“Carrie!” I exclaimed, leaning forward. “Can you allow Jane to prioritize you?”
There are moments in coaching when an insight strikes you and you have no idea where it came from, just that it needs to be shared. Somehow, the coaching muse—Terpsichore, maybe? Coaching is a dance, after all—flows through you; go with her or lose a chance for growth.
Jane and I have been working together for several months. At our last session, her wife, Carrie (neither’s real name), accompanied her, and the session naturally transitioned into couples coaching.
Carrie is going through challenging health issues that leave her debilitated for days on end. Jane’s life has reached a level of chaos few of us ever have to juggle: she’s responsible for all aspects of the couple’s business, is the primary care-giver for her brother with Alzheimer’s, and the sole caregiver for her wife. In addition, they have three aging dogs and a young cat. The stress has landed her in the hospital twice in six months.
Over the last two weeks, Jane has taken serious steps to cut back, notably, dialing down on the business and getting additional help with her brother. She wants to make herself available to Carrie at all times as she struggles with metastasizing cancer and the side effects of chemotherapy.
Carrie understands all the responsibilities Jane shoulders. The last thing she wants to be is an added burden. She finds it difficult to ask for help, though Jane repeatedly assures her she’s there. Carrie also doesn’t want to accept that her body feels like it’s betraying her.
This is a recipe for conflict. Jane can’t understand why Carrie doesn’t communicate with her. As far as Jane is concerned, she’s eager to do anything Carrie needs. Her only request is that her wife tell her where she’ll be and when she wants help. When Carrie fails to do that, Jane feels disrespected and explodes. Add to this her fear of losing her wife, and emotions are really heightened.
We’d been dancing together for forty-five minutes, uncovering unspoken assumptions, unrecognized expectations, unmet needs, and faulty tactics. It was exciting to see the two spouses working together to communicate, to peel back layers, to connect around their difficulties and shared desire to support each other.
Where the gears kept grinding was around Carrie’s feeling that she was a burden. That’s when Terpsichore hit like a thunderbolt. I’m surprised I didn’t scare Carrie, the way I leaned in and exclaimed at her. But she’s made of stronger stuff.
“Can you allow Jane to prioritize you?” I asked.
“That’s it!” Jane exclaimed. “That’s exactly it.”
Carrie gasped and tears filled her eyes. Her shoulders dropped from their place around her ears.
“Can you write yourself a permission slip?” I asked her. “It might say, ‘I permit myself to let Jane prioritize me.’”
It’s a difficult concept for Carrie, that despite the demands on Jane’s time and energy, all Jane wants to do is care for her. For Jane, it’s a difficult concept that Carrie’s attempts to do things for herself aren’t a personal repudiation of Jane’s love.
They’re working on embracing both concepts.
I admire them for their presence, their continued openness to learning about themselves and each other. It’s likely that Carrie won’t see the next election. Not for a moment does that stop her or Jane from striving for a clearer understanding of themselves or each other, a closer relationship. Complacency is not a temptation for them. They make the most of this lifetime, taking every opportunity to learn and grow.
“That was hard work,” Carrie said as they walked to the door. The three of us laughed, but she wasn’t wrong.
Insight, growth, change aren’t easy. But they’re sure better than the alternative.
The dance might leave us sweaty, but the outcome is worth a little perspiration.