Essays

June 12, 2024

Should A Friend Be Your Life Coach?

Photo By Vladimir Ilievski

By Denise K. James 

While combing through Spotify recently, I discovered an episode of the podcast Money With Katie titled “Life Coaches: Pyramid Scheme or Legitimate Investment? I Hired One to Find Out.” 

Eagerly, I hit the play button, wondering how Katie Gatti Tassin’s experience had been with her life coach. Would she be able to shed light on what a life coach is actually supposed to do? 

Because, for yours truly, hiring a life coach was a mistake. 

I met my friend Ford when I was in my late 20s and had just broken up with a boyfriend. At the time, Ford made a perfect platonic buddy to distract me from what I thought was heartbreak but was actually just a bruised ego. We both drank heavily, had mutual friends who liked to party along with us, and agreed on music, mostly Phish and Tupac. 

Ford and I lost touch for several years after moving out of the city, but we reconnected again in our 40s. We still seemed aligned in many ways. We were both “working on ourselves” with various spiritual practices and spent long conversations on our favorite messaging app, talking about our “big three” in astrology and whatever lessons we were learning from the cosmos. 

One day, during one of our routine chats, Ford revealed that he had started a coaching business. He seemed excited about it – said he’d helped his clients get back on their game, so to speak, and make more money. 

I have to admit, it sounded appealing. Ford was always lifting my spirits during our conversations, and it was believable that he could do the same for others. I never asked if he was certified as a coach or how he got started on his new path. After all, we were friends – and he’d never asked me what my credentials are as a writer and editor. 

Organizations offering coaching certifications do exist. Erickson Coaching International, based in Canada and founded in 1980 by a woman named Marilyn Atkinson, is the first to pop up upon a search for “life coaching organization.” Then there’s the International Coaching Federation, formed in the United States in 1995. ICF now has 60 chapters worldwide, according to its website, and offers scholarships to aspiring coaches. But as the New York Times points out, the industry “lacks standardized accreditation,” meaning that “one of the dangers of life coaching is that anyone can claim the title of life coach.”

One day, after listening to a particularly rousing speech from Ford about how much his clients appreciated his input, I wondered out loud if I should hire him as my own life coach. Maybe it would help me earn more money or get a byline in Vanity Fair. I wasn’t exactly on top of my game, so why not try something different? (It’s worth pointing out here that I thought this was the purpose of coaching – to help you make changes in your daily life and career.) 

Ford agreed that he could and would help me. Not for free, of course. I would pay him $150 a session – a far cry from his usual $500, he kept insisting – and we would work together twice a month. Secretly, I wondered if I was spending too much on “self-improvement” to be a middle-class single woman. I was already going to therapy twice a month. 

Our first few video meetings took place that fall, and I wasn’t sure what to make of them. They didn’t, from my perspective, seem different enough from therapy (or from our casual friend chats) for me to continue. Instead, those old standbys of childhood – low self-esteem, dealing with my negativity and other “internal” matters – took up our sessions. But wasn’t Ford supposed to help me develop a game plan for article pitching? Investing? Getting ahead? Our conversations lacked structure, and I was left at the end of each one wondering if I was wasting my hard-earned cash. 

So I followed my gut and my wallet. After the third video call, I broke the news to Ford that I didn’t want to complete our second month. Earnestly, I explained that I needed to concentrate on therapy, and, furthermore, I had stretched my budget beyond what I could sensibly afford. I spoke calmly and rationally, unsure of how he would receive the information. Surely, as my friend, he would be understanding, right?

Wrong. Ford totally went off on me. He accused me of “choosing my therapist over him,” which I found puzzling (Did therapists and life coaches do the same thing?) and wrote me off as a friend later that winter, after increasing aloofness over the holidays. I was sad and sheepish that I had jeopardized the friendship by hiring him to work with me – but I still wanted my questions answered. 

Months later, listening to Katie’s podcast, I realized that when it comes to life coaching, there are no definitive answers. The show consisted of Katie talking about her own life coach, Elizabeth, who had joined her on the show, and sharing the tips Elizabeth taught her to regulate “big feelings.” Useful indeed! But was that life coaching? 

Honestly, if I had known how murky the life-coaching waters are, I would not have hired Ford. I suppose I can chalk this up to an expensive lesson, but, surprisingly, the lesson isn’t about mixing business with friendship (although that’s always a good one). It’s about sticking with licensed counselors, or folks with a more specific expertise, not something as broad as “life.” 

When I leave my therapist’s office, I have no doubt about her education and credentials, nor about where my money is going. And I know she and I won’t be meeting for drinks later.

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