Where is Me
I struggle. Entering into this program intending to become a coach means clarifying “me” first. I must remove body armor, weapon, and badge to dissipate the castle wall I’ve built around myself. I say this in a symbolic way and I know it through experience.
Long ago, when I was a deputy sheriff, putting on the uniform created a shift in my attributes and attitudes. There was also a noticeable shift in how others saw me – casual looks became rare. More often, I was given looks that seemed to reflect each individual’s opinion of cops in general – hatred, scorn, machismo, fear and occasionally respect or gratitude.
Changing clothes is never just about changing clothes. Was I two people, civilian and cop? Or was I somehow fully integrated?
Adding to self-image are reflections upon times when I’ve been effectively medicated to treat a common mental illness and times when this has not been the case. Whereas donning and doffing a police uniform seemed like a “this” or a “that” me, being medicated properly or not is like a “this” and a “that.” I am a drinking glass on the count
er and, with a slight movement, I am a broken glass on the hard floor. Tens or hundreds of dissimilarly shaped shards but all glass. A glass or a fragment of a glass and every fragment is an image of the glass (simplistic quantum physics?). Humpty Dumpty might fall and break irretrievably but I am never beyond assimilation.
It is an ambivalent life that confounds a cohesive definition of “me.” The coaching journey begins here. Pulling everything into a truthful and comprehensible package that is an unambiguous me. When I stand centered, secure, and confident then I can coach from this place. I am not there yet.
