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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"/></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 trying to work out what you actually want next in your career, I’m running a free, interactive webinar on 22 September: Stuck at a Career Crossroads? How to work out what you actually want next - when thinking harder isn’t helping. We’ll look at why more thinking doesn’t always lead to more clarity, how to look at your situation differently and some practical ways to start moving forward without having to make a big decision. You can <a data-mce-href="https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/stuck-at-a-career-crossroads-tickets-2000017402891?keep_tld=true" href="https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/stuck-at-a-career-crossroads-tickets-2000017402891?keep_tld=true">find out more and register here</a>.&nbsp;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?

woman in blue denim jacket holding white printer paper

Feeling stuck or disconnected despite outward success? Explore why many women in their 30s and 40s are questioning the path they followed — and redefining success on their own terms.You did what you were supposed to do.Built a career. Carried a lot. Made it work.And for years, you barely stopped to question it.And yet now, there’s often a moment — quiet, fleeting, easy to dismiss — where you find yourself thinking:Is this it?Not dramatically. Not ungratefully.Just… honestly.For many women in their thirties and forties, this doesn’t arrive as a crisis.It arrives as a low-level sense that something no longer fits.You’re functioning. Performing. Managing. But somewhere underneath all of that, something feels off.And because life looks objectively “good”, it can feel strangely difficult to admit.<h2>The map we were given</h2>For women growing up in the 80s and 90s, the message was clear:You can have it all.A successful career. A family. Financial independence. Meaningful work.And many women took that message seriously.We studied hard. Built careers. Kept proving ourselves. Adapted constantly.But there was a flaw built into the map from the beginning.The professional world many women entered was still fundamentally designed around a male model of success:<ul><li>someone whose career came first by default</li><li>someone supported by invisible labour at home</li><li>someone with fewer domestic responsibilities</li></ul>Women weren’t stepping into systems designed around the realities of their lives.They were adapting themselves to systems that already existed.And for a long time, many of us believed the solution was simply to become better at managing the pressure.More efficient. More organised. More resilient. More self-sufficient.Keep the plates spinning. Keep juggling. Keep proving yourself.Until eventually, many women reach a point where the strain of that adaptation becomes harder to ignore.Not because we’ve failed.But because constantly holding everything together comes at a cost.<figure id="figure-rcznp9pm1hmpb0qd5v"><img id="rcznp9pm1hmpb0qd5v" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/2fDwfBZmvgBnTHVKV1IFme4VCk9OoPH0TtX1w8XzeGYBsSQe4So2a9nz7lvbVkdo.jpg" alt="Woman managing juggle alone" title="Woman managing juggle alone" 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/2fDwfBZmvgBnTHVKV1IFme4VCk9OoPH0TtX1w8XzeGYBsSQe4So2a9nz7lvbVkdo.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure><h2>The problem isn’t you</h2>Many women assume that if they feel disconnected or exhausted despite outward success, the issue must somehow be them.&nbsp;Maybe they’re expecting too much. Maybe they should just be grateful. Maybe this is simply what adult life feels like.Because objectively, life looks good on paper.Solid career. Full life.&nbsp; Nothing is obviously falling apart.And yet, underneath all of that, there’s often a quiet sense of: I thought this would feel different somehow. But often, the issue is not personal failure.It’s that the version of success we were sold was built on assumptions that don’t fully reflect the reality of women’s lives.The expectation was never simply: “have a career.”It became:<ul><li>succeed professionally</li><li>remain emotionally available</li><li>manage family life</li><li>carry invisible labour</li><li>stay attractive</li><li>stay likeable</li><li>be grateful</li><li>cope without complaining</li></ul>And ideally, make it all look effortless.No wonder so many women feel exhausted.Or quietly resentful.Or emotionally flat despite lives that look objectively successful from the outside.I see this particularly with women who are outwardly incredibly capable. The ones everyone else relies on. The ones who look like they’re coping beautifully.And often, they’re the very people who have become most disconnected from themselves. Because when you spend years responding to everyone else’s needs and expectations, it becomes surprisingly easy to lose sight of your own.