Somewhere over the Middle East, mid-air on my long-haul flight to London, I found myself seated next to a bright-eyed, expectant mother. She was radiant, brimming with excitement, and as we exchanged pleasantries, I extended a small gesture of kindness—offering to help with her bag, checking if she was comfortable although I could see her partner paying adorable attention to her.
Casually, I asked, “Have your first-trimester symptoms settled?”
She turned to me with a wide smile. “Oh, I never had any! I have been absolutely fit throughout. I don’t understand why women complain so much.”
Her confidence was admirable. Yet, in that moment, a familiar pang rose in me—one I had buried under layers of time and resilience. Because my pregnancy had been nothing like hers. It had been high-risk, complicated, riddled with hospital visits and anxious nights. And despite bringing a beautiful life into this world, the feeling that lingered was one I had never quite shaken off: I wasn’t good enough.
It’s strange, isn’t it? The way women carry this invisible weight of expectations. As if pregnancy is not just about bringing life into the world, but about proving our worth in the process. If you breeze through it, you are strong. If you struggle, you are weak. If you do not have a natural birth, you did not try hard enough. If you can not breastfeed, you did not love enough. The silent judgments stack up, whispered in hospital corridors, lurking in well-meaning advice, tightening around us like a noose.
And it is not just pregnancy. This notion of “good enough” trails us everywhere. The perfect career woman. The selfless mother. The ever-giving daughter. The graceful aging woman who “lets herself go” but not too much. We live in a world that constantly moves the goalpost, making sure we never quite arrive.
Somewhere over the Atlantic, as the cabin lights dimmed and the world outside turned a shade of midnight blue, I looked at the woman beside me. She had no idea of the battle she had stirred in me. And perhaps, one day, she too would face a moment that made her question her worth. Because the truth is, no woman—no person—is immune to it.
But maybe, just maybe, we can begin to rewrite the narrative. Maybe the real strength lies in acknowledging our struggles without shame, in embracing the imperfections that make us human. Maybe being “good enough” isn’t about meeting impossible standards, but about knowing, deep down, that we always were. And most importantly, it’s about being brave enough to ask for help when we need it—because seeking support is not weakness, it is survival. It is how we remind ourselves, and each other, that we do not have to carry the weight of “good enough” alone.
This is where Coaching steps in. Not as a solution to “fix” us, but as a space where we can safely explore our doubts, reframe our beliefs, and find our own definition of “enough.” Coaching isn’t about pushing someone toward a rigid ideal—it’s about helping them unlearn the unrealistic expectations they’ve carried for too long. It’s about asking the right questions, holding up a mirror, and guiding them toward a mindset where they can thrive on their own terms.
Whether it’s a leader battling imposter syndrome, a mother questioning her choices, or an entrepreneur wondering if they have what it takes, Coaching helps peel away the layers of self-doubt and external pressure. It reminds us that strength is not about never struggling—it is about how we rise despite it.
Because in the end, the real question isn’t, Am I good enough? It’s, Who gets to decide? And maybe, just maybe, that answer should only ever belong to us.