On Being a Helper
If someone had told me 20 years ago that I’d become a coach and consultant, I would’ve blinked and said, “Wait—what even is that?” It would’ve felt like the opposite of who I was.
I’ve always known I’m here to help. That quiet pull has shaped so many of my decisions, from what I studied to how I move through the world. In many ways, I’ve come to see myself as a helper—even before I had language for what that meant.
For a time in college, I considered becoming a social worker. I felt a strong pull to support people through hard things, especially those most overlooked. But even without fully understanding it, I sensed that the work would ask me to give from parts of myself that were still healing. It required a level of care I wasn’t sure I could sustain. The desire to help never left—it just needed to take a shape I could carry.
Over time, I began to see that helping doesn’t have to mean being on the front lines of a crisis. It can also mean creating space for reflection, for small and steady shifts that eventually spark something much more significant. That realization is what led me to coaching and consulting.
When I say I’m a helper, I don’t mean someone who gives advice or swoops in with solutions. I mean someone who supports by asking questions, listening closely, and making space for others to think, feel, and choose for themselves. Helping, in this sense, isn’t about having the answers. It’s about presence, trust, and partnership. It’s a human-to-human way of being. And it’s what I’ve come to understand as my purpose.
It hasn’t always felt so simple or natural at first. There’s a part of me that’s always wanted to be seen as calm, wise, and generous. I’ve come to understand how easily ego can slip in—and how that can run counter to the kind of helping I believe in. A big part of the practice is noticing that impulse without letting it lead. Being of service isn’t about being impressive. It’s about being present.
What’s always been steady, though, is how alive I feel when I can help someone make sense of their world. Whether it’s a leader finding their voice, a team building trust, or someone wrestling with what’s next, I find meaning in being there for those moments—not fixing, not rescuing, just being with, offering perspective, holding space for what’s unfolding.
At times, I’ve questioned if my work is enough. I’ve struggled with the tension of helping people in systems that can deplete them. I’ve felt out of sync, asking myself how I can advocate for care and clarity inside organizations that sometimes reward the opposite. I’ve sat with that discomfort.
And yet, something in me keeps saying: this matters.
Because even in these systems, there are people. People who want to grow, lead with integrity, and create something better. I’ve seen how one person’s growth can ripple—into their teams, families, and communities. That’s real. And it keeps me going.
Being a helper, for me, isn’t about saving anyone. It’s about creating the conditions for someone to see themselves more clearly and, from that clarity, take their next step with intention. That’s what coaching and consulting allow me to do.
I keep choosing this path not because it’s tidy or certain but because it feels honest and like me.
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This reflection integrates Edgar Schein’s work and his book, Helping: How to Offer, Give and Receive Help, which continues to shape my understanding of presence, partnership, and what it truly means to support others.
