I Don’t Feel Like a Coach Today
and honestly… I think that’s okay.
I woke up today and didn’t feel like a coach.
Not in a “skip my to-do list” kind of way—
but in the deeper sense.
The kind where you look at what you’re building and wonder,
“Am I really the one for this?”
It’s not that I’ve stopped believing in the work.
It’s that some days, the weight of showing up as the strong one
just feels like… a lot.
Sometimes I get tired of talking about growth while still navigating my own.
Sometimes I sit with my journal open and feel blank—like I have nothing wise or helpful to say.
And I used to panic when those moments came.
I used to think they meant I wasn’t ready.
That maybe I should wait until I felt more “on,” more qualified, more healed.
But I’ve lived enough life—and sat in enough hard spaces—to know that the messy middle is part of the process.
And if I only ever shared from my highlights, I’d be lying.
So, I’m writing this post, not from a mountaintop, but from the in-between.
Not because I have the answer—but because I know I’m not the only one feeling this.
If you’ve ever wondered whether your low-energy, off-kilter, I-don’t-have-it-together days disqualify you from your calling…
this is for you.
A quiet moment with tea and truth — because sometimes the breakthrough begins with stillness.
When You Don’t Feel Like a Coach
There are moments when I look at everything I’ve built—my programs, my story, my mission—and still feel a pause.
Not because I doubt who I am.
But because some days, the weight of holding space for others feels heavier than usual.
Some days, I don’t feel like the coach version of myself.
I just feel like a woman figuring it out.
And that’s the part we don’t always talk about.
You can be deeply called and still have days when you’re tired.
You can be clear on your purpose and still have moments that make you question how to carry it.
What I’ve learned is this:
You don’t have to feel “on” to still be in alignment.
You don’t have to fake energy to prove you’re equipped.
Some of my most honest breakthroughs—personally and professionally—came from the quiet days.
The low-capacity days.
The days I almost cancelled and chose to show up differently instead.
Because being a coach doesn’t mean you’re always overflowing.
Sometimes it means you know how to show up gently.
Sometimes it means you rest.
Sometimes it means you lead from the middle—not the mountaintop.
And that’s not failure.
That’s faithfulness.
The Inner Dialogue — Doubt, Imposter Syndrome, and Frustration
I don’t spiral often—but when I do, it usually sounds like this:
“Why am I doing this?”
“Who do I think I’m helping?”
“This isn’t working fast enough.”
“Maybe I should’ve just stayed where it was safe.”
It doesn’t come every day.
But when it hits, it’s loud.
And the hardest part isn’t the doubt itself—it’s the guilt that follows.
Because I know better.
I know the tools. I teach the tools.
So why am I still here?
That’s the tricky thing about purpose-driven work.
It can feel like you don’t have room to be human.
But I’ve learned to pause when that voice shows up.
To ask myself:
“Is this the truth—or just a feeling?”
“Do I need to push—or do I need to rest?”
Sometimes it’s impostor syndrome.
Sometimes it’s exhaustion.
Sometimes it’s grief in disguise.
And sometimes?
It’s a signal.
A reminder to return to my real support system, not just my mental checklist.
Because no matter how skilled, certified, or experienced you are—you’re not meant to coach yourself through everything alone.
💡 If this feels familiar...
I created a Journal Prompt Guide to help you name what you’re feeling and reconnect with your “why” on the days when everything feels foggy.
⬇️ Grab the Free Journal Prompts
Healing doesn’t always happen in solitude. Sometimes the reset begins when we reach for support.
Alt Text: “Illustration of a wellness support circle: therapist, doctor, friend, faith leader, journal.”
The Wellness Board That Helps Me Recenter
When I start spiraling, I know now: I can’t process it all in my own head.
I need anchors—real people, real practices, and real reminders that I don’t have to carry it all alone.
That’s why I have what I call my “Wellness Board.”
It’s not official, but it’s intentional.
It’s the team I lean on when I start feeling foggy, anxious, or disconnected from my sense of purpose.
Some are people.
Some are practices.
But all of them remind me that I don’t have to perform my healing—I get to receive it.
Here’s who’s on that board for me:
My therapist — who helps me untangle the deeper roots of what I’m feeling, especially when my emotions are louder than my logic
My doctor or psychiatrist — when I need to check in on the physical and chemical side of what I’m experiencing
My best friend — the one I can call and say, “Girl, I don’t want advice. I just need to say this out loud.”
Someone who knows me spiritually — a person who reminds me what God says when I forget what I believe
Journaling and prayer — my sacred space to pour out, reflect, and listen
Massage therapy or bodywork — because sometimes the thing I need most isn’t a mindset shift, it’s nervous system regulation
Some of these supports are weekly rhythms.
Some are as-needed lifelines.
But all of them make sure I don’t drift too far before I check in with myself.
This is what keeps me from silently spiraling.
It’s what keeps me human—and whole—while still walking in purpose.
With time and truth, I’ve learned how to stop waiting for perfect and start showing up as I am.
🌿 Your healing doesn’t have to be DIY.
I’ve made a simple Wellness Board Worksheet to help you name your support system and map what real care looks like for you.
