During a recent discussion with friends we agreed that given a large enough wallet, we’d hire someone to hold us accountable. Someone who ensures we follow through on our goals, nudges us toward becoming better, and pushes us to explore the boundaries of life. Now, I don’t know the meaning of life, and therefore I don’t know how to say one lived life is better than another. But I do know this: for me, it’s at the boundaries of life, where comfort fades and uncertainty begins, that it feels most alive. An accountability coach would have helped me get closer to that edge.
Thinking about how having a coach would be a tremendous luxury and privilege, coupled with reflections on what it means to be a good parent, I’ve realized that the role—or mindset—of being an accountability coach is one I deeply aspire to provide to my children. It’s not the only role, of course, but it’s an important one. To be someone who helps their kids reach beyond themselves, ensuring they don’t stagnate or drift through life.
Perhaps this idea resonates deeply with me because I’ve felt the absence of it in my own life. My parents had expectations of me, certainly, and I consider myself lucky in that I had direction in life from an early age, knowing that I wanted to manipulate pixels on a screen. But at some point—and perhaps it was too early—they trusted my judgment too much. I yearn for that additional push, that guidance which might have helped me reach even further.
Perhaps, too, this idea resonates because I so frequently see young people left alone to figure out what they want—aimlessly searching, often drifting into fields of study or work that are so fleeting or contemporary that they’re left vulnerable. These fields often lack a strong foundational base, leaving them at risk of irrelevance within a few years and potentially leading to deep unhappiness. Without deeper roots to build upon, they find themselves unprepared to adapt when the world moves on. Instead of building their lives, they’re caught staring at a small glass pane aspiring to be someone or do something but rarely breaking through to action. The endless scroll of curated lives and fleeting trends traps them in passivity. Without someone to challenge and guide them, they’re at risk of settling for something just because it’s there. It’s not just stagnation; it’s a loss of opportunity, a life that could have been larger, more fulfilling.
The challenge, though, will be to not let my own goals or biases get in the way. It will be easy to project my own aspirations onto them. Instead, I need to understand where they want to go, what interests them, and what potential lies dormant in them, waiting to be cultivated. My job is to see that potential and build on it—not to steer them in the direction I’d choose, but to guide them toward their own path.
There will be moments when it’s unclear whether to step in or step back, when I’ll wonder whether I’m pushing too hard or not enough. But I think the key is to care deeply and stay present. Just being there and investing in their growth is half the battle. The other half is learning to be the kind of accountability coach who helps them move toward their boundaries, while respecting their independence.
I don’t have a perfect blueprint for how to do this. I guess no one does. But I suspect that if I can strike the right balance, my kids will find their way. And if nothing else, Ralph (2 yr) and Ebba (2 mo) will know I cared enough to try.