Over the past couple of months, I’ve been writing a lot about how to become a good coach to your team or for others. I’ve gotten great feedback on the effectiveness of that content.

It wasn't only for marketing Trajectify that I decided to write about coaching. It was because I have benefited from so much life-altering coaching in the last two years. I want to share how being coached was critical to my navigating one of the most trying times in my life.

One that you probably didn’t know about.

I’m sure you’ve heard and thought a lot about the many impacts of the pandemic — how it’s affected our workplaces, our careers, our mental health, our children, our relationships. And our understanding of what is important to each of us, the long view.

I’m continuing to make sense of the pandemic’s impact on me, as, quite unexpectedly, it turned my personal life upside down. And as the pandemic begins to come to an end (hopefully), my life looks very different from the one I had in February 2020.

It’s a happier life, and it’s one I wouldn’t have arrived at without some of the most important coaching I’ve ever received.

Let’s start at the beginning

Like most people who are gay, I knew when I was a kid. (How’s that for not burying the lede?)

Of course, it was a very different choice to come out as a gay man in the late 70s and early 80s. There was a lot of shame around it. And it was the height of the AIDS epidemic.

While I didn’t think my family would judge me, my life would have been very different — one that was harder.

So I chose to live a life that was safer, even if it wasn’t who I was meant to be. I dated women and got married right after college. At the beginning, it was fine. I was a good husband. I was happy we had kids. There were periods of time where I could bury the knowledge of my true identity, but I never really forgot it. There is no escaping our hardwiring, our true selves.

Over time it began affecting my behaviors. It affected my marriage. It affected my ability to be a good parent. It even affected what kind of jobs I sought or chose to take.

Even so, I was planning to continue living that way, as I had done for many years. And then the pandemic came.

For the first time in my life, I was fully working from home, not mobile. As was everyone else in the house. We didn’t have freedom of movement, and we didn’t have space from one another. I projected forward — could this be the reality of the rest of my life?

Complicated circumstances led me to my aha moment that none of us deserved this version of me or how I contrived my relationships to fit it. This is not me, and it’s hurting other people.

The pandemic was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Living this way was affecting my happiness, and it was affecting other people. The shame I’d felt 40 years ago about being gay had shifted. Now it was shame about having hid it.

Coming out from under that shame and vulnerability required courage. To stop hiding. To move past the fear. (I’m sure you’ve read Brené Brown, too.)

I came out to my wife.

My therapist, my coach

This isn’t specifically a coming out story. It’s one about coaching. And that’s what I then did – got a coach.

Well, I’d had coaches before — business coaches and leadership coaches. I’d never worked with someone specifically to address my personal life. So I started working with a therapist that specializes in these issues. And for the last couple years, he’s coached me towards some of my goals.

Up to that point, I’d done some counseling. That was time we spent trying to fix a problem that was unfixable because I wasn’t being honest. I invested a lot of money in fooling some good people, and wasted a lot of time in the process.

My wife had asked me what I wanted. I truthfully didn’t know.

It took me about nine months to figure out even a starting point for this journey I’d begun.

One of the first things my therapist suggested was that I join a support group for men like me — in a committed relationship with a woman and questioning their sexuality.

Given it was mid-pandemic, the meetings were virtual. I signed up. Over several weeks, I made multiple attempts to sign into a meeting, turn on my video, and introduce myself. When you’re online, it’s too easy to hit the “Exit” button when you’re feeling fear. What if I see someone who knows me? It required continued accountability from my coach to build the courage to go through with it.

As you’d expect, the fear was unfounded. They quickly became my peer group, and the men in that group offered invaluable support over the coming months. They shared their experiences and insights. They gave me a network and pointed me toward resources.

And, like any good peer group, they offered further accountability.

Anchored by fear

This was just the beginning of this new journey and you can already see the effect fear might have on progress. It was also fear (and shame) that planted the seeds decades ago which led to this moment.

Fear was now anchoring me to some final outcome that was really scary. Am I going to leave a marriage, risk losing everything that I love and an existence that’s very comfortable? For what?

Mentally, I could fast forward a few decades to my eighties. Me, alone, no one to care for me, sitting in a dark and barren apartment with a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, barely able to afford retirement because I’d lost it all. No partner, no one in my life to care for me.

It was bleak. Without exaggeration, that was the kind of stuff that fear would let enter my mind. Not always logical, not always conscious, but it’s there.

Without coaching, I couldn’t project forward to some unknown positive outcome, or even a well-defined goal. Fear inhibited my ability to make progress and could have held me back from living with greater happiness.

Taking it step by tiny microstep

The coaching my therapist gave me was effective. Like the rappelling guide I’ve written about before, he broke it down into microsteps. After all, there’s no journey without that next step. And then the next step. And the next step.

He and my peer coaches work with an almost autocratic style of coaching because you don’t start out with a lot of confidence. It was best for me not to think about the step that came after whatever I was working on.

Step one had been coming out to my wife. The next step was a better understanding of my sexual identity. The step after was figuring out whether we wanted to remain married.

Separating and living alone? That was a huge step. (Remember, I had gotten married right out of college, so I had never lived alone.)

