The Rocking Chair

The Rocking Chair Exercise is an effective tool used in coaching to allow people to look into their future and express what they want to have achieved. It involves closing your eyes and picturing yourself somewhere you feel happy and safe, a special place for you. You are 80+ years old, and you’re talking to someone important in your life. The client is then invited to think about what it is they would want to tell this person, what it is they’re most proud of, and what they have achieved in their life.

Initially I looked at this exercise and thought “Come on, I can’t picture what I’ll look like in a dress that I’m looking at in my wardrobe, never mind what I’ll look like and feel at eighty odd years old. This exercise will never work for me.”

And then I was taken through the exercise by a trainer in a teaching session and my God I cried my eyes out. Whether this was hormones, exhaustion, or the genuine power of the exercise, I don’t know, but I’ve done it again myself, and it really does stir up some emotions. Let me set the scene…

Yes, I’m 87 years old, a good 50 years from now, and I’m on the beach, sitting on the shore with bare feet. I can feel the water lapping at my toes and the slightly cool and damp sand under my body. It’s early evening, a slight breeze in the air, and the sky is a beautiful rainbow of oranges, yellows, purples, and reds.

Next to me is my son, my youngest, who by now is 51 years old. I don’t see him as 51 in my imagination, I just know he’s there, and it’s him I’m talking to.

“What are you most proud of in your life, Mum?”

Even writing that question down fills me with emotion, and I think it’s because I’m already proud. So proud of my kids, and in 50 years time I know I’ll be proud of everything they’ve become.

To my (current) five year old: despite the exhausting 100 mile an hour lifestyle you lead, you are the most empathetic, affectionate, and fiercely righteous young man, and I know that whether you become a Daddy, a teacher, or a builder (some of your current career aspirations), you will always hold your family close to your heart, you will protect your brother, and you will stand up for what is right.

And my youngest son: you are so in awe of your big brother, and the love you show for him is beyond anything I had ever imagined when you arrived. You are affectionate, hilarious, cheeky, and my goodness you love food, sleep, and a bit of drama. You will achieve great things and I know you’ll do it your way, on your terms. Nothing will stop you.

So my kids, they’re what I’m proud of, but they’re not the only things.

In my life I’m proud of the people I’ve helped, the support I’ve offered to strangers in their times of need. I am proud to be a nurse, and although the clinical side of nursing hasn’t been in my life for a little while, I still use so many of the skills I learnt in my 10 years as a women’s health nurse. Through setting up a coaching practice to support individuals and couples after the loss of pregnancy, child, or parenthood, and a charity to support individuals whose first language isn’t English navigate pregnancy loss in the UK, I will have changed the lives of many people, even in a small way, but for the better.

I’m also proud of where we’ve been, the places we’ve seen, the countries we’ve travelled to, and the experiences we’ve had. As a child I was so lucky to go on holiday every year, we spent a lot of time camping/caravanning in Europe, but also took holidays further afield to Florida, Kenya, Nepal. My parents gave my brother and I such insight into different cultures and really instilled a sense of community in us, always encouraging us to help others, volunteer and support those less fortunate. At 87 years old, I have done the same for my kids. It won’t necessarily be in the same way, but they will have that awareness and positivity about difference, diversity, and the value in immersing yourself in cultures different to your own.

I will of course also, finally, be fluent in more than just English. I genuinely thought I’d be speaking Portuguese like a pro now, having been here for six months and because I was pretty good at it 10 years ago, but no. It’s really difficult. But, give me 50 years and I’ll be fluent. And in French. And with any luck so will the kids and my husband.

Speaking of my husband, I’ll also be proud of my marriage: by then we’ll have been married for 57 years. If you still have a ponytail aged 87 I’m not sure how I’ll feel, but I know we’ll have made it through thick and thin. We’ve already negotiated two international moves, months apart because of visas and fieldwork, the trauma of our firstborn’s birth, navigating countless health issues in Germany, and of course, the general day to day life of being adults. We’ll have finally bought a house, maybe we’ll even own that campsite we’ve always talked about, but most of all we’ll still be together, and you’ll still make me laugh every day, whether I want to or not.

My kids, my marriage, my work helping others, and the experiences we’ve had as a family.

What did this exercise tell me?

It opened my eyes (while they were closed), to the things that I really hold dear. I now have a clearer idea of the things I want to achieve. How I get there, I’m not so sure, but I’ve got 50 years, right?! I know that my priorities are in slightly different places to where I thought they were, and that ultimately, when I look back on my life, I want to tell people that I helped, I gave opportunity, I took every opportunity I could, and I worked bloody hard.

I’ll get there, and I’ll be so content when I do, but for now, I’ll enjoy the moment, what I have with my family and my work, and I’ll look to the future with positivity and clarity, one step at a time.