Sim Chen Xing

Coaching people who are hurt is tricky.

When someone opens up about their pain, our instinct is often to share something from our own lives. “I’ve been there too,” we say. We try to connect through our wounds. But as well-meaning as this might be, it’s not always the most helpful thing. In fact, if the pain we’ve experienced seems less than what the client has gone through, we may inadvertently downplay their experience. If our pain seems more, the client might feel pressured to minimise their own or—worse—feel like they now need to comfort us.

This is where coaching diverges from casual conversation. Coaching is about holding back—holding back our thoughts, our stories, our need to connect through shared suffering. It’s about holding space. It’s about making room for someone else’s story to breathe. A story that won’t be judged, compared, or evaluated. A story that needs safety. A story that needs peace.

I’ve had my fair share of hurt in life. Deep wounds. Some too painful to even describe, and some still healing after more than a decade. These aren’t distant memories—they’re still part of my story. And they’ve made me softer, more empathetic. When a client talks about tragedy, I find myself understanding. Not just nodding politely, but truly understanding.

But here’s the key: the coaching space is not about me. It never was. It’s not about my pain, my healing, or my growth. It’s about the person in front of me. And that has important implications.

The sharing of your life must happen elsewhere

Yes, your story matters. But when and how you share it matters more.

If you want your clients to know that you’ve walked through pain and come out stronger, let that story be told outside of sessions. Use your blog, your social media, or your workshops—but do it with care. Not everyone wants to hear about how you overcame your struggles. Some people are repelled when it seems like the coach is always talking about themselves. I’ve heard comments like, “All they ever talk about is their own trauma, where’s the true coaching?”

As coaches, we need to be aware that some people connect with vulnerability while others don’t. So we have to be mindful of what we share and what we hope to achieve. Do we want to market authenticity? Or do we want to be a blank slate so others can project safety?

There is no perfect answer. But one thing’s clear: don’t bring your life story into the coaching room. That space belongs to the client.

Put away preconceived notions and focus on the client

Sometimes we think we know someone. But most times, we truly don’t.

Maybe they were a long lost church friend. Maybe they were a ex-colleague. We have seen them at their best, or their worst. Then one day, out of the blue, they reach out for coaching.

It’s tempting to carry what we knew about the person into the session. To think we already understand where they’re coming from. But we don’t. We can’t. People change. Hurt changes people. Time rewrites stories.

So when someone comes back into your life through the coaching door, enter with caution. Don’t assume. Don’t ask questions that redirect focus to you, like “Why did you reach out to me?” Let that go. Instead, focus on them. Honour the sacredness of that moment. They came to you for a reason. Let them reveal it in their own time.

Never try to understand the hurt

This one might sound strange. Isn’t empathy the core of what we do?

Yes, and no. Trying to “understand” someone’s pain by comparing it to our own or to something else can be dangerous. We think we’re being empathetic, but really, we’re inserting ourselves into their experience. We’re trying to grasp something that might not be graspable.

The truth is: we cannot fully understand what the client is going through. Their pain is theirs alone. It’s shaped by their memories, their beliefs, their context. And when we try to understand by comparing it to a movie scene, or a moment from our past, we reduce their complexity into something we can label.

Don’t do that. Instead, acknowledge the limit. Say, “That sounds incredibly painful,” or “I can see how deeply this is affecting you.” Then stop. Hold space. Be there. No need to solve or comprehend. Just journey with them.

Be okay with The journey

Some clients won’t heal in six sessions. Some won’t heal in sixty. And that’s okay.

Hurt takes time. I know that first-hand. I’ve been wrestling with hurt caused by my family for over a decade now. And even then, I am not completely healed Yet, it is because of the pains I have endured and the people that have journeyed with me, I am now a better person. I have grown in my own ways.

So when we coach people who are grieving, broken, or lost, we need to be prepared for the long haul. That doesn’t mean locking ourselves into indefinite contracts. But it does mean being emotionally prepared to walk slowly. It means understanding that our job isn’t to fix, but to accompany. To hold space, session after session, for as long as it takes.

And yes, coaching is a profession. It’s a business. But it is also—deeply—a calling. A calling to care. A calling to honour. A calling to love our neighbours by showing up, again and again, with compassion and presence.

Concluding Thoughts

Coaching is sacred work. And when we coach the hurt, we are choosing to walk alongside people at their most vulnerable. Our own wounds don’t disqualify us from this work—they deepen us. But we must know where our pain belongs, and when to use it.

Coaching is not the place for our stories. It’s the place for our clients to tell theirs.
And if we hold that space with care, with humility, and with love, healing might just begin.

Not because we understood their pain.
But because we were there when they needed someone most.