usual professional circles and exploring possible versions of themselves.In other words, doing can come before knowing.I find this a useful way of looking at career change, particularly for people who have already spent a great deal of time thinking about their options.Because you're not necessarily going to discover whether you'd enjoy being a teacher, a consultant or a business owner by imagining what it might be like.You need some contact with the reality. That doesn't mean handing in your notice or signing up for a two-year qualification. It means finding ways to investigate possibilities without committing to them.And perhaps this is the most useful shift: instead of asking yourself which career you should choose, ask what you still need to find out.<h2>How to explore a career change without leaving your job</h2>I think the word experiment is helpful here. An experiment isn't a commitment to a particular outcome. It's a way of testing an idea and seeing what you learn.But before deciding what to try, I'd start by getting curious about what it is you're actually hoping to find.Perhaps you're attracted to the idea of becoming self-employed. What is it that appeals to you? The freedom to manage your own time? The possibility of choosing your clients? The opportunity to build something yourself?Or perhaps it's simply the thought of not having a boss. Those are quite different things.If it's greater autonomy you're looking for, you might be able to find that in a different role or organisation. If you're excited by the idea of building a business, you could explore a small project alongside your existing work, without immediately giving up your salary.The experiment depends on what you're trying to discover.Perhaps you've started thinking about retraining in an entirely different field. Before committing thousands of euros and several years of your life, could you find a way to experience a little of what you'd actually be learning to do?That's something I did when I was exploring coaching. I attended a free Barefoot coaching taster session, without having to commit to training or make any significant changes to my existing work. It became one of the experiences that helped me decide to pursue coaching more seriously.Of course, one workshop couldn't tell me everything about being a coach. But it gave me something I couldn't have got from reading course descriptions.And that's worth remembering. You're not trying to establish whether an alternative career is definitely right for you. You're trying to learn enough to decide whether it's worth exploring further.Sometimes the most useful experiment might not involve doing anything new at all. It might involve looking more closely at something you're already doing.Perhaps you enjoy mentoring junior colleagues but find managing a team exhausting. What is it about those two experiences that feels different? Is it the individual conversations you enjoy? The opportunity to help someone develop? Or the absence of responsibility for their performance?You might discover that what appeals to you isn't an entirely different profession, but a different way of using skills you already have.And there's no need to test everything at once.If you've got a demanding job, a family and financial commitments, you may only have room to explore one possibility at a time. That's fine.&nbsp;You might decide to explore one option per month, for example. Not as another target to meet, but as a manageable way to keep moving forward, with enough space between experiments to reflect on what you've learnt.Choose something that interests you, identify what you'd like to find out and look for a manageable way to investigate it.The aim isn't to collect as many experiences as possible. It's to give yourself something new - and useful - to think about.<h2>Why a small career experiment can still feel like a big step</h2>There's something else worth acknowledging. A small experiment might involve very little financial risk and still feel surprisingly uncomfortable. Especially if you're used to being good at what you do.After years in your profession, you're probably accustomed to knowing your stuff. People ask for your opinion. They trust your judgement. You know how things work.Now imagine walking into a room where you're a complete beginner.You don't know the terminology. You might ask questions that seem obvious to everyone else. You may discover that something you thought you'd be naturally good at is actually quite difficult.That can be unsettling.And there's the question of how other people might react.What will your colleagues think if you start exploring something completely different? Will your partner worry that you're about to give up a secure career? Will people wonder why you'd want to move away from something you've spent so long building? You might not even be ready to explain your interest to yourself, let alone to anyone else.I think this is one reason career experiments can be harder than they sound. It's not always the practical commitment that feels risky. Sometimes it's allowing yourself to imagine a professional future that looks very different from the one you've spent years building. Which is also why I think it can help to keep your initial exploration relatively private.You don't have to announce that you're changing careers simply because you're curious about another possibility.You can be interested in something without yet knowing what you want to do about it.