This morning, I was reading The Courage to Be Happy, which explores Adlerian psychology. The book is framed as a dialogue between a young man and a philosopher, discussing how to apply Adler’s ideas to life. The central message is that happiness comes from having the courage to live your life on your own terms instead of letting others dictate it.

There’s a fascinating section about confidence. The philosopher explains that confidence is a process: by accepting yourself, you develop confidence in others. In turn, this trust enables you to contribute to their lives. As you see yourself making a difference, your self-confidence grows, reinforcing the cycle.

This concept resonated with me. For years, I struggled with the idea of confidence. I believed it was something people were either born with or not. I saw myself as someone who didn’t have it, which affected many aspects of my life, especially in school. I constantly compared myself to others, feeling that I wasn’t smart enough or capable of contributing. I would stay quiet in class, afraid my questions were “dumb.” This self-image became a vicious cycle: since I saw myself as incapable, I stopped trying. I didn’t study because I believed it wouldn’t make a difference. This mindset persisted throughout school and beyond.

After I graduated, things got even worse. Without the structure of school, I felt completely lost. I didn’t want to pursue a career in my field of study and had no clear direction. However, I continued working as a coach and training as a climbing athlete. This helped to some extent, but when I decided to turn coaching into a career, I was overwhelmed by imposter syndrome. I thought, I’m not a psychologist or kinesiologist—how can I really contribute? I felt like a fraud and struggled to connect with the people I coached. I was constantly self-conscious and wanted to escape those situations.

Though I’ve made progress, I still face challenges in connecting with clients. At first, I believed coaching was purely about teaching what you know. In that dynamic, the coach is the expert, and the client is the learner. However, I’ve realized that coaching isn’t just about sharing knowledge. Every person has a unique level of understanding, and their “coachability” varies. I often feared I wasn’t knowledgeable enough and that sounding unprofessional would undermine my authority.

Recently, I had a breakthrough: just being there is often enough. I used to think clients expected a perfect, customized plan from the first session. But how could I create something perfect without truly knowing them? My early experiences with private clients were rough because I was too self-conscious to truly listen. This prevented meaningful connection and understanding.

Now, I define “being there” in three ways: physically, intellectually, and spiritually.

• Being there physically means being present in person or available to support.
• Being there intellectually involves discussing facts and practical knowledge. For example, telling someone, “To strengthen your fingers, train them two or three times a week.”
• Being there spiritually is harder to define but essential. It’s about forming a deeper emotional connection—going beyond facts to explore how those facts affect a person’s thoughts and feelings. This level of connection fosters mutual understanding and growth.

Some clients are naturally open and emotionally aware, allowing us to quickly reach this deeper level. Others are more guarded, and it takes time to connect with them. When we remain on the intellectual level, coaching often stays in the realm of planning and programming. However, when a client opens up, we enter what I call “spirit coaching.” In this space, there is no fixed recipe. We learn together by exploring their thoughts, emotions, and goals.

Let’s revisit the finger-strength example. If a client asks me how to get stronger fingers, I could give them a training plan and explain why it works. That would be an intellectual exchange. But if we engage spiritually, I might ask, “Why do you feel you need stronger fingers?” This could lead to various responses:

• “I feel weak on the wall.”
• “My friend told me it’s important.”
• “I don’t know. Isn’t that just what climbers need?”

Through this dialogue, we uncover deeper motivations and beliefs. This process not only helps the client clarify their goals but also strengthens our connection, allowing us both to grow.

Being there intellectually gives someone knowledge. Being there spiritually creates a two-way relationship where both coach and client learn and evolve. This realization was transformative for me. It showed me that I can help people even if they know more than I do in certain areas. My experiences and emotional insights offer unique value. If life were simple and predictable, coaching would be easy or even unnecessary. But it’s not—everyone is unique, and that uniqueness shapes how we connect and grow together.

This understanding has changed my approach to coaching. Initially, coaching often starts with intellectual guidance based on universal principles. Over time, as the relationship deepens, it evolves into a more personalized and spiritual process. This is why it’s so important to work with clients over multiple sessions. As trust and understanding build, the coaching becomes more tailored and impactful. Achieving that kind of connection and transformation isn’t possible from the very beginning—it requires time and presence.

If we circle back to The Courage to Be Happy, it all makes sense. I started my journey without accepting myself. I didn’t believe I had what it took to help others because I saw coaching as purely intellectual—the more I know, the more I can coach. But now I understand that true coaching is more than just knowledge. It’s about connection. The more I feel and relate to someone, the more I can truly help them.

Once I build that connection, I feel confident in my ability to contribute. Through that contribution, I learn to accept myself more. It’s a continuous process—building confidence by helping others, growing through shared experiences, and finding fulfillment in both giving and receiving. Confidence is something I’ve always had, it was just hiding under a lack of self acceptance.

Now the question is: how do I self-accept? That’s the difficult part, and it still needs work, but I’ve found a starting point. The first step is to recognize where and when you are. I used to spend too much time lost in my thoughts, constantly planning and overthinking. I wasn’t living in the moment. But being present—here and now—allows me to listen, connect, and then plan from a place of clarity and understanding.

The second change was in how I view life—my life. I used to think life was more or less the same for everyone, shaped by what they did. Now, I see it differently. It’s not only the actions you take that define who you are, but what you get out of those experiences. Life is subjective—our personal adventure within the larger journey we all share.

What you do can’t really be shared—your actions are your own. But what you learn from those actions can be shared. That’s the beauty of this collective journey. We’re all on the same rocky boat. Some people isolate themselves in the depths of the ship and grow seasick. Others come up to the deck, each doing their thing, but working together to make the ship sail. I want to be the latter and I want to help people get out of the depths.

For me, the key to self-acceptance is embracing this perspective—living in the moment, learning from my experiences, and sharing those lessons with others. It’s not always easy, but with time and presence, I’m learning to thrive in both my life and my coaching.