We live in a world that idolizes motivation as if it were the key to everything. Just want it badly enough, they say. If you really commit, if you push hard enough, if you never give up, eventually you’ll succeed. And coaching – or rather, a certain kind of coaching – has ended up echoing this Hollywood narrative, where the hero, with broken bones and blood on his lips, keeps fighting and eventually wins. But in real life, if you actually do that, you end up in the hospital. And chances are, you won’t win anything.

The problem isn’t commitment. The problem is the ideology of blind effort, the glorification of “no excuses,” the constant push that drowns out any sense of inner connection. What I call toxic coaching begins here: when the pressure to “do more” suffocates the ability to feel. When the urgency to outdo yourself erases the possibility of knowing yourself. When the coach becomes a general, and the coachee a soldier.

Originally, coaching was meant to be something else. A space for listening, exploration, subtle guidance. A place where those being accompanied could reconnect with themselves – not be pushed away from themselves.

There are phrases that sound motivational, but actually do damage: “There are no limits,” “If you want it, you can,” “If you’re not succeeding, it’s because you’re not working hard enough.” These statements ignore the human and emotional context of the person in front of you. They reduce everything to willpower, discipline, brute force. And they quietly generate guilt, frustration, and burnout. Because if I can’t succeed, it must be my fault. Because if I’m tired, unmotivated, confused, it means I’m weak.

But that’s not true. In fact, fatigue is sometimes a healthy signal. Lack of motivation is a useful symptom. The inability to push may actually be the beginning of a real breakthrough.

If you need to “motivate yourself” every single day to pursue a goal, maybe that goal doesn’t really matter to you. Or maybe it matters for the wrong reasons: fear, comparison, the need for approval. A true goal – one that comes from within – doesn’t need to be forced. It needs to be nurtured. And a good coach knows that.

This doesn’t mean justifying excuses or embracing laziness. Commitment is essential. Resilience is powerful. But they must be rooted in genuine connection, not ideology. Common sense, emotional intelligence, the capacity to adapt — these are far more powerful than we usually think. And often, in the long run, they’re what truly make the difference.

A good coach doesn’t push you harder at all costs. They help you understand when to push, and when to stop, to reorient, to create space. They challenge you, yes — but without forcing. They walk with you, but don’t drag you. They listen, without letting you drown in self-justification.

Real coaching is an art of balance. It’s not about pushing or stopping, winning or losing. It’s about being fully present in your own process, and learning to distinguish the voice that sabotages… from the one that protects. The fatigue that slows you down… from the one that saves you.

In the end, the goal isn’t to do more. It’s to be more. And that often takes less effort… and much more truth.