📥 Download the Wellness Board Template
What I’ve Learned About Myself
For a long time, I wore perfectionism like a badge of honor.
It made me dependable, detail-oriented, high-achieving.
It helped me get through college. Land the job. Launch the thing.
But it also slowed me down in the places that mattered most.
Perfectionism kept me quiet when I wanted to speak.
It delayed dreams.
It convinced me that I had to feel fully healed before I could help anyone else.
What I’ve learned is this:
You don’t have to wait until you’re polished to be powerful.
The version of me that waited for the perfect words, the perfect timing, the perfect message?
She meant well.
She wanted to protect the vision.
But she didn’t realize that waiting until it’s perfect is often just fear in disguise.
Now I move differently.
I’ve learned that pretending I’m okay only postpones the healing.
That honesty with myself invites clarity.
That vulnerability doesn’t weaken my voice—it grounds it.
I’m not interested in being impressive anymore.
I want to be effective.
And I’ve seen—over and over again—that truth connects more deeply than polish ever will.
“If I could sit across from the version of you who’s questioning everything, this is what I’d say.”
You’re allowed to lead from the middle of your becoming.
What I’d Say to the Woman Who Feels Like She’s Failing in Her Purpose
First, breathe.
You are not failing.
You’re likely just carrying more than you were ever meant to hold alone.
Purpose is not performance.
And you don’t lose your calling just because you’ve had a hard season.
If your vision feels fuzzy right now, or if you’ve been wondering,
“Why is this taking so long?”
“Did I miss it?”
“Is it too late?” —
I need you to know: it’s not.
You haven’t disqualified yourself.
You’re not behind.
You’re just in the part of the story where the lessons go deeper than the timeline you imagined.
Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is pause.
Not quit—just pause.
Long enough to catch your breath.
Long enough to check in with your soul.
And when you’re ready, here’s something I recommend:
Go back through the moments that prove who you are.
📁 Create a digital “reminder” folder—screenshots, DMs, photos, notes you’ve written yourself.
📔 Keep a journal where you write down your impact—big or small.
🎙️ Revisit your own voice, your own story, your own wins.
Not every low moment needs a fix. Sometimes, it just needs your presence.
It’s a reminder.
Practices I Use When I Don’t Feel Like Showing Up
There are days when the noise is loud.
The inbox is full.
The content ideas feel flat.
And even the things I love to do feel like too much.
When that happens, I don’t push through—I pivot.
Because I’ve learned that showing up doesn’t have to mean performing.
Sometimes showing up means pausing.
Sometimes it means tending to your nervous system first.
Here’s what helps me reset:
Guided breathing — Box breathing, body scans, or a quick 2-minute pause to remind myself I’m safe in my body. (I love using the Calm app or breath prayer.)
Scripture + prayer — Especially verses like “Cast your cares on Him, because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). I don’t use scripture to bypass how I feel—I use it to anchor me.
Journaling — Even if it’s just one sentence or a single question: “What do I actually need today?”
Letting go of the method — If something I normally do isn’t working, I don’t force it. I try something else.
Checking in with my wellness board — A quick voice note to a friend, a therapy session, or even just reading something that reminds me who I am.
I don’t always come out of the moment feeling fully recharged.
But I do come out more grounded, more honest, and more able to respond with intention.
The goal isn’t to push through.
The goal is to come back to yourself—gently, steadily, and without shame.
How These Moments Make Me a Better Coach
I used to think my strength as a coach came from what I knew.
Now I know it comes from what I’ve lived through.
The hard days, the honest days, the “I-don’t-feel-like-a-coach” days—
those are the ones that deepened my work.
They didn’t disqualify me.
They qualified me in ways no certification ever could.
Because I’m not walking into sessions with just tools.
I’m walking in with testimony.
When a client tells me she feels stuck, I don’t offer empty advice—I’ve been there.
When she doubts herself, I don’t rush to fix her—I sit with her.
When she feels like her purpose is on pause, I remind her:
“You’re not behind. You’re in process.”
These moments—these tender, not-so-together moments—have made me more compassionate.
More intuitive.
More present.
They’ve taught me that transformation doesn’t require perfection.
It requires presence.
And I can offer that because I’ve practiced it first—with myself.
So no, I don’t feel like a coach every day.
But on the days I don’t?
That’s when I remember I’m exactly the kind of coach I needed all along.
💛 Before You Go…
If you’re still reading this, I want you to know:
You’re not too late.
You’re not behind.
You’re just human—and that’s more than enough.
If this post spoke to something real inside of you, here are a few ways I’d love to support you next:
🔸 Free Journal Prompt Guide
Reflective questions for the messy middle.
🔸 Wellness Board Worksheet
Map your circle of support—because you don’t have to carry it all alone.
🔸 Book a Discovery Call
Ready to explore coaching support in real life? Let’s talk about what it would look like to walk this out—together.
You’re not disqualified because you’re tired.
You’re becoming—and this space was made for that.
💛 I’m so glad you’re here.
Ashley
This is me — showing up imperfect, unfiltered, and still deeply called.
