I Can, I Want, I Am

I've been noticing something in my coaching conversations lately.

When someone tells me "I can do X," there's often a subtle heaviness to it. Like they're taking inventory of their current toolkit, making sure everything's accounted for before they dare move forward. It's practical, it's safe—and it's limiting.

Don't get me wrong: "I can" isn't bad. We need to know our capabilities. But when it becomes the only lens we use to make decisions, something gets lost.

I see this most clearly in how people approach career moves. They build these perfectly logical plans: Can I do React? Check. PostgreSQL? Check. Grind 75? Check. What's missing? Add it to the list. Everything checked? Now apply and hope.

It sounds thorough. It feels responsible. And yet, there's something deeply passive about it—like waiting to accumulate enough checkboxes before you're allowed to want something.

The shift

The actual shift happens when we move from "can" to "want"

I've started paying attention to when someone's language shifts from "I can" to "I want." It's often the moment when the conversation goes from incremental planning to something more alive.

A client might come in saying: "I need to network more."

The "I can" approach would be: "Great, let's make a networking plan. LinkedIn outreach, coffee chats, industry events..."

But what I'm learning to ask instead is: "What kind of presence do you want to have in your organization?" That question opens something different. Suddenly we're not just building a better version of what they already know how to do—we're uncovering who they want to become.

From there:

• How would that person approach relationships?
• What would they do this week that feels natural to them?
• When they do that, what does it tell them about who they are?

The actions might look similar on paper, but they come from a completely different place. By creating a system that consistently produces these bridging actions, we gradually move into 'I am'—the moment they've embodied their new identity.

A confession

I'm writing this as much for myself as anyone else. Learning to coach has meant confronting how often I default to "what I can obviously do" when I'm feeling uncertain about my coaching practice, or just anything else in life. It's seductive, that safe place. Like, I know I can keep polishing my LinkedIn profile, can keep studying coaching frameworks, can keep playing it safe.

The harder question—the one I'm still learning to sit with—is: What do I actually want? Who am I becoming?

That safe, capability-focused place isn't evil. It exists for good reason. But I'm trying to catch myself when I retreat there unconsciously, and ask: Is this where I want to be acting from right now?

Some days I get it right. Many days I don't. I'm sharing this not as someone who's figured it out, but as someone in the middle of it, noticing the pattern and trying to stay awake to it.