<h2>A pattern I see in coaching</h2>A client I’m working with at the moment is in her forties. Bright, capable, successful.She’s followed the path carefully over the years. Built a strong career. Managed competing priorities. Kept functioning at a high level.And yet recently, she found herself asking a different kind of question.Not: What’s next?But: Is this actually the right direction anymore?Nothing had gone terribly wrong.But the map she’d been following no longer reflected what she wanted now.And this is often the point where things begin to shift — not because someone suddenly blows up their life, but because they finally allow themselves to question it honestly.<h2>Why this often surfaces in your 40s </h2>By this stage of life, many women have spent years prioritising:<ul><li>responsibility</li><li>performance</li><li>stability</li><li>other people’s needs</li><li>external expectations </li></ul>There’s often very little space left for asking: What do I actually want now?And for many high-functioning women, overthinking becomes part of the coping mechanism.You analyse. Optimise. Push through. Stay productive.But eventually, the disconnect becomes harder to ignore.Because externally, you may be more successful than ever.But internally, you may feel further away from yourself.<h2>The pressure of “having it all” </h2>“Having it all” sounds empowering.But in reality, it often becomes a pressure trap.For many women, “having it all” quietly becomes:<ul><li>carrying the mental load</li><li>over-functioning at work and at home</li><li>managing everyone else’s emotional needs</li><li>suppressing uncertainty</li><li>abandoning themselves in the process</li></ul>Which can create a version of success that looks impressive externally but feels deeply misaligned internally.Not dramatically wrong.Just quietly exhausting.<h2>Redefining success on your own terms </h2>The alternative isn’t necessarily to blow up your life or make some huge dramatic change.It’s to pause long enough to question the assumptions underneath it.To recognise that the map you inherited was never neutral.And to ask yourself:<ul><li>What matters to me now?</li><li>What no longer fits, even if it used to?</li><li>What am I optimising for at this stage of life?</li><li>Which parts of myself have I neglected while trying to hold everything together? </li></ul>These are not always comfortable questions.But they are important ones.<figure id="figure-tm6txq68s3mpb2hcvc"><img id="tm6txq68s3mpb2hcvc" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1646617747567-0ced45137e0b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwzNXx8d29tYW4lMjBwZW5jaWwlMjBibGFuayUyMHBhZ2V8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc5MTAwNTUxfDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="a person writing on a piece of paper" title="a person writing on a piece of paper" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg selected" 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" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1646617747567-0ced45137e0b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwzNXx8d29tYW4lMjBwZW5jaWwlMjBibGFuayUyMHBhZ2V8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc5MTAwNTUxfDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-mce-selected="1"></figure><h2>You do not need the whole plan before you move </h2>One of the biggest misconceptions around career change or life transition is the belief that clarity arrives first.Usually, it doesn’t.Most meaningful change begins much more quietly than that.It starts with:<ul><li>noticing what feels off</li><li>allowing yourself to acknowledge it honestly</li><li>becoming curious instead of immediately shutting it down</li><li>taking one small step before you feel fully ready </li></ul>Clarity often comes through movement.Not before you begin.&nbsp;<h2>Closing thought </h2>If something feels off, it’s worth paying attention to.Not because you need to overhaul your entire life overnight.But because that feeling is often information.A signal that the version of success you were taught to pursue may no longer fully fit the person you are now.And that isn’t failure.It’s awareness.And sometimes, awareness is the beginning of a different kind of success entirely.<h2>A gentle invitation</h2>If you’re in that place — where life looks good on paper but something still feels unsettled underneath — you don’t have to figure it out alone.I offer a free 30-minute consultation: a calm, thoughtful space to explore where you are, what’s changed and what might come next.<a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">You can book a free discovery call here</a>