<h2>What did you learn? And what might you try next? </h2>Of course, there's not much point trying lots of different things if you never stop to consider what you've learnt.And I don't think the most useful question afterwards is necessarily, "Did I enjoy it?"You might enjoy a workshop because the people were interesting or the facilitator was excellent. That doesn't automatically mean you'd enjoy doing the work professionally.Equally, you might find something difficult or uncomfortable because you're new to it. That doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong for you.I'd be curious about a few things:<ul><li>What surprised you?</li><li>Which parts interested you, and which left you cold?</li><li>Did the experience change any assumptions you'd been making?</li><li>Has this possibility become more attractive, less attractive or simply more realistic?</li><li>What would you need to find out next?</li></ul>Sometimes the most valuable thing you learn is that something isn't for you.Perhaps you've been attracted to the idea of working for yourself, but after talking to people who've made that move, you realise how much you value having colleagues, sharing responsibility and knowing what you'll earn each month.Or perhaps you've been considering teaching, only to discover that what really interests you is explaining complicated ideas and helping people understand them. Something you might be able to do without leaving your current profession.That might feel disappointing, particularly if you'd been excited about the possibility.But it's useful information. You're getting clearer about what matters to you, rather than simply deciding whether one particular career is right or wrong.And sometimes what you discover opens up possibilities you hadn't previously considered.Perhaps you don't need to leave your profession after all. You just want to use different parts of your experience. Or perhaps something you initially considered a vague interest starts to look like a possibility worth exploring further.The point isn't to force every experience into a decision.It's to notice what you're learning and use that information to decide what might be worth investigating next.<h2>A smaller question to start with </h2>If you're unhappy with your current career but can't work out what you want instead, it's easy to feel that you need an answer before you can make any progress.After all, a career change can affect your income, your family, your identity and the way you spend a significant part of your life. Of course you want to make a thoughtful decision.But perhaps you're asking yourself a question that's too big to answer right now: What do I want to do for the rest of my career?So perhaps start with something smaller. What's one possibility I'm curious enough to explore - and what would help me find out whether it's worth pursuing?You don't have to decide where it's going to lead. You just need to be open to what you might learn.Through my <a data-mce-href="https://carmeldrake.com/work-with-me/career-clarity-transitions" href="https://carmeldrake.com/work-with-me/career-clarity-transitions">Career Clarity &amp; Transitions coaching</a>, I help experienced professionals explore their options, question assumptions and work out what makes sense for them - without assuming that changing careers is necessarily the answer.You can find out more about how I work or <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" target="_blank" rel="noopener">book a free 30-minute discovery call.</a>If you're still wondering whether it's time for a career change in the first place, I've explored that question in my previous article: <a data-mce-href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/how-do-you-know-when-it-s-time-for-a-career-change" href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/how-do-you-know-when-it-s-time-for-a-career-change" data-mce-selected="inline-boundary">How do you know when it's time for a career change?</a>

Want to Change Careers but Don't Know Where to Start?

“How much longer can I keep doing this?”You’ve caught yourself wondering that a lot lately. As you log on after supper to do your actual job after another day packed with meetings. As your team turns to you to solve another problem and you wonder how many more years you want to be the person with all the answers. As another work trip goes into your diary and you realise you used to look forward to these.Then other thoughts arrive. “I need the income.” “No job is perfect.” “I can’t think about this now.”So you crack on.&nbsp;On paper, your job ticks a LOT of boxes. Salary. Status. Flexibility. The people. There are things you’d genuinely miss if you left.But the appeal has faded. You’re good at what you do. You’re less sure you want to keep doing it.Perhaps it’s the workload. A promotion that keeps being pushed back. Or the prospect of another few years doing much the same thing.&nbsp;You find yourself asking: “Is it time for a change or is this just a tough patch?”Then you have a better week and wonder whether you were making too much of it.There isn’t one feeling or set of signs that can settle that question for you. But you can look more closely at what keeps bothering you, what’s still working and what you might want to change.These four questions can help.<h2>1. Is this a difficult patch or something more significant?</h2>We all have tough periods at work. But if you keep questioning your job, it can help to notice when those thoughts come up.Open a new note on your phone. Whenever the question returns over the next few weeks, jot down how you felt, what was happening and what you were questioning. Notice, too, whether the doubts ease once a deadline passes or return even on a good day.The point is to spot patterns that help you understand what needs attention.In my coaching practice, I work with people reconsidering their careers for all sorts of reasons. Some have reached a position they spent years working towards, only to find it isn’t what they’d hoped for. Others have lost interest in work they once enjoyed. Or their circumstances have changed, perhaps with caring responsibilities taking up more of their time and energy.Sometimes nothing dramatic has happened. The work simply fits less well than it used to and the energy or drive they once felt has faded.