This post is the second in a six-part series exploring the invisible barriers that keep people from seeking coaching. From cultural resistance and self-doubt to confusion and cost, we’ll explore what stops people from getting support and how that can shift.

With September approaching, we’re reminded that "R U OK?" Day is near, a prompt to pause and genuinely check in on the people around us. Not just in passing “Are you ok?” “Yeah mate, I’m good.” but to actually sit down, make space, and have a real conversation. To notice when someone’s not quite themselves. To say something. To listen.

It’s a valuable initiative, but I’ll admit I have mixed feelings about it. Over the years, I’ve seen how good ideas can become token gestures. When something becomes too familiar, it risks becoming automated, stripped of meaning. Like the Aussie saying, “How you going?” met with a reflexive “Yeah good, mate.” No thought, no pause, just social autopilot.

Mental health check-ins shouldn't be seasonal, they should be part of the fabric of how we work and live together but here's the thing: even when the question is asked with genuine care, people often don't know how to answer or worse, they don't even realise they're not okay.

There’s a popular Cantonese saying: "鬼叫你窮, 頂硬上啊" roughly translated, “You’re poor? Suck it up and keep going.” Similar to the Australian saying, “Harden up, buttercup.” On the surface these are just cultural quips, but underneath, they reflect something deeper a pride in pushing through, a mistrust of vulnerability, a belief that stopping to ask for help is indulgent, or a sense of failure.

This is where coaching comes in. A core part of the work I do is to interrupt that downward spiral before the proverbial poop hits the fan. Coaching is a space where people can think aloud, test out ideas, and reframe problems. If you’re struggling doing things one way, maybe it’s time to try another. But inside our own heads, it can be silent and lonely. We default to what we know. And what we know it isn’t always helping us.

A couple of years ago, I was working with a client on work/life balance issue; she was describing her internal dialogue and saying she’d been reflecting a lot on her choices. I paused and gently stated, “That sounds more like self-blame than self-reflection.” She froze. It was the first time she’d noticed that what she called ‘reflection’ was actually self-recrimination. That small shift in awareness changed how she approached everything from that point forward. And here's what we often miss: those insights don’t just stay private. When someone sees themselves differently, they show up differently—for their team, their colleagues, even their family. I’ve had clients tell me that after a single shift in how they manage stress or communicate, the tone of their team meetings changed. One manager said, “I didn’t just get better at handling pressure, I also got better at not passing it on.”

That’s the ripple effect, coaching starts as a personal conversation but its impact rarely stops there. Most people already think coaching (or worse, therapy) isn’t for them. “I'm fine! I’ll push through,” they say. Now imagine growing up in a culture where your worth is tied to your role in the group; as a son, a daughter, a provider, a leader. If you're not coping, you don't just feel bad, you feel like you're letting the whole system down. So you double down. Work harder. Keep quiet. Because asking for help? That’s not just uncomfortable. It’s shameful. It says you’ve failed not just yourself, but everyone who's counting on you.

Research also shows that these cultural expectations aren’t static. In Japan, for example, studies found signs of rising individualism such as unique baby names and smaller households, yet filial piety and obligations to family remain strong. A broader review in Advances in Psychological Science found that while individualism has increased in many countries, collectivist values often persist in parallel. The result is more of a cultural grey zone — not fully collective, not fully individual — and that ambiguity shows up in coaching sessions all the time. Clients no longer feel bound entirely to the group, but they aren’t yet confident in standing fully on their own. The tension often lands in the room as an unspoken question: “Should I be looking to you for the answer, or should I be brave enough to find my own?”

That rejection of help isn’t just pride, it’s cultural conditioning (I know, I’ve lived it) and I’ve seen it again and again when I bring up coaching with potential clients. There’s that same flash of discomfort, quickly masked by humour or deflection. The idea that talking to someone, even about goals or direction, implies weakness or some kind of admission that they can’t handle life on their own.

One person actually said, “I don’t need coaching. I’m not that lost.” As if coaching was some sort of rescue mission rather than a space for recalibration, or even clarity, and in that moment, I recognised the familiar script: push through, hold the line, don’t show the cracks. For some, coaching is the way forward. For others, therapy may be the better fit. Especially when deeper emotional work or clinical expertise is needed, coaching helps clarify direction whereas therapy can address unresolved past experiences or complex psychological patterns. Both offer support, but they do so in different ways, depending on what a person needs.

As a coach, it’s also my responsibility to know where those boundaries lie. Coaching is not therapy and it shouldn't try to be, if someone’s challenges are beyond the scope of what coaching can ethically and safely support, referring them to a qualified psychologist isn’t just the right thing to do, it’s essential. That professional line isn’t blurry; it’s a safeguard for both client and coach.

What often gets missed in this conversation, though, is that coaching doesn’t just benefit individuals, it ripples outward. When someone gains clarity, finds better balance, or becomes more intentional in how they lead, it impacts those around them - their team, their workplace, even their family. I’ve seen clients make one small shift that completely changes the tone of their 1:1s or brings new energy into how they show up for others, those aren’t just feel-good moments: they’re strategic outcomes.

And coaching isn’t the only form of support. There’s a whole spectrum: managers, mentors, HR, peer support, counselling, EAP services. Coaching sits in that ecosystem, but it doesn’t compete, it complements. It’s a thinking space, it helps people make meaning of their roles in the scheme of things, their choices, their leadership or even their relationship. Sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed to shift from surviving to thriving.

But what if, instead of asking “Are you OK?”, someone had said:

“How can I support you today?” Or even, “What’s your week been like?”

I'm hoping that will interrupt the script enough to open something real, because thriving doesn’t begin at the edge of crisis. It begins when someone makes room for you to think and that's what coaching offers, every time.