You Followed the Plan — So Why Does Your Career Still Feel Off?

person writing on brown wooden table near white ceramic mug

You already know.Not in a fully formed, perfectly articulated way. But enough.Enough to know something isn’t quite right. Enough to know there must be something else. Enough to keep coming back to the same question — often at 4am, when your mind just won't switch off. On paper, things are fine. Good, even. You’re capable. You’re trusted. You’ve built something solid over time.And yet, there’s a sense you’ve outgrown it. Or moved away from something that once mattered more.So you think it through. Properly. From every angle. You weigh it up, consider the risks, play it out in your head.But you don’t act.You pause. You hold back. You stay where you are.Not because you don’t know.But because something is keeping you there.Something that makes it feel like you need a bit more certainty. A bit more clarity. Or someone else to say it makes sense. To tell you it’s okay to leave the role. To switch off at the end of the day — without feeling guilty. To back yourself in a conversation where you’d usually stay quiet. To signal that now is the right time to retrain, pivot, or start something new.As if the final step isn’t yours to take — but something that needs to be confirmed, agreed or validated first.That “something” is often less about the decision itself — and more about what you feel you need in order to act on it.<h2>Why we feel stuck (even when we know what we want) </h2>We don’t usually think of ourselves as people who need permission.We’re capable. Independent. Used to making decisions.And yet, in moments like this — career change, speaking up at work, making a move that doesn’t neatly fit — something shifts.We hesitate.Not because we lack options. But because we’ve internalised a set of expectations about what a “good” decision looks like.A career path that progresses in a straight line. A role that builds logically on the last. A relationship or a partner that displays certain key characteristics.Most of this isn’t enforced outright. It’s absorbed - from family, school, the workplace and what we see others doing.In a conversation with <a data-mce-href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/42-are-your-relationships-alive-with-esther-perel/id1564530722?i=1000541193523" href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/42-are-your-relationships-alive-with-esther-perel/id1564530722?i=1000541193523">Esther Perel on We Can Do Hard Things</a>, she talks about the invisible rules we inherit about relationships — rules we rarely question, but often organise our lives around.For example:<ul><li>that a “good” relationship should meet most of our needs</li><li>that stability should be protected, even at the expense of growth</li><li>that if nothing is obviously wrong, there’s no valid reason to want something different</li></ul>The same applies to work.So when something in us starts to shift — when you begin to feel stuck in your career or start considering a change — it doesn’t just feel like a preference.It feels like a risk.<figure id="figure-wb97ao56ydmo79fwba"><img id="wb97ao56ydmo79fwba" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1772419143941-85207398389c?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw1MHx8d29tYW4lMjBoYW5kJTIwdXAlMjBxdWVzdGlvbiUyMGluJTIwZ3JvdXB8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkzNDQ5fDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="Asking for permission" title="Asking for permission" 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" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1772419143941-85207398389c?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw1MHx8d29tYW4lMjBoYW5kJTIwdXAlMjBxdWVzdGlvbiUyMGluJTIwZ3JvdXB8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkzNDQ5fDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h2>The quiet cost of staying where you are </h2>Staying where you are often looks sensible.You’re being thoughtful. Responsible. Measured.But underneath, something else is happening.You delay conversations you know you need to have. You stay in roles you’ve outgrown. You keep options open instead of committing to a clear next step. You soften what you actually want.Nothing dramatic. But over time, the gap widens — between what you know and how you’re living.And that gap has a cost.Energy. Confidence. Momentum.Not because you’re incapable. But because you’re holding yourself in a kind of limbo — often for longer than necessary.You see this particularly clearly with parents.When it comes to their child, there’s very little hesitation. They ask questions. Push for answers. Seek second opinions.They don’t wait for permission to advocate. They assume it.But when it comes to their own lives — their career, their direction, their next step — that clarity often disappears.The same person who is decisive and persistent on behalf of someone else can become cautious, uncertain, and deferential on their own behalf.I’ve seen this play out in different ways recently.<h2>Changing direction — and learning to value it</h2>One client I’ve worked with this year is nine years into her career. On paper, she feels “off track”.