<h2>2. Do you need a rest, a different job or a different career? </h2>If you’re exhausted, almost any alternative can look appealing. You may need some relief before you can think clearly about a bigger change.Notice what happens when you have more energy. Does your interest in the work return? Or do you feel better in yourself while still questioning what you're spending your days doing?Rest and change can both be needed. A break isn’t a definitive test, but neither is tiredness proof that your career is wrong.To become more specific, imagine your current job disappeared tomorrow. Once the initial shock had passed, ask yourself two questions:<ul><li>What would you genuinely miss?</li><li>What would you be relieved never to have to do again? </li></ul>Include everything. The salary, colleagues, flexibility and satisfaction of being good at something all count. So do the meetings, politics, tasks and pressure you may happily put down.Look at the two lists together and reflect on what your answers suggest. If you’d miss the work but happily leave the management, workload or culture behind, a different job or changes to your current role may be worth exploring. If the work itself dominates your second list, a change of career may deserve closer attention.Your values matter here too. All work involves compromises, but there’s a difference between a job that doesn’t provide everything you want and one that regularly asks you to act against what matters to you. You might happily find creativity outside work. Being expected to behave in ways you consider unfair or unethical is a different matter.A role can be objectively good and still no longer suit you. It’s worth taking that seriously, even if other people would love to have your job.<h2>3. What’s keeping you where you are?</h2>When someone tells me why they can’t make a change, I sometimes ask: “Could that be an excuse?”It can be an uncomfortable question. It can also be useful.“I need a certain income to support my family” may be a concrete constraint. “Now's just not&nbsp;the right time” needs a little more exploration. What would make it the right time? What would have to change? If the answer keeps moving, what are you postponing?There may well be good reasons to stay. The income, flexibility and parts of the work you still enjoy all matter. Fear deserves a fair hearing too, but it helps to understand what you’re afraid of: losing income, starting over, disappointing someone or discovering that another direction doesn’t suit you either.Years of experience can also make you <a data-mce-href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/what-shape-is-your-career" href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/what-shape-is-your-career">feel pigeonholed</a>. You know what you’re qualified to do and other people keep suggesting more of it. That doesn’t settle what you want to do.And if someone else’s career appeals, I'd encourage you to ask what you actually envy. Their autonomy? Their variety? Or the fact that they were brave (or reckless) enough to make a change?Their working life may offer clues about what you want more of. It won’t show you all the compromises.<h2>4. What could you test before deciding to change career?</h2>You may have thought about this for months. Or even years. Made lists. Spoken to friends. Gone round the same arguments in your mind again and again.If you’re still going round in circles, pick one thing you could find out by talking to someone or trying it yourself.Is it the work or the setting? Speak to someone doing similar work in a different organisation. Ask them to talk you through an ordinary working day: the tasks, pressures, frustrations and decisions. Would you want their version of your job?&nbsp;Would you enjoy the work behind an appealing job title? Try a small piece of it. If writing attracts you, for example, produce something to another person’s brief, with a deadline and feedback. Do the revisions too. Afterwards, ask yourself what you enjoyed, what you found frustrating and whether you want to do more.You won’t get a complete answer from either of these. But you’ll have something more to go on than how you imagine another working life might feel. It’s easy to idealise what you haven’t tried.&nbsp;You may decide to change career. You may want a different role, fewer hours, more responsibility or <a data-mce-href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/how-well-are-your-boundaries-actually-working-for-you" href="https://carmeldrake.com/blog/how-well-are-your-boundaries-actually-working-for-you">clearer boundaries</a>. You may choose to stay.For now, try replacing “Should I change career?” with “What do I need to find out before I decide?”<h2>Coaching for professionals at a career crossroads</h2>I’m Carmel Drake, an ICF-certified Executive Coach based in Madrid, working in English and Spanish, online and in person.I help experienced professionals work out what they want to change and how to make it happen. If you’d like to explore what’s going on in your own career and whether coaching could help, <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">book a free 30-minute discovery call with me</a>.

How Do You Know When It’s Time For a Career Change?

