The only life coaches I’d hire are long dead or too busy

I’ve never considered hiring a life coach, but if I did, they wouldn’t be hard to find. It seems you can’t swing a cat without hitting one these days. They’re everywhere, jacked up on positivity and self-love, pimping out their programs. Friends and acquaintances pop out of the woodwork to ask if I’m realising my dreams or want to be part of an “inspiring program” before they even type the words “life coach”.

There’s something evangelical about it, which I have the radar for after being raised in the megachurch. You can sniff a preacher a mile off.

The dream team of life coaches: Julia Gillard, Baz Luhrmann and Jane Austen.Credit: Getty Images

While I’m sure there are many who can help you to a) purge “toxic” relationships (see also, “emotional labour”) or b) create a purposefully action-oriented mindset (such as flossing your teeth more often) or c) understand why you think that swinging cats was ever an appropriate pastime. It’s become apparent in recent times that the life-coaching industry is an unregulated minefield of people coming up with creative names but who basically do the same thing with questionable results.

There are “empowerment coaches”, “success coaches”, “mindset coaches” and the incredibly optimistic “life-transformation specialists”, among others, which raises the question, if you need to give it a jazzy name, is it really useful? If I have a problem with my tooth, I don’t want an “incisor whisperer” or a “mouth strategist”; I want a dentist.

If I did suddenly decide to activate my potential (which I try to keep dormant so I don’t wreck it), of all the people I would actually want to be my life coach, most are too busy or too deceased. Let’s take Baz Luhrmann, a brilliant director with a high creative output. I would love for him to mentor me in the art of “coming up with new ideas”, but you know what? He’s too busy coming up with the next Oscar-winning film.

Or how about a bit of Julia “I will not be lectured on sexism and misogyny by this man” Gillard badassery? She might coach me on “how to slay in a room full of men”, but, oh, she’s busy slaying. Or a masterclass by comedian Carl Barron in “learning to find humour in everything”, but have you seen his tour schedule!? He’d be more likely to “help you stay sane on never-ending tours to regional locations” if he wasn’t constantly on never-ending tours to regional locations.

Then there’s Jane Austen, whom I’d love to sit down with, have a good old cuppa, and be coached in the fine art of creating subversive feminist literature while being hemmed into the roles of wife and mother. Although she has long gone to join the choir invisible, if she were here, I’d imagine she’d be too busy pumping out subversive feminist literature (with the occasional Mr Darcy-esque dreamboat) while mumming in her activewear.

Maybe it’s the whole “if you can’t do, teach” conundrum. Are there really people out there whose sole gift is to coach others into living out their dreams? Is that actually their dream – to selflessly propel others into their best lives? Or is their best life being a “mindset strategist” with a stack of followers on Instagram and heavily curated selfies with inspirational quotes about self-love?

The hustle culture of life-coaching is a turn-off: the metric by which we choose whom to listen to is not age or wisdom but the ability to market oneself on social media and to friends and family.

Looking for guidance is a human impulse. We turn to God (or gods), star signs, yoga instructors, specialists, or talk the ear off a mate to cut a path through life’s ups and downs. I may be cynical about life coaches, but I wonder if what we really need is just someone to talk to. Society is so fragmented that it’s easier to turn to self-love soundbites on Instagram than to a supportive community of real-life people who may have already made their own path through similar terrains as your own.

My dream dinner party guest list may remain just that: a dream. But I would be more influenced by the words of those I’d want to follow than those of someone who was trained to say the right thing or even be a decent sounding board. Doesn’t pop psychology advocate that “the answer is within you” anyway? If that’s true, I’d better keep digging to find the button that activates my purposefully action-oriented mindset so I floss my teeth more often and stop swinging cats.

Cherie Gilmour is a freelance writer.