Over a decade of coaching, you build up an arsenal of inspiring stories. This coaching story hits home for me. I learned a lot from Hannah. I too found it difficult to keep commitments I made to myself, often feeling indecisive. I hope her story is as inspiring to you as it was for me.
Making decisions isn't easy for everyone. Yes, I know—for some people, making accurate decisions at breakneck speed comes as easily as taking their next breath. But for most, that's not the case.
But this story is more about breaking decisions than taking them. And there's a difference there.
A couple of months ago, I coached a client who found it easy to make decisions but not so easy to follow through on them. She was in her mid-forties, a professional, and the CEO of a small design company in Germany. Let's call her Hannah.
"Lukas," she says, "when I'm working with my team and I know I'm responsible for the decisions that I need to take, it feels easier to do… but when I need to make a decision for myself, I struggle."
So I ask Hannah to tell me a little more. What kind of decisions are we talking about?
She goes on to explain that she finds it difficult to honour her commitments to herself and even to her loved ones—yet commitments to her team and those outside her inner circle are a no-brainer to follow through on.
Okay, now we're onto something, and I'm able to link decision-making with making and keeping commitments to herself. Whenever she makes a decision for herself—let's say, for example, to stick to an exercise regime—those commitments (pro-self decisions) are loosely held.
"What will happen if you don't keep a commitment you made to your team members?" I ask.
"Oh no, that would be terrible! They won't like me," she says.
"And what about when you don't keep a commitment you made to yourself or to a loved one?" I ask her.
"That's not so bad—I know they'll understand."
"Sure," I say, "they probably will. But my question included you. How does it feel to break a commitment you made to yourself?"
And then there's silence that just hangs in the air.
"I'm so used to it, Lukas. It's not like I'm that important to be too rigid with this. Making decisions for myself… or making commitments… are only tentative."
At this point, I realise she has just unearthed a massive self-limiting belief—one that is, of course, a lie rooted in fear. This realisation opens the door to understanding what's really happening beneath the surface.
In this case, the fear of rejection. Notice she said that when not meeting external expectations, her team "won't like" her. That's a deep-seated fear of rejection and an ego-driven need for acceptance and approval.
I mention this to her, and the lights go on. She realises how, over the years, she also didn't learn to accept and approve of herself. So we work on this.
Then, a question pops into my head. I venture to ask her:
"Hannah, when you make commitments to yourself—in your head, or in your diary—is it done in pen or pencil?"
Hannah chuckles and answers, "Of course in pencil, Lukas. What if I need to change things or something happens?"
Silence again as she realises what she just said.
"What if you commit to making commitments to yourself in pen… black on white?" I enquire.
"That would be so… permanent then. No way to back out. Then I'd have to do it," she answers.
In the following weeks, I'm amazed to see how Hannah's self-confidence soars as she gets into the habit of keeping commitments she makes to herself and her family. She slowly but very surely increases her trust-balance with herself.
I love how an indecisive CEO from Germany became one of those inspiring coaching stories that invite you to action and self-confidence.
She swapped her pencil for a pen.
Do you relate to Hannah's story? Please comment below with what resonated with you.
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This is the second in a series where I'll be sharing raw, real stories from my years coaching entrepreneurs and leaders.
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