Women Living On The Edge

The Joyless Club

The following article written by Maureen appeared in the Boston Globe's LOLA Magazine:

Would a woman really seek out a life coach because she's hungry for more fun? I had a client who did just that, although when she first contacted me, she didn't realize that was her goal. This client, a 30-year-old whom I will call Jennifer, moved from Britain to the Boston area 10 years ago to complete her education. She holds undergraduate and graduate degrees in organizational development and considered a doctorate as the next logical step – but she couldn’t shake significant misgivings about this plan. As a life coach, I knew Jennifer's career doubts were not so unusual. We scheduled a one-hour phone appointment for the following week. 

Jennifer told me she was working at a university south of Boston and involved in a serious romantic relationship. She'd been physically fit her whole life, but a recent orthopedic surgery left her temporarily dependent on others and unable to work out, a toxic combination. This was not a happy woman, despite her laundry list of reasons why she should be blissfully content. 

During that first phone session, we looked at Jennifer's considerable accomplishments. She had great credentials and was respected in her field. Acknowledging her achievements, however, was a challenge. Women like Jennifer often have a tough time talking about their successes without feeling they are bragging. The so-called fraud factor may kick in – they may underestimate their accomplishments, or think they did not deserve that promotion or award, and believe they ultimately will be unmasked as unworthy. 

I asked Jennifer if she was willing to look at her surgery and the recovery as a gift, an occasion to reflect on where she was and where she wanted to go. After some negotiation, she agreed to live with this perspective for one week and take the opportunity to sort through boxes of personal photographs. I requested that she pull out those that were especially meaningful from her childhood through early teen years. She was free to e-mail me with any insights. A flurry of messages ensued, concluding with a somewhat cryptic communication about salsa – did she mean the dance or the food? 

During our one-hour call a week later, the energy in Jennifer's voice was quite different. What had begun as another task to complete unexpectedly reconnected her to her family and her younger self. Jennifer had selected photos of herself dancing without restraint and laughing unabashedly, and they reminded her that she once had dreamed of becoming a dancer. We talked about the ideas this stirred up, including the joy and freedom of performing and being completely engaged in a delightful activity. Where was dance in her life now? Where was joy in her life now? Her boyfriend was not interested in the arts, which he considered frivolous. Jennifer's schedule was so jammed when she was healthy that she could barely fit in a run, let alone take a dance class. 

Somewhere along the way, Jennifer had adopted a very narrow definition of fun. Our goal was to inject more of it into her life by designing a plan that would integrate the fearless and exuberant dancer with the thoughtful academic. Jennifer’s next step was to select photos of herself that were an expression of the qualities she wanted to be reminded of and to display them throughout her home. In the following weeks, she not only found herself more energetic and refocused, but frequently smiling and ready to enroll in a salsa dance class – for singles. 

We agreed to continue our phone coaching sessions weekly for three months, at which point we would reevaluate. In a short period of time, Jennifer had reconnected with her voice and begun to trust it. She eventually decided against pursuing a doctorate. Jennifer left the safety of academia and later relocated to Boston, ready to bring her skills to the private sector. And, yes, she continues to dance everyday. 

Boys Will be Boys

The following article written by Maureen appeared in the Boston Globe's LOLA Magazine:

At 29, my client Samantha (not her real name) was living a charmed life. Well, almost. She owned a small condo in the South End, worked out regularly, had plenty of friends, and prided herself on a lucrative career in corporate finance. It didn't hurt that she was tall, fit, attractive, and – oh, yes – had a Harvard MBA. She was busy every night of the week: doing yoga, teaching a finance class, steering an alumni advisory committee. People who didn't know her well assumed Samantha either had a loving husband (with all she had going for her, how could she not?) or plenty of amazing potential boyfriends beating down her door. 

Not quite. Samantha was a serial dater. She sought out my life-coaching services after the last of her close friends got married. She was the only single one left, and her mauve taffeta bridesmaid dress was little consolation. It didn't help that she'd just been dumped by her boyfriend, Ryan. He was the quasi-adult version of a teenage "bad boy" – capricious, emotionally unavailable – except that he was pushing 40. Ryan was just one in a long line of unfulfilling, immature guys. Before him there was Adam; before Adam, Greg. Each relationship started out strong and passionate; each one ended with Samantha feeling like their mother. She was a catch by any definition – yet here she was, paying for every date, doling out career advice, hoping for commitment and getting dumped instead. 

"What's wrong with me?" Samantha asked at our first meeting. "My parents don't get it. My friends don't get it. I'm smart. I’m pretty. I'm financially secure. And I know I deserve an amazing relationship – but they all end up fizzling."

We often blame ourselves for seeking out unsustainable relationships; we spend more time unearthing what's "wrong" with us or them as opposed to examining what we actually want in a partner. The flip side is that we feel comfortable in these inadequate relationships, so often, we tend to use weak partners to reaffirm our self-worth. That way, when a relationship does fail, it can be written off as the other person's fault – he was immature; she was afraid of commitment. We may think we're pushing our own limits, dating many different people, but in fact we're being risk-averse – choosing flawed partners for fear of actually entering into a meaningful, equal relationship. Samantha had been independent and successful for so long that she really didn't want to compromise that. Deep down, it was easier to play Mom to an inadequate man than risk true happiness with a whole, challenging partner. 

"Samantha," I told her, "You'd never go into a business meeting unprepared. Yet you have no clear-cut strategies for moving forward in your personal life." She had to agree. I asked her some tough questions: Whom did she want to share her life with? What qualities did he have? Why was this part of her life left up to chance, unlike her well-crafted professional map? I explained to her that, odds were, her friends had put some thought into the types of men they wanted to be with and were willing to approach relationships not only with their hearts, but also with their heads. Samantha, it seemed, tended to plunge headlong into emotional entanglements, hoping she could "rescue" a boyfriend and reaffirm her superiority in the process. 

Indeed, Samantha said that she had always been attracted to bad boys. Attractive, flashy works in progress – the boys she'd liked in high school were now grown men. Their character flaws were less overt, but the theme was the same. These guys were unreliable and flghty; she called them "projects." I put it this way: The men showed up with a big appetite but never brought the groceries. 

It was time to change, and apparently not a moment too soon. She reluctantly admitted that her biological clock was a factor: As she approached her 30th birthday, she watched more and more friends walk down the aisle, get pregnant, and settle into what she called a "socially acceptable" mold. She hated to admit it, but she wanted to be part of the club, too. 

For objectivity's sake, Samantha agreed to take a monthlong "dating vacation." She needed some space and a defined period of time in order to regroup, rethink, and prioritize. Research suggests that it takes anywhere from 21 to 30 days to break old habits and establish new ones, so with this in mind, she was ready to start again. What was she prepared to invest on a personal level? 

Over the course of the next month, Samantha agreed to set aside 15 minutes each day to record the qualities that she admired in herself, her friends and their spouses, her colleagues – even strangers who made an impact on her. In addition, I also requested that she try a new kind of "project". She was to collect pictures of anything that appealed to her, as well as words or quotes that resonated with her, and gather them in a folder to be used in the future. She would then assemble them in some form: as a poster, a bulletin board, a collage. The only stipulation was that this piece had to be displayed where she could see it regularly, in order to reinforce a strong visual presentation of her dreams. 

The break served Samantha in several ways. Most noticeable was the time she now had to devote to her own needs rather than the endless hours spent anticipating someone else's. Also, without an inferior partner to compare herself to, she was able to objectively weigh what she liked – and didn't like – about her own life. The element of competition had been erased. 

At our final session, Samantha told me that she had cautiously begun seeing a lawyer who had put his career on hold to pursue his passion as a painter. What impressed her was his confidence and direction as he set about exploring something that mattered to him. He wasn't a pushover. In fact, when she pulled out her wallet to pay for their first date, he asked her, jokingly but pointedly: "Why do you feel the need to do that?" She was disarmed. They ended up sharing the bill; with her new outlook, Samantha hopes they'll share even more in the future.

