About Dunja

Why I Became a Guide

I never set out to become a coach. In fact, for most of my life, helping people had nothing to do with coaching at all.

I spent more than 13 years as a firefighter with the London Fire Brigade. When someone called us, they were often experiencing one of the worst moments of their life. My job was to walk into that situation, stay calm, understand what was really happening and help find a way forward. There wasn't always time for perfect answers. You learned to listen, observe, trust your judgement and deal with the person in front of you. Looking back, I think that shaped me far more than I realised.

But my own life hasn't followed a straight line either. I've lived in different countries, worked in technology, built businesses, created start-ups, experienced success and disappointment, and taken risks that didn't always work out the way I expected. I've also experienced profound personal loss. After my brother was murdered in 2014, life changed for my family in ways that are difficult to explain unless you've experienced something that divides your life into a before and an after.

Years later, I eventually left the fire brigade — a career I genuinely loved and an identity that had been a huge part of who I was. And once again I had to ask myself: Who am I now?

Since then, I've rebuilt my life more than once. I've started businesses. I've struggled with businesses. I've worried about money. I've questioned my decisions. I've watched relationships and friendships change. I've had moments when I've felt incredibly strong and others when I've had absolutely no idea what I was doing next.

I'm not telling you this because I believe hardship automatically makes somebody wise. It doesn't. I'm telling you because somewhere along the way, something interesting kept happening. People started talking to me.

Friends, colleagues, business owners and sometimes people I barely knew would tell me what was really going on in their lives. And I would listen. Not politely listen while preparing my answer. Really listen. I noticed that I was often able to see something in their situation that they couldn't see themselves. I would ask a question, challenge an assumption or offer a completely different way of looking at something. Sometimes, weeks or months later, someone would tell me: “That conversation changed something for me.”

For a long time, I didn't think much of it. It was simply what I did. Then I began to realise that the same thing had been happening throughout my life. Whether I was standing beside somebody during an emergency, helping a friend through a difficult relationship, talking to someone who had lost their confidence, or sitting across the table from an entrepreneur who couldn't see their next move, my instinct was the same: Don't tell them who they should become. Help them see what they already know.

That is why I decided to become a guide.

I don't have all the answers. And I don't pretend to.

I'm not a psychologist or therapist, and I'm not interested in presenting myself as somebody who has created the perfect life and can now teach everybody else how to do the same. My life is still evolving too. Perhaps that's important.

Because I know what it's like to stand at a crossroads. I know what it's like when the identity you've built no longer fits. I know what it's like to start again. I know what it's like to appear strong while privately wondering what on earth you're going to do next.

And I've learned that sometimes the person sitting in that uncertainty doesn't need another person telling them what to do. They need someone willing to sit beside them long enough to help them see clearly. Someone who will listen without judgement. Someone who isn't frightened by difficult conversations. Someone who will challenge them when they're hiding from themselves. Someone who can say, “Okay. This is where you are. Now, where do you actually want to go?”

That's the work I want to do.

I don't want to create followers. I want the people I work with to need me less, not more. Because ultimately, my role isn't to give you my answers. It's to help you trust yourself enough to find yours.

I've spent much of my life helping people through emergencies. Today, the emergencies may look different — but my purpose hasn't changed very much. I help people find their way forward.

— Dunja