My therapist coached me not to get too far ahead of myself. I couldn’t think about what it was going to be like to date men or where I’d meet them, what it was going to be like to live as a gay man. Plus, I hadn’t dated since the last century, and then it had been women. Thinking about it all too soon would’ve sent me back into fearful avoidance.

A more logical next step would be to learn to meet other men like me, get practice in making friendships and being out in group settings.

Thankfully my therapist and my peer group presented the same approach — use these microsteps so I didn’t get ahead of myself. They’d been through it, and coached others through it. They recommended going slowly, slower than you’d think, and taking things one small step at a time.

Without that type of guidance, I never would have rappelled off the side of the mountain and I never would’ve moved forward on this journey.

Using peer accountability

The second person I needed to come out to after my wife was my son. By this point, it had been well over a year since I’d first disclosed. I’d spent months in therapy, being coached one step at a time. We had decided to separate, and we had shared that information with our kids, only disclosing the “parent-splaining” that we had grown apart.

I had yet to tell anyone else (besides my therapist and my peer group) that I was gay.

So, I flew to Florida to come out to my son. I knew it was going to be a difficult conversation, and I was scared — really scared. I didn’t know how it was going to go.

Sitting in his house one afternoon, I tried to bring it up multiple times. I just couldn’t. Remembering that it was Wednesday night, the night of a support group’s virtual meeting, I went back to my hotel.

I decided not to come out that night. Instead, I signed onto the support group and shared. I came down here to come out to my son, and I haven’t done it. I’m feeling stuck.

The group offered strong encouragement. A peer group never gives formal accountability, they have no “fiduciary” duty. They won’t lose sleep if you don’t do what you said you were going to do. Still, telling your peers and leaning into a little of that peer pressure is helpful. You have to face them if you don’t do what you said you were going to do. You start to lose credibility.

I knew I was going to talk with them again the following week, and they were going to want to know what happened with my son.

So that next day, I went back to my son’s house, and I did it.

And, as it often happens, the end result was not what I was expecting. Within minutes, every fear I had was gone. What was also unexpected for me was that it facilitated an opportunity to change our relationship, to heal, allowing us to start to grow closer than we’d been. It shouldn’t be surprising really — once I had accepted myself, having deeper relationships with others became possible.

Coaching through the fear

It was the positive feedback and reinforcement that I needed to keep going, to keep telling the people I needed to tell.

Each subsequent time I came out, the fear was less. I’d faced the biggest fear and realized I’d way overestimated it. Not only did something bad not happen — it actually made things better.

That builds confidence. Each moment along this journey where I got to the next level brought me closer to this moment, writing this article because I have far less fear and a lot more courage.

Fear weighs heavily on us. It creates friction. We may not even fully understand it or be aware of it at the time. When rappelling, why did my knees keep buckling at the edge of the cliff?

After six months of a separation, my wife and I decided we were each a little happier, even though neither of us felt confident in knowing what was ahead. Despite the fear of uncertainty, we chose to move forward a divorce.

That feedback was helpful for me. Less fear left more room for happiness — and not just for me only, but for others in my relationships.

Possible because my coaching had me focus on the journey instead of just the destination.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”

— Lao Tzu

In an alternate universe

Maybe this is something that I should have done in 1985. I’m not sure what the outcome would’ve been. I don’t know if I’d have gotten the great support which I’ve received today.

I’m very thankful for the men and women who did come out back then and paved a path. It couldn't have been an easy journey for them.

When I wrote about Business Leadership and Anti-Racism in June of 2020, I said that “I apologize for the years I spent sitting on the sidelines…” Might I have done that here, too? Waited for others to make it more comfortable so that I could do it more easily?

I don’t know what that would’ve been like for me. Yet that’s okay.

I further wrote, “Your past doesn't need to dictate your future. Be vulnerable, and be open to change.”

Like I often advise my clients, I’m not looking off the stern (back) of the boat at how I got here. I'm at the bow, looking ahead towards a destination on the horizon.

Final thoughts

When I got to the base of the mountain, my rappelling journey was over.

This journey is still ongoing. I’ve hit some major milestones. I’m living alone. Disclosing to the important people in my life. Meeting men. And coming out here now.

If happiness is our gauge for success, I’m definitely headed in the right direction.

Typically, I end each article with a pitch about how we might work together. Maybe this time my call to action is to find out if you have a single cousin. 🤷‍♂️

Just kidding. Really.

When you think about it, there are no new lessons here. Obstacles are created by our fears. Vulnerability, coaching and courage are powerful tools. Progress happens when we take one step at a time. Aim for happiness.

You’ve heard me share these insights many times before.

I like to use storytelling as part of my sharing lessons. In a 2400 word article there’s only so much of this particular story that can be told. You’ll see some more of it in future lessons. (You can imagine there’s a lot to unwrap here!)

Coming this far would have been so much more difficult without coaching and peer support. Maybe it wouldn’t have even happened. I might even still be standing on the edge of a cliff in West Virginia, knees buckled, afraid to take the small steps necessary to rappel into the gorge.

If you’d like to chat, grab a spot for a short phone call to catch-up.