I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I love coaching so much.
Not in a marketing way.
Not in a “this is good for business” way.
But in a really honest way. And I think it comes down to this:
I know what it feels like to lead without enough support.
I know what it feels like to be the CEO who can’t really offload upwards because the board needs reassurance.
I know what it feels like to be the board chair who can’t offload sideways because everyone else is already stretched.
I know what it feels like to care so deeply about the mahi that you carry it home with you.
The emails.
The funding gaps.
The staff tensions.
The constant sense that you should be doing more.
Nonprofit leadership can look purposeful and inspiring from the outside.
On the inside, it can feel lonely.
That’s why I love coaching. Because it interrupts the loneliness.
When I sit with a nonprofit leader, I’m not trying to fix them.
I’m not trying to impress them. I’m not trying to prove anything.
I’m sitting beside them.
And there’s something powerful that happens when a leader has uninterrupted space to think out loud.
To process. To say the thing they haven’t said anywhere else.
Often they start the session in a swirl — talking quickly, holding ten threads at once. And then we slow it down.
We sift. We separate signal from noise.
And somewhere along the way they pause and say,
“Okay. I think I know what I need to do.”
That moment still gets me.
Because it’s not my solution. It’s theirs.
Coaching, at its best, restores a leader’s sense of agency.
There’s good research about why coaching works — about autonomy and competence and connection. And I love that the science backs it up.
But honestly? What I see every week is much simpler.
Leaders need:
Space to think
Someone neutral
Someone who understands the sector
Someone who isn’t judging them or reporting back to anyone
Someone who can gently challenge them without destabilising them
In our sector especially, so many leaders are holding organisations together with duct tape and determination.
They’re managing under-resourced teams.
They’re navigating funder expectations.
They’re trying to stay values-led in systems that can feel transactional.
And they’re expected to do it all calmly. Without wobbling. Without doubt.
That’s not realistic. It’s not even healthy.
I sometimes think one of the quiet myths in nonprofit leadership is that if you’re strong enough, you should be able to handle it on your own.
But the strongest leaders I know have support.
They have places to process. They have people who ask them the questions no one else asks.
They don’t wait until they’re burnt out or in crisis.
They build support in early.
And I can tell you — having been on both sides of the table — that sitting with a coach when you’re in the thick of it changes how you lead.
You make decisions more cleanly. You stop reacting and start choosing.
You notice where you’re over-functioning.
You breathe. You remember why you’re there.
For me, coaching nonprofit leaders feels personal.
Because I love this sector.
I love good people trying to do good things in messy systems. And I hate seeing those good people quietly exhausted.
So when I coach, I’m not just helping someone hit goals.
I’m helping them build sustainability into their leadership. I’m helping them lead in a way that doesn’t cost them everything.
And that feels like mahi worth doing.
If you’re leading right now and feeling stretched…
If you’re the one everyone turns to…
If you’re holding things together but not sure how long you can keep doing it like this…
You don’t have to do it alone.
Coaching isn’t about weakness. It’s about refusing to carry leadership in isolation.
And if there’s one thing I know for sure, after all these years in this sector, it’s this:
Good leaders don’t need to be more heroic. They need better support.
And that’s what I love being part of.
—
If this lands, you’re welcome to reply and tell me what leadership feels like for you right now.
Or just sit with it.
But please don’t assume you have to hold it all on your own.
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