Why I’m Writing About Coaching in an AI Newsletter
You might expect an AI tip here. Don’t worry — those are coming. But I need to tell you a story first.
Because the same skills I’ve learned through coaching — listening, presence, asking better questions — are the ones I use every day when I teach students at SF State, mentor journalists in transition and guide people learning to work with AI.
This isn’t a detour from the AI conversation. It’s the foundation of it.
Before Coaching: Opportunities Lost
For years, I was the one telling people what to do — as a professor, a mom, a grandma and even as a high school cheerleader, always cheering others on.
I was also given real opportunities to lead, including chairing my department and serving as president of not one but two professional organizations — big titles. Real responsibility. And I blew it.
Not because I didn’t care, but because my personal life was crumbling — and my communication skills were a mess.
The man I was engaged to once yelled at my son over something as minor as shaving cream. I shifted into “keep the peace” mode, but I knew I would leave. When I finally did, he threatened me as I walked out. My son and I moved into a shabby hotel, where we ended up with bed bugs — a low point I couldn’t bring myself to share with anyone but my therapist. I sank so deep into that hole I couldn’t even show up when my brother needed me.
At work, I kept smiling through faculty meetings, but the truth is I didn’t know how to talk about what I was going through, and that silence only made me feel more cut off.
I even landed a job at LinkedIn — part-time at first — which helped me reclaim some of my voice and taught me a whole lot about how technology was changing journalism! But even then, I stayed hidden. On the outside, I was showing up. On the inside, I was shut down.
So when people looked to me for leadership, I often felt at a loss. I wasn’t showing up the way they needed. I felt disconnected, even in spaces I had once cherished.
And all the while, I was looking at my big sister, thinking, “She’s the one who figured it out.” Faithful to her husband. Steady in her church. Solid in one relationship. Me? I was bouncing from relationship to relationship, trying to find the stability I thought came so easily to her.
The Shift
By 2024, I knew something had to change. That’s when I enrolled in the Transformative Coaching Essentials (TCE) program at McLaren Coaching.
It wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t outrageous either. They offered payment plans, and I thought: If I don’t invest in myself, who will?
And let me be clear: this program was not easy. It was hard. There were days I wanted to quit. It pushed me to my edges and made me look at parts of myself I had spent years avoiding. But staying — staying when I most wanted to walk away — is what stretched me. It’s what forced me to grow in ways I didn’t know I could.
I stopped shutting down. I learned to listen first. I practiced presence — the kind that meets people where they are and stands with them there. I learned what true accountability looks like, how to support and challenge people in equal measure and how to use practical tools like NLP techniques to shift perspective.
Thanks to that training, I found the courage to have one of the hardest conversations of my life — with my sister’s husband. It made me rethink the stories I’d been telling myself. (I’ll share more soon.)
Dogs, Cats, and Signs We Miss
I’ve always been a dog person. Monkee came to me from Rocket Dog Rescue in 2010, after my second marriage ended, and stayed through the dark years with the bad fiancé. By the time I moved in with my husband in 2015, we had three dogs. They were family.
We lost Monkee to old age in 2020 (or maybe 2021—grief blurs time), and Scruffy, who was fourteen, in September 2024, just before my sister Mika entered the hospital in Vallejo and never walked out again.
My beloved and loyal Scruffy had lost the ability to walk, so I pushed him in a stroller. I told myself I’d know it was time when he stopped eating. After three days without food, I watched him sit on our terrace in the cold morning, staring into the sun and refusing to come back inside. In that moment, I knew it was time.
Looking back, I can’t help but think of Mika. She loved food—sushi, fancy meals, nights out with her husband. Food was joy for her. Connection. And yet, in the hospital, she stopped eating. I didn’t see it for what it was then, even as the doctors kept assuring me she’d recover. With Scruffy, I recognized the sign. With Mika, I couldn’t. Maybe I didn’t want to.
Fast forward to 2025. After trying and failing to rehome Trinity and Honeybunch, they became ours. Against all odds, I’m a cat owner again.
How was this possible? Because I worked through challenges I once thought were impossible — like figuring out the science of cat litter and discovering the genius of a catio. Step by step, I found solutions.
And I didn’t do it alone. Staff coaches and coaches in my TCE cohort helped me reframe obstacles, brainstorm creative fixes and remind me that even something as ordinary as pet care can become a practice in resilience.
The cats are thriving. And they’re teaching me too — about patience, about presence, about change. My husband even softened toward them, which is both hilarious and probably going in the one-woman show I’m writing.
Gratitude
I didn’t get here alone. Coaching gave me new skills, but I also leaned on my therapist, a detox practitioner, my sister’s circle of friends and church members, Compassion Key, other healing practices and Left Margin Lit.
At Left Margin Lit in Berkeley, I met poet and writer MK Chavez, who was teaching a Writer’s Block class. She encouraged me to push through, and when I learned she was a life coach—though I had no idea what that really meant — I signed up to work with her. Three months later, I found the spark to start my podcast. When I discovered she had trained at McLaren, it sealed it — I knew TCE was my next step.
These layers of support, professional and personal, human and furry, helped me believe: we can all change, no matter our age.
Why Coaching Matters
The most powerful part of coaching is when a client says, “I’m done. I’ve solved the problem I came to you for.”
Just this week, a client who once feared losing her job told me she’s now thriving in a new co-leadership role. That moment marked the close of our three months together. Coaching isn’t about holding on — it’s about helping people step fully into their own strength.
The skills I learned in TCE made this possible — skills aligned with ICF Core Competencies and more: deep listening, kind accountability, supporting and challenging, and perspective-shifting tools. But it’s not just skills — it’s a way of being: presence, openness and the ability to meet people exactly where they are. And I know I still have a lot more to learn. Coaching, like teaching and journalism, is a lifelong practice.
Final Reflection
Coaching isn’t easy. Real transformation never is.
TCE pushed me to my limits. Like I said, there were moments I wanted to quit. But choosing to stay taught me what resilience actually looks like.
And I left with skills I now carry into my classroom, my journalism mentoring, my personal relationships and my AI workshops.
If you’re wondering whether it’s time to invest in yourself, ask yourself what I asked: If not now, when? And if not you, who?
Curious to Learn More?
In the months leading up to TCE, Cami McLaren offers 1.5-hour “Game Changer” workshops. Each one gives you a practical coaching tool you can use right away, plus a taste of what the whole training program is like. Coaches stick around at the end to answer questions and share their experiences, and you even get a free coaching call afterward. The workshops are just $35, with all proceeds going to the sponsorship fund.
If you want to hear more about what it was like for me, I’d love to chat. Feel free to reach out.
