For a very long time, I thought supporting people meant being there for them, understanding them, helping them and, whenever I could, trying to solve things for them.
I was often the person people turned to for advice and answers.
“You read so much. What do you think?”
“Can you explain this to me?”
“Why do you think this is happening?”
I suppose I became comfortable in that role. Perhaps it was because I read a lot, or because I found it relatively easy to turn what I learned into something practical. Perhaps it was simply because people knew they could come to me.
For years, I believed that being supportive meant being available. And I still believe that, if we want to support others, we need to make ourselves available. But I also learned that being available does not mean being available all the time, or without limits. Support also requires boundaries. And this took me a very long time to understand.
One of the experiences that taught me this involved a friend I had known for many years. We had lost touch, but over time I rebuilt the connection and regained her trust. As I began to understand more about her childhood and the experiences that had shaped her, I wanted to be there for her.
For a while, I tolerated almost everything. I explained away her extreme reactions because I understood where they came from.
But eventually, my tolerance became our normal.
She began speaking to me harshly, scolding me and treating me almost as though I were her subordinate.
That was when something shifted in me. I realised that understanding someone's story does not mean accepting behaviours that hurt you.
I could have compassion for what she had experienced and still decide that I did not want to be treated that way. So I began to step back. And stepping back did not mean that I stopped caring.
It meant that I was beginning to care about myself, too.
The garden needs a fence
That was not an isolated event. Someone I have loved deeply for almost twenty years once told me:
“You have very few boundaries, but you are someone worth discovering.”
At the time, I didn't understand what he meant.
I do now.
I began to understand that each of us needs a protected space in our lives: a space where our identity, values, likes and dislikes can exist safely. And that space needs a door.
People who want to enter need to knock. They need to ask for permission. And ultimately, we decide whether to let them in.
Looking back, I realised that my garden had no fence. Everyone could walk in. They trampled on the grass. They picked my flowers and threw them away.
And every time my flowers were destroyed and I was hurt, I tried to push people out of a garden that had no boundaries.
Eventually, I understood that the first step was knowing my own values. Knowing what I love and what I don't. Knowing what I stand for. Knowing what I will accept and what I won't.
And then deciding who I want to invite into my garden.
Not everyone gets a key. And that isn't cruelty.
That is self-respect.
When we begin to understand our own worth and draw clearer boundaries around ourselves, something changes. We stop trying so hard to please everyone. Some people may naturally fall away.
And we begin to create space for relationships with people who respect themselves and, therefore, know how to respect us too.
This changed the way I understood what it means to support another person.
You cannot walk someone else's path
For a long time, I thought supporting someone meant finding the answers for them.
Now, I see it differently.
We cannot do someone else's inner work for them.
We can listen. We can ask questions. We can share something we have learned from our own experience. We can hold space while someone tries to make sense of their own story. But we cannot walk the path for them.
This is one of the most important lessons I have carried into my work as a coach and as a mentor.
You cannot support someone who doesn't want to be supported.
There is a difference between extending a hand to someone who asks for it and repeatedly reaching out to someone who has not asked you to help them.
Sometimes we want to save people because we can see something they cannot yet see.
Sometimes we understand their story so well that we feel responsible for helping them change it.
But their life is still theirs. Their choices are theirs. Their journey is theirs. And respecting that is also a form of love. In fact, it is the highest form of love.
For me, mentoring grew from this understanding.
Mentoring is not about becoming someone else's light.
It is not about saying, “Go this way. Do what I did.”
It is about saying:
“Something like this happened in my life. This is how I responded. What might this mean for you? What do you see in your own story?”
Mentoring is sharing the paths we have walked so that someone else can see their own path more clearly.
Not walking it for them. Not carrying them. Not becoming their light.
But helping them discover their own.
Why Women in Sight matters to me
This is also why Women in Sight feels so meaningful to me. At Women in Sight, we are not here to tell women how to live their lives. We create space for women to pause, look inward, ask themselves honest questions and discover what is true for them.”
My own journey into coaching and mentoring grew from a deeper process of learning about myself, questioning the ways I had always shown up for others, and discovering that supporting someone does not mean taking responsibility for their life.
When I became involved with Women in Sight, I found a community where this understanding could become something we practise together.
Women supporting women does not have to mean rescuing one another.
It does not mean having all the answers.
It does not mean telling another woman what she should do.
Sometimes it simply means sitting beside her and saying:
“I see you. I hear you. You don't have to walk this part of the journey alone.”
And sometimes support means asking a question instead of giving an answer.
Sometimes it means sharing what we have learned without expecting another woman to follow the same path.
Sometimes it means knowing when to step forward and when to step back.
This is particularly important when we think about the young women and girls who are beginning to discover who they are.
What they need is not always someone to tell them which way to go.
Sometimes they need someone to walk beside them for a while, believe in them, ask thoughtful questions and remind them that they are capable of finding their own way.
That, to me, is the heart of mentoring.
Making more space for one another
Perhaps the most beautiful thing about community is that we don't have to live each other's lives in order to support one another.
We can have our own gardens. Our own values. Our own boundaries. Our own paths. And still make room for one another.
We don't have to compete for space.
We can make more space.
We can listen without taking over. We can support without rescuing. We can guide without directing. We can love without losing ourselves.
And we can stand beside another woman without trying to become her light.
Because perhaps real support is not about having all the answers.
Perhaps it is about creating enough safety, respect and space for someone to discover that they have all of the answers within themselves.
That is the kind of community I believe in.
And that is why I am proud to be part of Women in Sight.
A community where women support one another without trying to live each other's lives.
Where we learn from one another, make space for one another, and help one another grow.
And there is always room for another woman in the garden.
EMCC Mentor Practitioner