<figure id="figure-dlkvk0cjw7mo793pp3"><img id="dlkvk0cjw7mo793pp3" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1436919831943-52437d8d9bfd?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwyOHx8d29tYW4lMjBoaWtpbmclMjBsb3N0fGVufDB8fHx8MTc3NjY5Mjk3Mnww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="off track career wise" title="off track career wise" 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" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1436919831943-52437d8d9bfd?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwyOHx8d29tYW4lMjBoaWtpbmclMjBsb3N0fGVufDB8fHx8MTc3NjY5Mjk3Mnww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>She moved from the US to Spain. She stepped away from her original career path. She’s spent the last few years teaching English — work she doesn’t always feel confident positioning when thinking about her next move.She now wants to retrain and move into data science.And underneath, there’s a quiet narrative about her teaching role:This doesn’t really count. I’ve deviated from my career path. I need to get back on track.But when we look more closely, something else is true.In those years of teaching, she has been practising and developing:<ul><li>pattern recognition</li><li>creativity</li><li>versatility</li><li>patience</li><li>the ability to recognise and adapt to nuance</li><li>operating with a strong sense of ethics</li><li>experimentation — trying different approaches and learning what works </li></ul>All highly relevant to where she wants to go.She is doing meaningful work. Building relationships. Helping children grow in confidence.She is proud — quietly — of the progress she sees in them.The issue isn’t the experience. It’s the way she’s learned to value it.What she’s really looking for isn’t a better plan.It’s permission:<ul><li>to count this as real experience</li><li>to recognise what she’s actually been building</li><li>to tell the story in a way that supports her next step</li></ul><h2>Speaking up — more fluid, less structured</h2>In a different conversation, another client brought something that, on the surface, looked unrelated.She’s highly capable. Well regarded. Doing good work.And yet, when it comes to speaking up — particularly in moments that matter — she holds back.Not because she doesn’t have a point of view.But because saying it might create tension. Invite disagreement. Change how she’s perceived.So she defaults to being agreeable. Easy to work with. Likable.And underneath that, the same question:Is it okay to say this? Is it okay to push back? Is it okay if not everyone likes me?A few sessions in, the shift is subtle — but important.She’s starting to notice the moment before she people-pleases. The point where she softens something unnecessarily. The instinct to hold back.And occasionally, she chooses differently. Or she pauses.Which is enough.Because the habit isn’t just behavioural — it’s tied up in how she sees herself.And changing it starts with permission:<ul><li>to take up space</li><li>to be direct</li><li>to prioritise respect over approval&nbsp;</li></ul><h2>Permission isn’t coming</h2>Different situations. Same underlying question:Am I allowed to do this?The uncomfortable answer is: no one is coming to give you permission.Not your boss. Not your partner. Not your parents.And not even certainty.<figure id="figure-7tmt6gxnggmo78ywu3"><img id="7tmt6gxnggmo78ywu3" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1652722466634-3445a90c868b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwxNHx8dHJhZmZpYyUyMGxpZ2h0JTIwYW1iZXJ8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkyNzYzfDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="getting comfortable with uncertainty" title="getting comfortable with uncertainty" 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" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1652722466634-3445a90c868b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwxNHx8dHJhZmZpYyUyMGxpZ2h0JTIwYW1iZXJ8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkyNzYzfDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>The people you’re waiting for are often operating within their own expectations, constraints and fears. Even if they support you, they can’t make your decisions for you.This is where the shift happens.Not when you feel fully confident. Not when you have a perfect plan.But when you recognise that:You’re already allowed to want what you want.&nbsp;Even if it doesn’t make sense to others. Even if it takes longer than you expected. Even if your career path doesn’t look linear.<h2>Closing thought </h2>If you’re feeling stuck in your career, or considering a change, you can keep waiting.Waiting to feel more certain. Waiting for it to make more sense. Waiting for someone to say, yes, that’s the right move.Or you can recognise that the decision is already yours.Not because it’s easy.But because it was always yours to make.If this resonates — if you’re sitting with a decision you’ve already made internally but haven’t quite acted on — it might help to talk it through.I offer a free 30-minute consultation. No pressure to commit. Just a space to think clearly about what you want and what might be getting in the way.Book a time here: https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;

