Fifteen years ago, I was sitting at a professional conference, listening with half an ear, when something the speaker said made me sit right up in my seat.
She was talking about how many women reach a point in their careers where the external motivation that got them there – based on other people’s expectations – stops being enough. And that to keep growing, they have to find a different source of purpose.
I don’t remember her exact words, but I remember feeling like I was seen.
After the talk, I walked straight up to her, introduced myself, and enrolled on the spot in her next coaching group, even though I had only the vaguest idea what it was.
That decision began a wonderful coaching relationship with Wendy Wallbridge that lasted for years, but the real gem of that experience wasn’t just the coach, it was the other women in the group. Eight professional women from different industries, each navigating her own leadership crossroads.
One was starting a nonprofit.
One was dealing with significant personal loss.
One had pushed herself so hard at work that she became physically ill, and when she finally quit her job, it was as if a different person emerged.
Their stories weren’t the same as mine. And that turned out to be the point.
Because it wasn’t me, I could see things more clearly. Patterns. Tradeoffs. Early warning signs. Possibilities I hadn’t considered. Watching others wrestle with their choices gave me reassurance that my own challenges were workable, and that there wasn’t a single “right” path to success or happiness.
One interaction, in particular, stayed with me. Witnessing the journey of the woman with health issues reshaped how I thought about effort, ambition, and cost. Years later, it influenced how I managed my own energy, and how seriously I took signs of burnout in others.
The group also exposed me to ideas I wouldn’t have sought out on my own. I remember being introduced to concepts like the “power of intention.” As a fairly hard-boiled scientist, I was skeptical. But I stayed open enough to experiment, and notice what happened.
And indeed within a year of starting the coaching, I was offered not one but two roles I had aspired to – on two consecutive days. I ended up taking both. It was a sign of alignment: clarity of intention, openness to opportunity, and the confidence to say yes. I updated my model of how change actually happens.
In retrospect, what that first group coaching experience gave me wasn’t answers—it was access to adjacent experience. A way to learn not only from my own path, but from watching others live theirs in real time.
This is so profoundly human – we are wired to love stories.
And I believe we can also access and benefit from these “adjacent experiences” in our day to day work. It’s an antidote to isolation and inflexibility.
Consider:
Whose experience at work do you not fully understand yet?
What might change if you got curious instead of comparative?
Where could you deliberately put yourself near people asking different questions than you?
There is something quietly powerful that happens in groups and when we witness others’ experiences, and it’s shaped how I lead, how I coach, and how I continue to grow.
If this way of learning makes you sit up in your seat, I’d love to hear more about what you’re noticing.
The work is always easier when we do it together.
