Letting Go and Learning to Listen

In my last post, I wrote about slaying the Shame Monster, which is that voice in our heads and hearts that tells us we are not good enough. I was recently re-reading Michael Bungay Stanier’s The Coaching Habit and was reminded of his take on a different gremlin, the Advice Monster:

“When you take the premium that your organization places on answers and certainty, then blend in the increased sense of overwhelm and uncertainty and anxiety that many of us feel as our jobs and lives become more complex, and then realize our brains are wired to have strong preference for clarity and certainty, it’s no wonder we like to give advice. Even if it’s the wrong advice–and it often is–giving it feels more comfortable than the ambiguity of asking a question.”

The Advice Monster pops up in a coach’s head whenever we are eager to cut a client off and give our advice and direction, rather than asking questions to better understand a problem and ideally lead our client to articulate a solution. Or, at least, wait for our client to invite us to give advice and direction. If a client invites me to put on a consulting or advising hat, I’m more than happy to wear it. And that’s partly because I think I have good experience that I can translate into good advice, but it also reflects the reality that Stanier raises above as well as my own brain’s habits.

Understanding how to show up as a coach and not a consultant was a struggle for me at the start of my coach training program. For much of my 24-year career, I was in charge of projects, programs, people, and organizations. And especially as a consultant–a role I’ve done on and off over the years, and full-time starting in May 2021–my job was to give advice and help get things done.

Until the coaching class and working as a trained coach, the roles I had were very much about directing and doing, rather than listening and questioning.

​​Even simply being in the coach training class was a shift for me. I was not in charge or responsible. I was there to learn. After a few uncomfortable hours adjusting to this new environment and role, I was surprised by how fun it was, and how good it felt to be in a learning—rather than a leading, instructing, or directing—mode.

I had one clear takeaway after the second class. My work as a consultant—and really as a leader of nonprofit organizations for many years—has programmed my brain to always be ready to answer a question or give a direction. The theory being that this shows smarts and drive (which, I must say, is something that many of us who are former closted gay boys feel compelled to do; I’m going to write about this tendency next, I think). But in coaching, being quiet and holding back are signs of strength and skill.

For me, coaching pushes against my advising and doing and directing habits. It has developed the muscles that allow me to practice intentional quiet, which is helpful not just when coaching but also when consulting or in personal relationships too. Sometimes the best way to show up for someone is through silence. In my experience it’s when we can be our most empathetic.

To overcome my impulse to instruct, direct, advise, and do, I wrote down some words someone in one of the coaching classes said that they use to help them control their impulse to advise rather than coach:

1. Does this need to be said?

2. Does this need to be said by me?

3. Does this need to be said by me now?

After that class, I did some research and discovered that the quote is often attributed to Craig Ferguson. It was also used in the most recent season of The Crown, in a scene that came many years before Ferguson would have said it. But given that The Crown has often deviated from the facts, perhaps Feguson is the true originator.

Regardless of who said it first, I’m glad I have those words scribbled on a Post-It above my desk. They’ve helped me hold my tongue on more than a few occasions. IMO, that’s something we can all do more of most days no matter what role we’re in.