Feeling Stuck in Your Career Even Though You Already Know What You Want?

people sitting on chair near glass window during daytime

You’re in a meeting. You have something to say — and then the moment passes.&nbsp;You leave thinking: I should have said that.It’s a familiar experience for many of the professionals I work with — thoughtful, capable people who have a lot to contribute, but don’t always say as much as they’d like to in the moment.And it’s often misunderstood.Because this isn’t just about confidence.<h2>1.⁠ ⁠Why it's hard to speak up in meetings</h2>When people tell me they struggle to speak up in meetings, they often assume it’s a confidence issue.But when we look more closely, there’s almost always something else going on.There’s overthinking. You want to contribute something useful, well-structured, something that adds value. So you edit your point internally before you say it. There can also be a quiet fear: What if this comes out wrong? What if I sound unclear, or even stupid?Then there’s the question of timing.You don’t want to interrupt. And if you’re working across cultures, this can become even more confusing. In Spain, overlap is normal — even expected. In the UK, talking over someone can feel rude. So you hesitate. You wait for a natural pause that never quite comes.And the context matters too.In person, it’s often easier to read the room — body language, eye contact, a slight pause in someone’s sentence. You can see when it’s your moment to come in.Online, those cues are much harder to pick up. There’s often a delay. People talk over each other accidentally. Or no one speaks at all — and the silence stretches.&nbsp;So you hesitate.And more often than not, the moment passes.For many international professionals, there’s also the added layer of working in a second language. You’re processing, translating, choosing your words carefully — all while the conversation moves quickly around you.By the time you’ve found the right phrasing, the conversation has moved on.<figure id="figure-kztqvfhyggmmulk4cm"><img id="kztqvfhyggmmulk4cm" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1588196749597-9ff075ee6b5b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw5NXx8YnVzaW5lc3MlMjBtZWV0aW5nfGVufDB8fHx8MTc3Mzc1MTQzMHww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="macbook pro displaying group of people" title="macbook pro displaying group of people" 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://images.unsplash.com/photo-1588196749597-9ff075ee6b5b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw5NXx8YnVzaW5lc3MlMjBtZWV0aW5nfGVufDB8fHx8MTc3Mzc1MTQzMHww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure><h2>2.⁠ ⁠What most people get wrong</h2>The usual advice is unhelpfully simple:“Just speak up more.” “Be more confident.”But that misses the point.Most of the people I work with are already confident in their thinking. They’re good at their jobs. They’re respected. They’re not lacking ideas.What they’re missing is not confidence — it’s a way into the conversation.Because meetings aren’t structured environments where everyone is neatly invited to speak. They’re dynamic, fast-moving, often messy.If you’re waiting for the perfect moment, you’ll almost always be waiting too long.<h2>3.⁠ ⁠The shift: from waiting to entering</h2>One of the most useful shifts you can make is this:Stop waiting to be invited. Start learning how to enter.That doesn’t mean interrupting aggressively or dominating the conversation.It means recognising that in most professional settings, overlap is normal.&nbsp;In plain English, that means it's ok to come in before everything is perfectly formed.&nbsp;The people who contribute regularly aren’t necessarily the most confident or the most intelligent. They’re simply more comfortable entering the flow of the conversation before their point is fully formed.They don’t wait for perfect.They contribute early, and refine as they go.<figure id="figure-22m8s0dcbnmmumdqv2"><img id="22m8s0dcbnmmumdqv2" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1571624436279-b272aff752b5?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwxN3x8Ym9hcmQlMjBtZWV0aW5nfGVufDB8fHx8MTc3Mzc1MTAyNnww&ixlib=rb-4.1.0&q=80&w=1080" alt="brown wooden 9-piece office table and chairs" title="brown wooden 9-piece office table and chairs" 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"/></figure><h2>4.⁠ ⁠How to speak up without feeling like you’re interrupting</h2>There are small, practical ways to do this that don’t require you to change your personality.For example:<ul><li>“Can I add something to that?”</li><li>"I’d like to build on what you just said…” </li><li>“One thought from me…”</li></ul>Simple phrases like these give you a natural entry point.They also signal clearly that you’d like to contribute, which makes it easier for others to make space.A few other shifts that help:<ul><li>Enter earlier — before your idea is fully polished</li><li>Keep it shorter — you can always add more later</li><li>Accept a bit of overlap — it’s part of how conversations work</li></ul>You’re not interrupting in the sense of being rude.You’re participating.<h2>5.⁠ ⁠Why this matters more than you think</h2> Not speaking up in meetings has a cost — even if your work is strong.Because visibility doesn’t come from what you know. It comes from what others hear.When you contribute, people understand how you think. They see your perspective. They start to associate you with ideas, not just output.Over time, that shapes:<ul><li>how you’re perceived</li><li>the opportunities you’re given</li><li>the conversations you’re included in</li></ul>This is especially true if you’re working in an international environment or in English as a second language, where it’s easy to underestimate how much your voice matters.<h2>6.⁠ ⁠A short reflection</h2>If this resonates, it might be worth asking yourself:<ul><li>When was the last time I had something to say in a meeting and didn’t?</li><li>What stopped me — timing, language, or overthinking?</li><li>What would it look like to contribute a little earlier next time?</li></ul>Not perfectly. Just earlier.<h2>7.⁠ ⁠A gentle invitation</h2>If speaking up in meetings is something you’re working on, you don’t have to figure it out alone.Inside my Speak Up, Stand Out program, we focus on exactly this — helping you find a way of communicating that feels authentic, clear and effective in professional settings.Not by forcing confidence. But by building the habits and structures that make it easier to contribute.If you’re curious to explore it, you can book a free 30-minute call here: 👉 <a href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call</a>Because often, it’s not that you don’t have anything to say.It’s that you haven’t found your way into the conversation — yet.

How to Speak Up in Meetings (Without Feeling Like You're Interrupting)

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. 

Carmel Drake | Executive Coach in Madrid

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