Coach leaning in attentively during one-on-one mentoring session, creating supportive professional environment

A friend - let's call her Clare - was promoted recently. Her boss suggested that a coach might help as she stepped into the new role.She agreed. There were some tricky relationships to navigate in her team, both upwards and downwards. She wanted somewhere outside of the organisation to think through how to handle them.“I think I really need a coach,” she told me. “But how do I choose one?”It’s such a simple question. But it doesn’t have an easy answer.How do you know if someone is going to be a good coach for you before you’ve actually worked with them?There isn’t one type of coach or one way of coaching. And, as Clare and I talked about what she was looking for, it became pretty clear that there isn’t one definition of what a good coaching relationship should feel like either.She already knew something about what she wanted. She’d previously met a coach who was pretty hardcore. Blunt. Someone willing to call bullshit, question what she was saying and challenge her assumptions. She’d liked that. Someone else might hate it.Which got me thinking about how personal the answer to “What makes a good coach?” actually is. Perhaps the question isn’t simply whether someone is a good coach. It’s whether they’re the right coach for you.<h2>Start with the help you actually want </h2>Before you look for a coach, I’d start with what’s actually going on for you.Perhaps, like Clare, you’re taking on more responsibility and trying to manage some difficult relationships. You’re navigating upwards as well as downwards, or wondering how you need to work differently now that expectations of you have changed.Or perhaps it’s something completely different. You’re considering leaving your job. You want to feel more confident speaking up. You keep having the same problem with different people. You’ve got a big decision to make and have analysed it so thoroughly that you can no longer tell what you actually think.You don’t need to arrive at your first coaching session with a perfectly formed objective. Working out what’s really going on is often part of the work.But it does help to think about the kind of help you want.Sometimes what you actually want is someone who’s been there before and can tell you what worked for them. In that case, a mentor might be useful. Sometimes you need specialist expertise and a consultant is a better fit.Coaching, at least as I was trained to practise it, is different.I’m not there to take over someone’s thinking or supply the correct answer. Often there isn’t one.That doesn’t mean I sit there nodding inanely while a client goes round in exactly the same circles they were going round in before. I question assumptions, notice contradictions, offer observations and ask directly about things they seem to be avoiding.Ultimately, though, I’m not the one who has to live with the decision. They are.My job is to help them think more clearly about what they want to do.<figure id="figure-565w693etdmtvc01bp"><img id="565w693etdmtvc01bp" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/18cFSLvgFhdmsV70ycoJm06To44Dp5Dxnx3uG9p51KWl8Lti8fwz2DgwmadqjC2z.jpg" alt="Carmel Drake Executive Coach" title="Carmel Drake Executive Coach" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="1:1" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/18cFSLvgFhdmsV70ycoJm06To44Dp5Dxnx3uG9p51KWl8Lti8fwz2DgwmadqjC2z.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: center center;"></figure><h2>Look for a thinking partner, not a friend</h2>Clare was clear that she wanted someone direct. She’d experienced that style before and found it helpful.Someone else might want a gentler style. And the same person might want different things at different times.But you’re not choosing a coach because you want a new friend. You’re choosing someone you hope will become a valuable thinking partner. Of course you need to get on with them. You need to trust them. If I’m worried that you’re judging me, I'll likely give you the edited version. If I trust you, I’m much more likely to tell you what’s actually going on, including the bits I don’t particularly like admitting to myself.But getting on with someone doesn’t mean they should always make you feel comfortable.A good coaching relationship needs to feel safe. It doesn’t necessarily need to feel comfortable.Sometimes the useful bit is the uncomfortable bit. Someone questions an assumption you hadn’t realised you were making. They point out that you’ve contradicted yourself. Or they ask about the thing you’ve carefully avoided talking about for the past 20 minutes.So if you don’t immediately warm to a coach, I wouldn’t necessarily dismiss them. I’d be curious about why. Is there something about them that genuinely doesn’t feel right? Or have they made you uncomfortable because they’ve challenged you in a way you’re not used to?Equally, being blunt doesn’t automatically make someone a good coach. Neither does being willing to “call bullshit”.Challenge can sometimes become a performance in itself. Look how fearless I am. Look how willing I am to say the thing nobody else will say.That’s not the point.Challenge should help you see something you couldn’t see before.<h2>Don’t overvalue relevant experience </h2>It’s understandable to look for a coach who's done similar things to you.If you work in finance, perhaps you want someone who understands numbers. If you lead a large team, perhaps you want somebody who has done that too.And relevant experience can help. My own corporate background means there are situations clients describe that I recognise quickly. I understand the pressures, politics and expectations of working in a large organisation because I’ve been there myself.But I don’t think a coach needs to have done your exact job in your exact industry to coach you well.Sometimes not knowing can be useful. It makes you curious.The risk with very similar experience is moving too quickly from I recognise this to I know what you should do.Be cautious of anyone who seems more certain about your life after 30 minutes than you are after living it.I could tell a client what I would do. But that would tell them quite a lot about me and not necessarily very much about the right decision for them.So I’d want someone who understands enough about my world to engage intelligently with it, but who’s also curious about how I experience that world. Someone who uses their experience to understand, rather than prescribe.