Sim Chen Xing

As I concluded the workday, I reflected on where I am and how far I have come. Though the hurt from my distant past has not yet fully healed, life has given me the space to rest and recover.

I thought about what I would love to have in a friend, mentor, counsellor, and coach. I lament the deep hurt I experienced at the hands of both pastoral and professional counsel, yet I’m glad those things happened; they taught me invaluable lessons that I would otherwise not be able to learn. Through them, I have a glimpse of understanding as to what people at their lowest might feel and what I, as a coach, can do to offer the comfort they need.

Never Suggest

One of the deepest wounds I endured came from a counsellor’s suggestion. It all started when a close family member accused me of being suicidal and called the police. I was then involuntarily committed to a mental institution and subsequently forced to drop out of school. At the height of my pain, while still confined, the counsellor forced me to hug that family member, threatening that I would not be discharged if I refused. The sheer sense of violation overwhelmed me, but I complied to secure my release. Needless to say, I did not heal.

Although the counsellor’s suggestion may have come from a good place, it was the last thing I needed. He believed a hug would stimulate positive emotions and foster reconciliation, yet he failed to consider the fresh trauma—and the long history of hurt—between that family member and me. What was intended as healing instead infected the raw, open wound. What was meant for good became an act of profound harm.

This extreme but real example shows how even a simple suggestion can become deeply hurtful. It would not have happened if the counsellor had merely practised active listening and held his tongue.

When we coach clients with open wounds, we must tend to those wounds—never aggravate them. Every wound is different, so we must pay careful attention to its nature and apply suitable tactics with extreme care. We do this by tapping into the emotional core of the matter, asking how the client thinks, feels, and experiences each moment. A coach must read the room and pull back when necessary, holding the person with absolute care and genuine love.

That said, being overly protective can be counter-productive. An overprotective approach may feel unnatural, stifling honest conversation. The coach therefore needs to stay attuned and adjust to the client’s needs and the energy in the room.

Be Truthful

When a coach is in a hurry, the client notices. Once, during a pastoral counselling session, I was navigating the wreckage of my life. By then I had been discharged from the institution, forced to drop out of school, and was too broken to maintain any semblance of a normal relationship. Inside, I felt shattered beyond repair. My hatred for others—and for myself—was beyond what I could comprehend. I hoped that pastoral guidance might help. I was wrong.

A couple of hours into the session, the pastor grew visibly agitated by how the conversation was going. He stopped listening, opened his Bible, and read aloud:

“In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.” (Ephesians 4:26-27)

Then he added, “Whenever you feel angry, bring it to the Lord in prayer, and do not end the day being angry.” In classic Christian fashion, he quoted the hymn What a Friend We Have in Jesus: “O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer!”

Oh—so it’s my fault I feel this way? Do you think I haven’t prayed? Do you think I chose this pain?

I couldn’t raise my voice at the elderly pastor who meant well, yet good intentions again proved hurtful. He massively downplayed my pain, and my self-loathing intensified. I left more bitter than I had arrived.

He simply wanted to end our conversation so he could have dinner with his family. There was nothing wrong with that. He could have told me honestly, and I would have left unhurt. But trying to wrap things up “nicely” with a quick biblical injunction helped no one.

As coaches, we sometimes try to tick every box in our coaching model—from goal-setting to identifying next steps. Yet we must ask whether that is truly what our client needs.

When a client is hurting, we may need to sit with certain emotions far longer than we find comfortable—and accept that we may not reach a tidy objective that day.

Some coaches feel like failures when markers aren’t met or clients leave without an “aha” moment. That is something we must recognise and make peace with.

Time Is the Best Healer

If you’ve read this far, you may have spotted the thread running through it all: there is almost nothing you can do to make a deeply hurting person feel better on the spot. Do not suggest. Do not assume. Do not impose. And do not wrap up prematurely.

A wounded client needs time, space, and immense patience. To offer that support, a coach must practise patience, restraint, and acute emotional sensitivity. Never assume a hint of progress equals healing. Never let your guard down—yet remain sensitive to every emotional shift in the client.

Here are a few guiding reflections for coaching clients with open wounds:

• Are you providing solutions? Pause and reflect.
• Do you have concerns that might interfere with the session? Be truthful and share them.
• Are you putting yourself in the client’s shoes? Stop—you are not them.
• Are you assuming the conversation is helping? Don’t guess; ask the client directly.

Final Thoughts

At the heart of it all, coaching clients with open wounds is not about fixing them. Rather, it is about faithfully walking alongside them. It’s about creating a space where the hurting feel seen, not scrutinised; heard, not hurried; held, not handled.

Healing doesn’t happen because we say the right things—it happens when we dare to be present in the silence, the mess, and the unknown. And maybe, that is what true coaching is about: showing up with humility, bearing witness to pain without flinching, and trusting that even in the stillness, something sacred is already at work.