That Moment When a Conversation Starts to Feel Lost

There’s a particular kind of panic that shows up—the urge to say something, to reassert direction, to make sure the time is productive and that I’m providing value.

A metaphor that’s been helping me reframe that experience is this:

The client is the balloon.
The coach holds the string.

The balloon is allowed to float.
It can drift, change direction, rise, dip.
That movement isn’t a problem—it’s information.

The string isn’t about control in the sense of steering.
It’s about connection.

Holding the string means staying oriented to purpose:
Why are we here?
What did you want from this time?

What’s been helpful for me is noticing that the feeling of losing control can come from very different places.

Sometimes it shows up because something alive is emerging—the client is moving somewhere unscripted, and the work is unfolding in real time.

Other times, that same feeling is a signal that I’ve stopped holding the string altogether—that the conversation has drifted into fixing, advising, or simply talking about the problem instead of coaching the whole person.

Those states feel similar in the body, but they’re not the same.

The work isn’t to clamp down or force direction.
It’s to notice: Am I still holding the string?

And if not, to gently pick it back up—
to re-anchor to intention, autonomy, and trust that the client will solve what’s theirs to solve, in their own time.

Coaching, for me, is less about steering and more about being present and aware—aware enough to know when I’m holding the string, and humble enough to reach for it again when I’m not.