<h2>Pay attention to the conversation </h2>Most coaches will offer an introductory conversation before you decide whether to work together. I’d treat that as part of the decision, rather than a formality before signing up.And, if you can, I’d speak to more than one coach.Not because you need an elaborate procurement process, complete with scoring matrix. It’s just easier to notice what works for you when you have something to compare it with.There are practical things you’ll want to know. Cost, timing, format and frequency. Confidentiality too, particularly if your employer is paying. And there may be conflicts of interest that mean someone can be an excellent coach and still not be the right person to coach you.I’d look at training and credentials too. Qualifications won’t tell you whether you’re going to work well together, but I'd want to know that someone has undertaken reputable coach training and works within a professional and ethical framework.But I wouldn’t go into an introductory call armed with a list of 25 questions.Have the conversation.Then afterwards, ask yourself five:<ul><li>Does this person understand the kind of challenges I want help with?</li><li>Do I feel safe enough with them to be completely honest?</li><li>Will they challenge me in a way that helps me think differently?</li><li>Are they trying to understand me, rather than show me how much they know?</li><li>Do I want to have another conversation with them?</li></ul>That last one sounds almost too simple. But I think it matters.And it’s not the same as asking "Did I like them?".&nbsp;You might leave the conversation feeling slightly unsettled because they asked you something you hadn’t considered before. That could be a reason to carry on, rather than a reason not to.<h2>So how do you choose a coach? </h2>I don’t think there’s a formula. The coach I’d choose might not be the coach you’d choose. The person who feels far too blunt for one client might be exactly what another is looking for. Relevant experience might matter enormously to you. Or hardly at all.Perhaps the best question is this: is this someone with whom you could do your best thinking?Because that, ultimately, is what you’re choosing. Not someone with all the answers, but someone who can help you get clearer about your own.If you’re considering coaching and would like to find out how I work, I offer a free <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">30-minute discovery call</a>. We can talk about what’s going on, what you’d like support with and whether the way I coach feels like a good fit for you.And if it doesn’t, that’s important information too.

How to Choose a Coach: What to Look for Before You Decide

I just got back from a 16-day trip to the UK - my fifth annual visit with my daughters. We stayed in seven different places and saw a lot of friends and family. I don't know anyone who does a trip quite like this.Before I had children, I used to go back to the UK five or six times a year to visit friends and family, and for special occasions. Now it's become one big annual trip. It's a very different way of going "home".Anyway. All that catching up and talking has given me a lot to reflect on. And this year, for some reason, I came back thinking about boundaries.<figure id="figure-2xkw0t8k2gmrkpw7wf"><img id="2xkw0t8k2gmrkpw7wf" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/19oAZQ35h4kmGgbLr36JDpuZvVodykyW8q46YA2bfPXrbt05dVwT39tPJKkSiXz3.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: 55% 0%;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="1:1" data-caption="" data-positionx="55%" data-positiony="0%" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/19oAZQ35h4kmGgbLr36JDpuZvVodykyW8q46YA2bfPXrbt05dVwT39tPJKkSiXz3.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: 55% 0%;"></figure>Perhaps it's because they're something I struggle with myself. I often find it difficult to know when I've done enough. And I see the same thing come up again and again with my coaching clients.But spending time with so many different people in such a short space of time also made me realise quite how differently we all do this stuff.Not in a particularly scientific way. And not because I was secretly analysing all my friends ahead of drafting this blog post. I just found myself noticing.Some people seem to have very clear lines. Others prefer blur. Others still are wonderful at compartmentalising.Some people will happily close their laptop with work unfinished. Others never feel they've done enough. Some work at the breakfast table while their children play in the garden. Some work at weekends. Some just get on with it. Others agonise over it - feeling guilty if they work and guilty if they don't. Sometimes apologising for it. Sometimes doing it without anyone else even noticing.If I wanted to exaggerate, I'd say that I noticed two types of people: those who don't seem to fret at all about unfinished work, and those who let work (unfinished or otherwise) creep into every area of their lives. And there doesn't seem to be any correlation with "success". Those who seem able to switch off are just as successful as those who work for hours at the weekend before anyone else wakes up.Which has made me question my own assumption that there is a "right" way to do boundaries.I'm increasingly convinced that there isn't. What's important is whether the boundaries you draw genuinely work for you.