Last week, I had to reschedule a coaching session.

My son was sick, and the only doctor’s appointment available that day coincided with my client's first coaching session with me.

Simple, right?
Step 1: Reschedule the coaching call.
Step 2: Take my son to the doctor. 

Nope! The moment I realized there was a potential conflict, I felt a wave of anxiety:

What if she gets upset?
What if she thinks I am unprofessional?
What if she cancels?

I even caught myself debating whether I should delay my son's appointment until the next day instead.

As if his health was somehow negotiable.
As if my client's potential disappointment was more important than my son's medical needs.
As if I wasn't allowed to have a need.

That was the moment I realized this wasn't about scheduling.

It was about a pattern.

For much of my life, I have been very good at adapting to other people's needs. As a daughter, a wife, a mother, an employee, a coach, a friend, etc., I learned to anticipate what others needed and adjust myself accordingly.

It made me responsible and dependable—someone you can ALWAYS count on and I take pride in that. But it also made it very easy to ABANDON myself. 

When someone else's needs collided with my own, my default was often to move mine. Not because they weren't important or valid, but because somewhere along the way, I learned that keeping other people comfortable felt safer than disappointing them. .

The result?
I became the collateral damage. 

So despite the discomfort, I chose differently this time. I chose my son. More accurately, I chose my personal life over my professional life.
And this happened: "We can reschedule later." My client replied. A completely neutral response. But my nervous system didn't experience it as neutral. It immediately started filling in the blanks: “Is she okay?” Inside, I felt as though I had done something wrong. I was bracing for backlash that never came. 

That was not the reality.

We found another time and had a deeply transformative session together. Neither of us even remembered the rescheduling.
My fear?
It didn’t come from my client. It came from an old part of me that still believes approval must be earned through being endlessly available and accommodating. That prioritizing myself somehow means I'll have to pay for it later. 

The discomfort I felt wasn't proof that I had made the wrong decision. It was proof that I was making a different one:

⇒ Instead of sacrificing my own needs, I chose to honour them.
⇒ Instead of rearranging my son's care around my work, I rearranged my work around my son's care.
⇒ Instead of asking for permission, I made a decision.

And choosing a different response pattern felt so profoundly scary and uncomfortable. As if I were standing on the edge of a cliff.

So I sat with it. No judgement. Just observation.

Then it hit me.

I see this pattern all the time in people navigating separation and divorce.

Many know exactly what they need to do. They need to ask the question, set the boundary, gather the information, consult a lawyer, or make a difficult decision.

Yet taking the next step feels terrifying.

Not because they don't know what to do, but because they have spent years prioritizing everyone else's needs, emotions, and expectations. After a while, choosing yourself can feel unsafe simply because it is unfamiliar.

⇒ What looks like confusion is often fear.
⇒ What looks like indecision is often self-doubt after years of self-abandonment.

This is why Emotional Regulation is one of the foundational pillars of my Divorce Transformation Framework. Before we can make clear decisions, we need to feel safe enough to hear our own voice.

Because divorce is about far more than legal documents, parenting schedules, support payments, or asset division.

It's about rebuilding trust in yourself.
It's about knowing, deep down, that no matter what happens next, you will be okay.

And that is the journey I have the privilege of supporting my clients through. 

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash