The wrong question
Most discussions of this topic compare professions. Therapy is for the past, coaching is for the future. Therapy treats pathology, coaching maximises potential. Those distinctions are tidy, memorable, and wrong often enough to be dangerous.
Plenty of therapy is future-focused. Plenty of coaching drifts into the past. The useful question is not “which profession is this?” but “what does this person need in order to move, and am I the right instrument for it?”
Four tests you can run in the room
Test 1 — Is the goal a state or a symptom?
“I want to be less reactive with my team” is a state you can coach. “I cannot sleep, I have stopped eating, and I feel nothing” is a symptom cluster that needs assessment. The first is a goal. The second is a presentation.
Test 2 — Does the problem respond to structure or to history?
If the difficulty is a missing skill, a decision, a system or a habit, coaching has leverage. If the same pattern repeats across every relationship and every decade regardless of circumstance, you are looking at a relational template — and that is clinical work.
Test 3 — Is there risk?
Any indication of suicidal thinking, self-harm, active abuse, disordered eating or psychosis ends the coaching question. This is not a judgement call. It is a stop.
Test 4 — Whose agenda is this?
If the client cannot articulate a goal that is theirs, and the work is being driven by an employer, a parent or a partner, you are in a consent problem before you are in a clinical one. Fix that first.
The overlap is real
Good coaching and good therapy share a great deal: a working alliance, careful listening, honest reflection, a container with boundaries. That overlap is why the line is hard to see from inside the room.
The difference is not warmth or depth. It is contract. A clinical contract includes assessment, formulation, risk management and a duty of care defined by a professional body. A coaching contract includes goals, accountability and a defined scope. When you start doing the first without the second, you are practising uninsured.
The moment you notice you have crossed
It happens gradually. One session you are exploring a pattern; six sessions later you are the only person they talk to, the material is childhood, and you have not discussed why.
Four signs that you have crossed without deciding to:
- You are the sole source of emotional support.
- Sessions have no goal, only a feeling of relief.
- You are holding information that would worry a clinician.
- You are avoiding a topic because you do not know what to do with it.
None of these make you a bad practitioner. All of them require you to act.
How to repair it without abandoning them
The repair is a conversation, not a termination. Name what you have noticed, affirm the value of the work, and propose a change of arrangement.
“I want to be straight with you. What we have been working on has moved into territory I am not trained to hold, and I do not want to keep going as though I am. I would like to help you find someone properly qualified, and I would like to stay in your corner while that happens.”
Then do three things: give two or three real referrals with names and contact details, offer a bridging session or two if appropriate, and follow up once. Referral without follow-up is a hand-off, not care.
Write your own scope statement
A defensible practice has a written scope. Not a legal document — a paragraph you can say out loud.
It should state who you work with, what outcomes you support, what you do not treat, how you handle risk, who your referral partners are, and how you get supervision. If you cannot write it in ten minutes, you do not yet have one.
This is one lecture in a six-track curriculum.
Live teaching, case clinics and supervision with Asian practitioners who still carry a caseload.