<h2>Why is setting boundaries so hard? </h2>Of course, knowing that and actually setting boundaries are two very different things. Especially, I think, if you're a people pleaser. Or a perfectionist. Or someone with a strong sense of responsibility. Or all three.Because there is nearly always more you could do. Another email you could answer. Another decision you could make. Another person you could help. Something else you could squeeze in.For me, the same is true at home. I find being at home quite stressful sometimes because everywhere I look there is a job to do. Washing to put away. A cupboard to declutter. New shoes to buy. A car seat to sell. There is always something. If I'm waiting until everything is done before I allow myself to stop, then I never will.Work is no different. For many of us, "enough" is a very slippery concept.I see this come up in coaching all the time.Someone is overwhelmed at work. They know they need better boundaries. But often there isn't one enormous boundary violation . It's more of a slow creep. The pattern has been created through dozens of tiny moments: accepting another task without identifying what should be deprioritised, replying immediately, solving problems that perhaps should have been delegated or not telling anyone they're struggling because they don't want to let anyone down.None of those decisions seems particularly significant on its own. But repeat them often enough and they become a pattern. Eventually, that pattern becomes your normal way of working.&nbsp;<h2>The difficult bit isn't always saying no </h2>I think we often talk about boundaries as though the main problem is not knowing what to say. Sometimes it is. But often we know perfectly well what we'd like to say: I can't take that on. I don't have time this week. I need someone else (ideally another me) to do this. I'm leaving now. I don't want to.For me, at least, the harder part is often what comes afterwards.What if they think I'm difficult? What if they're disappointed? What if I look uncommitted? What if nobody else does it? And what do I do with the guilt?For people pleasers in particular, setting a boundary can feel uncomfortable because, well, sometimes it is. Someone might be disappointed. Someone might be annoyed. The work might not get done. You might close your laptop knowing there are still 87 things on your to-do list.<figure id="figure-ch8lmxq3qpmrkpz1bz"><img id="ch8lmxq3qpmrkpz1bz" src="https://rjdavx8ozyznxeyh.public.blob.vercel-storage.com/production/websites/infinite-images/c2302755-a4ff-4b83-97a2-a420479138c7-62oTfPiI0TsuC5ah92JgtW4tPVgXvE.png" alt="Close-up of angler's hands demonstrating proper feeder rod grip and technique by riverside in golden sunlight" title="Close-up of angler's hands demonstrating proper feeder rod grip and technique by riverside in golden sunlight" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="null" data-positiony="null" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://rjdavx8ozyznxeyh.public.blob.vercel-storage.com/production/websites/infinite-images/c2302755-a4ff-4b83-97a2-a420479138c7-62oTfPiI0TsuC5ah92JgtW4tPVgXvE.png" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>And I wonder whether this is where the real work is. Not finding the perfect words that allow us to set a boundary without anyone being inconvenienced, disappointed or annoyed, but becoming more able to tolerate the fact that sometimes they might be.&nbsp;It reminds me of something I've learnt from Dr Becky Kennedy's approach to parenting: a parent's job is not to keep their children happy 24/7, but to help them learn to tolerate frustration, disappointment and "no". Which means, as parents, we have to learn to tolerate their frustration and disappointment too.Maybe demanding bosses, teams and clients aren't so different.&nbsp;<h2>Small decisions add up</h2>So, if our boundaries aren't working for us, how do we change them?We tend to think about changing our lives in terms of big decisions. Quit the job. Move country. End the relationship. Start a side hustle. Go back to university.And, of course, those decisions typically do change everything. But increasingly, through my own life and my work as a coach, I'm interested in the cumulative effect of the much smaller decisions we make every day.Because most of our patterns weren't created overnight. They were built gradually, often without us really noticing. So perhaps that's how we change them too.A boundary can be as small as not replying immediately. Asking for help. Leaving something unfinished. Not automatically moving your plans when something else comes up. None of these things is particularly dramatic, but perhaps that's the point.If small decisions can gradually create a life that isn't working for us, they can also help us create one that works better.<h2>A small boundary audit </h2>As you may know, I started out my professional life as an auditor. So, here's a small boundary audit. For the next week, start to notice:&nbsp;What do I keep saying yes to? What do I keep moving or cancelling? Where am I automatically available? What do I resent? What gets the best of my time and energy? What gets whatever is left?And perhaps the biggest question of all:If I repeated this week's decisions for the next five years, where would they take me?<figure id="figure-fud2zdz3h8mrkq10s7"><img id="fud2zdz3h8mrkq10s7" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/295vzf5JsKOoypP651YLITTfUYX0spVHGR3td5uA6J8B4T5GgEgTd7eSMWkLd1We.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionX="undefined" data-positionY="undefined" data-fullWidth="false"/></figure>I'm not suggesting we all need to draw hard lines around every part of our lives. Sometimes I work when my children are around or answer messages outside my working hours. Sometimes work spills over because I want it to.The point, for me, isn't to have perfect boundaries. It's to notice whether the boundaries you have - clear, blurry or somewhere in between - are helping you live the life you actually want.And if they're not, perhaps you don't need to start with one enormous, brave decision.Perhaps you start with one small one.If you know that the way you're doing things isn't working for you and you'd like some help figuring out what needs to change, I'd love to hear from you.Book a free 30-minute discovery call and let's explore what feels off, what you want to be different and the small decisions that could start to move you in that direction.👉 <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call</a>

How Well Are Your Boundaries Actually Working for You?

