Writing about writing

People write to me, after reading my coaching website, and confess to me that they cannot afford a coach, but they ask me questions anyway, in the hope that I’ll reply. And sometimes I do, briefly. But I can never give them much, because I am stretched so thin. These questions, over the years, have become very familiar. It’s the same ones, asked in slightly different ways, year after year.

I wonder sometimes, if I could somehow answer these questions – maybe a blog on my website? These are not easy questions; they are not yes and no questions, they are not “FAQ’s About Coaching”, which I already have on my website. The FAQ’s are basics like “how much does it cost?”, and “how does it work over the phone?”

These other questions that they email me…these are the hard questions in life. “Can I be successful with Asperger’s?”, “Can I be happy?” “Why do people get mad when I least expect it?” “Will I ever have a long-term relationship?” “Why are my coworkers passing me by?” “Why won’t people listen when I talk? Is it my fault or is it theirs?” “Can you fix this?” “Can I fix this?” “Is reading self-help books really going to help anything?” “Why doesn’t anybody understand me?”

So I wonder, maybe, maybe I should write back to them, all of them at once, all of them out there – those who write to me and those who don’t bother. Maybe I should address those questions I hear over and over, those questions that don’t really have an answer.

It’s a daunting challenge. Yes, I write this blog and I enjoy it, but only about 5 of you read it, and you all know me and already have your opinions about my foibles, and I get to write whatever the heck I feel like at any given moment.

My website gets a lot of hits. It’s a lot of strangers out there. I’d feel like I would need to not say the wrong thing somehow, and those aren’t easy questions they’re asking me. Those questions don’t have “right” answers.