Moving in the Right Direction

The following article written by Maureen appeared in the Boston Globe's LOLA Magazine:

At 30, Stephanie (not her real name) was primed to settle down and make her professional debut. Again. A graduate of one of New York City's top high schools, she went on to get advanced degrees in business and public health. She'd held several prestigious jobs in the health-care field, and had flitted from New York to Boston to Michigan to Washington, DC, and finally back to Boston again, racking up credentials and diplomas along the way. 

By the time Stephanie contacted me, she was exhausted and bored, and the job that brought her to Boston had fizzled. She didn't have a car, didn't have a boyfriend, and didn't have a solid circle of friends. It had become increasingly clear to her that whatever she had been doing wasn't working. There was a level of discomfort that poisoned every aspect of her life. She needed a new set of rules, a new way to live. 

As a life coach, I typically work with clients over the phone, scheduling appointments on an hourly basis over a period of several months. Sensing some skepticism from Stephanie, I suggested that we exchange photographs as a way to establish a quicker connection. At her request, we also made arrangements to meet for coffee. The young woman who entered the coffee shop didn't resemble the person whose picture was in my files. Were it not for her engaging smile, I wouldn't have recognized Stephanie at all. She was a fraction of her former size. When I remarked on the difference in her appearance, she assumed that my confusion had to do with her new haircut. 

Stephanie explained that while she had always excelled academically, she had paid little attention to her appearance, overall health, and nutrition – despite her health-care career. Indeed, she seemed ill at ease, almost detached, in her own skin. She didn't think of herself as athletic, yet her frenzied lifestyle contributed to a sense of always being on the run without running. Plus, as she'd spent the majority of her 20s as a student, she rarely had the time, energy, or money to prepare nutritious meals. 

Her solution was to move to Boston. She expected that relocating (yet again) and taking a new job would provide more stability and an opportunity to catch her breath for a while. Yet there was a nagging feeling that she was about to fall into the same old habits, and in fact, she did. The Boston move wasn't a success: She had been laid off from her job, wasn't taking care of her health, and was lonely. 

However, the layoff did result in one unexpected benefit. Without a car, Stephanie had been forced to shop locally; fortunately, she lived near a large health-food store. Needing the cash, she inquired about part-time work and was hired to promote vitamins and dietary supplements, a job no doubt enhanced by her public health background. It was in this supportive environment that she had unconsciously begun to alter her eating habits, hence the significant weight loss. What was next? 

Clearly, Stephanie was in the midst of transformation on many levels when I met her. She wasn't comfortable with her new figure and had no real self-image. I suggested that she take up yoga to get in touch with her body, which she refused to do – she didn't have the confidence. However, she was willing to incorporate some activity into her routine. So I then suggested she start simple, by walking. Stephanie agreed to begin with a half-hour each day, record her progress in a log, and report back to me. I also suggested that she write a letter as her "new self", saying goodbye to her "old self" to make the transformation complete. 

At our next appointment, she noted that she had been walking for miles in her neighborhood and even ventured to different sections of Boston from time to time on the T. Her informal log book had naturally expanded to journaling, and she began to think of the future optimistically. Instead of plotting her next great move, she was working on improving herself from within.

Greater self-confidence and a work environment filled with grounded colleagues sped this process along. At a subsequent meeting, Stephanie mentioned that a co-worker who also taught yoga classes had invited her to attend, and now she was hooked – ever the achiever, she was even considering becoming a yoga teacher herself. And she'd made a new friend. 

Instead of moving yet again, Stephanie paused to turn her attentions to a completely new location: her own soul. And so, as Stephanie stabilized, our coaching began to focus on broadening her career outlook and making use of her academic background. Since the corporate settings of the past had proved somewhat dissatisfying, she decided to continue with yoga, and incorporate her business acumen into teaching and designing her own classes. She also began to pursue Reiki, another way to tune into her own body. I'm also happy to report that she now consults for a large health-care corporation; and I'm even happier to say she's now healthy herself.