One thing I've noticed in coaching conversations recently is how often people feel the need to explain the shape of their career. Not explicitly. But in the way they tell the story."It's not exactly a conventional career path.""I was only there for eight months.""I know my CV jumps around a bit.""Then I moved to Spain, which kind of threw everything off.""I don't really count those years."These comments are often woven so naturally into the story that they're easy to miss. But they can reveal a great deal about the expectations people are carrying around their career.Because underneath the explanation is usually an assumption: that their career should have unfolded differently.Straighter. Tidier. More stable.And as I listen, I often find myself wondering: What shape are they comparing their career to? The one they imagined when they graduated? The one their parents had? The one their university friends seem to be following? The one LinkedIn keeps showing them?Because most of us carry an idea of what a successful career should look like, even if we've never consciously put it into words.If I asked you to draw that image on a piece of paper, I suspect many people would sketch a line steadily rising from left to right.Study hard. Gain experience. Get promoted. Earn more money. Become more successful. Feel more fulfilled. Retire and relax. A nice, neat, predictable progression.<figure id="figure-gyky7oo4u6mq99dpro"><img id="gyky7oo4u6mq99dpro" src="https://cdn.durable.co/covers/2Aj5wLBJEd5ND2uCWojF0x4YShjRQyYxd0kQVU3xdG1Chi5YtJiSzZf0CAjPTq9P.jpg" alt="Career ladder" title="Career ladder" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="1:1" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/covers/2Aj5wLBJEd5ND2uCWojF0x4YShjRQyYxd0kQVU3xdG1Chi5YtJiSzZf0CAjPTq9P.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 1/1; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure> As Gen-Xers, it's often the kind of career our parents had. The problem is that very few careers actually look like that nowadays.<h2>The Reality of Modern Career Paths</h2>If you've come across Helen Tupper and Sarah Ellis's <a data-mce-href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6t6vYEeYl3Kmdd0AE6v3xj?si=3cf296bf5aec4cf3" href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6t6vYEeYl3Kmdd0AE6v3xj?si=3cf296bf5aec4cf3">Squiggly Careers podcast</a>, you'll already be familiar with the idea that careers are no longer ladders.For many of us, careers now involve pivots, career breaks, retraining, relocation, redundancy, self-employment and complete changes of direction.Others are building portfolio careers, combining different types of work rather than following a single professional path.And yet many of us are still judging ourselves against the ladder.A few years ago, while working with a coach, I described my own career as a deflated ball<figure id="figure-6ve6yvjny8mq9ag53i"><img id="6ve6yvjny8mq9ag53i" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/2dV2NLzGM0nVWGvuQxm2BZXHqrbZ1ustKEKfcN2zXb98tQCnvro5uZgogygONczo.jpg" alt="Deflated ball" title="Deflated ball" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/2dV2NLzGM0nVWGvuQxm2BZXHqrbZ1ustKEKfcN2zXb98tQCnvro5uZgogygONczo.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure>At the time, I was retraining as a coach after spending thirteen years building a successful translation business. Intellectually, I knew I wasn't starting from scratch. But emotionally, it felt that way.Looking back, I don't think I was really describing my career.I was describing the gap between the career I thought I should have by that point, in my early 40s, and the reality I was living.<h2>Different Career Paths Are Not a Problem to Solve</h2>The more I think about it, the more I see that careers come in all sorts of shapes.Some look like ladders.Some look like squiggles.Some resemble an irregular staircase, with long periods that seem static followed by sudden leaps forward.Some feel more like a plateau. From the outside, not much appears to be happening. But beneath the surface, experience, confidence and perspective are quietly accumulating.Some are portfolio careers, made up of different projects, roles and identities.And some, at least temporarily, feel like deflated balls. Not broken. Not finished. Just waiting to take shape.None of these shapes is inherently better than another.The difficulty arises when we're living one shape but judging ourselves against another.<h2>Why We Feel Uncomfortable About Career Changes, Gaps and Detours </h2>This is something I see frequently in coaching conversations.People often feel uncomfortable about gaps on their CV.Or short stays in roles.Or career changes that didn't work out.Or years spent abroad.Or qualifications they never used.Or periods spent raising children.Not because they regret those decisions, but because they worry about what those decisions say about them.Recently, I spoke to someone who described a series of jobs she'd left after six to nine months.None of them had been right for her.Some weren't what she'd expected.Others had cultures that didn't align with her values.Yet as she talked, I noticed a sense of discomfort.Almost as though leaving was the thing that required explanation.As though staying would somehow have been the more "successful" choice.But when I listened to her story, I noticed something different.Someone who was paying attention.Someone who was learning what mattered to her.Someone who was becoming increasingly clear about the type of work, leadership and environment she wanted around her.The facts were exactly the same. The interpretation was different.And I think that's true for many of us.The shape isn't usually the problem. The story we're attaching to the shape often is.<figure id="figure-bz8bqllufhmq99fwqy" class=""><img id="bz8bqllufhmq99fwqy" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/21TfsHJrhBod0agAALytHxRI2YjCOrcbmNVasAxKy0CKWDioy9kiBwdTkEMgzwLS.jpg" alt="Student's hands typing on laptop showing resume document in bright natural window light, focused career planning workspace" title="Student's hands typing on laptop showing resume document in bright natural window light, focused career planning workspace" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/21TfsHJrhBod0agAALytHxRI2YjCOrcbmNVasAxKy0CKWDioy9kiBwdTkEMgzwLS.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure><h2>The Career Comparison Trap</h2>Part of the reason those stories can feel so convincing is that we're rarely evaluating our careers in isolation.We're comparing them.To the classmates we went to school with.The friends we studied alongside at university.The colleagues who joined the graduate scheme at the same time.The people we occasionally look up on LinkedIn.We compare job titles.Levels of seniority.Salaries.&nbsp;And often, without realising it, we're comparing completely different lives.Different priorities. Different constraints. Different definitions of success.One person prioritised stability.Another prioritised adventure.One moved abroad.Another stepped back to raise children.One changed career entirely.Another stayed on the same path for twenty years.The shapes were never going to be the same.And yet we often use someone else's career to question the choices we've made in our own.<h2>The Difference Between the Shape and the Story</h2>The question isn't whether your career looks exactly as you imagined when you graduated.Or when you were twenty-five.Or even five years ago.The question is whether you're still judging yourself against a shape you imagined back then.A shape that may never have been realistic.Or relevant.Or even yours.Because careers aren't static.Neither are people.We grow.Our priorities change.Life happens.And sometimes the most useful thing we can do is stop measuring ourselves against a shape we didn't even realise we drew.&nbsp;<h2>A Question for Reflection </h2>If you were to draw the shape of your career today, what would it look like?How does that compare with the shape you expected it to have?And what story are you telling yourself about the difference?Perhaps the question isn't:"Why doesn't my career look the way I thought it would?"Perhaps the more useful question is:"What does the shape of my career tell me about what I've valued, prioritised and experienced along the way?"Because viewed through that lens, the shape itself often starts to make a lot more sense.<h2>Career Coaching for Professionals at a Crossroads </h2>If your reality no longer matches the expectations you once had for your career, you're not alone.Many of the people I work with are experienced professionals who look successful on paper but feel like something is off.Whether you're considering a career change, questioning a role that no longer fits, struggling with confidence at work or wondering what comes next, coaching can help you step back, see the bigger picture and move forward with greater clarity and confidence.If this has struck a chord, I'd love to hear from you.Book a free 30-minute discovery call and let's explore what's feeling off for you and what your next chapter could look like.👉 <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" data-mce-selected="inline-boundary">https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call</a>

What SHAPE is your career?

Carmel Drake

English-speaking Executive Coach in Madrid. I work 1:1 online and in person with experienced professionals who have 15+ years experience and who are at a crossroads at work. 