We can go through it together.

You said that a strong person doesn't submit to fate, accepts it as it comes… and there I sense a tension between acceptance and resignation, so let me ask: where, in your view, does self-love end – and self-pity disguised as "working on yourself" begin?

This is a very difficult question for me, because self-love is something I have had to learn – and I am still learning it.

In my view, it ends where I begin to harm myself through constant self-criticism: when I endlessly dissect the past, dwell in detail on what I believe I did wrong, and break life down into isolated moments in a way that only deepens my sense of inadequacy. When I start comparing myself to others and asking why they seem to be doing better than I am.

Self-pity then attaches itself to this inner narrative. And from there comes the pressure to “fix” oneself – as if the self were something fundamentally broken.

You've touched on something remarkably precise here. You've described the moment when what was originally a healthy interest in oneself becomes an endless project of self-repair. And that is an enormous topic today. Because part of what passes for personal development no longer leads people towards life – it leads them towards permanent self-reflection. Constant monitoring of emotions, triggers, traumas, relational patterns, personal inadequacy. As though a person can never be "finished" enough to simply live. And then comes the demand to fix oneself. The feeling that a person is not a being meant to live a life, but an endless optimisation project. Do you think that people today sometimes use personal development as an elegant way of avoiding real life?

I think there are people who become so absorbed in personal development that it turns into a way of trying to “fix” themselves in order to match an imagined ideal of how they should be. In doing so, they can slowly lose contact with life itself.

It can become a state of constant self-observation – focusing on emotions, triggers, past experiences, relational patterns, or perceived shortcomings – without ever really landing in the present moment. And when that happens, life stops being lived and starts being analysed.

In that space, a coach or mentor can easily be seen as someone who is supposed to “fix” what feels broken, and the relationship becomes dependent on that expectation.

That is also why I prefer the word guide. My ambition is not to dwell in the past or in present-day difficulties. My ambition is to accompany a person through whatever they are facing – including moments that are not negative at all, but emotionally complex, full of uncertainty, inner movement, and decisions that need to be made – until they reach a place where they feel genuinely well again.

 I think people often believe they only need help when they're in pain. Yet enormous uncertainty also arrives with success, a healthy relationship, parenthood, the moment things finally start to go well. Some people are paradoxically destabilised by happiness itself, because they are inwardly unaccustomed to it. So: has it ever happened that you said to a client, inwardly or aloud: "You don't actually want change. You want your story to stay yours?"

Yes, it has. And not only inwardly – I have said it out loud. Because that moment itself can be an important point of awareness.

But I would not frame it as: “You want your story to remain true.” Rather: “You want it to remain yours.”

Because you're suddenly talking not just about pain. You're talking about identity. About how a person sometimes holds on to a familiar suffering rather than entering a space where they won't know who they are. And do you know what's most interesting? You didn't say it cruelly. Almost sadly. Like someone who knows how difficult it is to let go of even one's own suffering when it has become part of one's personality. What is harder for you in your work – when someone refuses to change, or when they finally take a step forward and you are no longer needed?

For me, neither situation is difficult.

As I said before, it is not necessary for a person to constantly seek change or to be in motion all the time.

And when a client takes a step forward, it does not mean I am no longer needed. It simply means that something in their situation has shifted.

When a new client comes to you, what makes it clear to them very quickly that your work won't be conventional "coaching" or endless therapeutic analysis?

First of all, I am not entirely sure what “conventional coaching” or “endless therapeutic analysis” actually means, even though I have experienced both coaching and therapy myself. While I do not claim to know every approach that exists, I would say that these categories are often less clear in practice than they appear in theory.

What I can say is that my work is different in its starting point.

People do not usually arrive with a clear definition of coaching, mentoring, or psychological counselling, nor are they particularly interested in those distinctions. They come with something they are carrying – an experience, a situation, a tension, something that moves them emotionally, something they may not fully understand, something that either holds them back or pushes them forward.

Sometimes it is something that unsettles them. Sometimes it is something that, in a very raw way, excites them. Often it is something they are afraid of.

And at the beginning, I usually ask a simple question: why do you want a guide?

So if I understand correctly, you're not just identifying the problem. You're identifying the motive. Whether the person wants relief, confirmation, change, a witness, courage, understanding – or simply a place where they can finally stop performing. And perhaps for the first time in our conversation I'm beginning to genuinely understand why you use the word "guide." You're not someone who wants to fix a person – you want to be with them in a moment they don't want to carry alone and don't want to burden their closest ones with.

Exactly. I can think of specific clients now – managers who initially came to me as a professional coach and later chose to continue working with me as a guide. The same applies to those I supported as a mentor during periods of organisational change.

With some, I am in contact as often as with close friends; with others, only occasionally. And from time to time, someone calls and says: “I need to work something through with you, Zuzka. Dialogue helps me organise my thoughts – when I hear your reflections, I either resist them or they resonate with me. But I always come to some form of realisation.”

What do you think people are most afraid to say out loud when they sit down with you for the first time?

When people meet me for the first time as corporate clients, they are often hesitant to say that they are not quite sure what to expect. That they were assigned to me by their manager and may not fully agree with the decision. That they do not see how I could help them. Or that they do not feel a need for change, and that they are not unwell.

When people come to me on their own initiative, they are sometimes more hesitant about something else – about articulating how they would actually like things to look once we have worked through their situation together.

Now it immediately occurred to me: what do you do in the moment when a person is sitting across from you with their arms crossed – literally or inwardly – and it's clear they don't actually want to be there?

I do nothing in the sense of forcing anything.

I usually start by talking with them in a very ordinary way and wait until they allow me in a little more – even if only on an energetic level. At that point, I name what I observe and what I sense in the situation. I also express genuine understanding, because I have been in a similar position myself.

My first coach was also assigned to me. I was expected to “adjust” certain aspects of my managerial behaviour – or even my character, my temperament.

You're smiling quite a lot right now?

Forgive me – I was just reminded of a client who didn’t let me in for quite a long time. During our first session, I actually found myself quietly doodling.

I’m smiling about it now, because I can still picture him watching me out of the corner of his eye. And then, being very results-oriented, he eventually couldn’t hold back any longer and asked me how I was experiencing the session. That was the moment the real dialogue began.

We have known each other for eight years now. We have been through emotionally intense situations together, as well as positive ones, and over time a genuine friendship has developed.

Have you ever been in a situation where your ability to name something very precisely hurt a person or caused them to leave?

Yes. Regrettably, yes. Even when I chose what I believed were the gentlest possible words.

How do you tell the difference between confronting someone with a truth and being insensitive or imprecise in how you express it?

Given my previous answer, I am not sure I always can.

With clients, I rely on intuition and empathy. I genuinely like people, and I enjoy being with them – even though, like in any human relationship, there have been moments that were difficult.

I make a very conscious effort not to cause harm. That is not my intention, and it is not the path I have chosen. I do not respond in kind when something feels difficult or tense.

I try to choose words that are careful, precise, and respectful – words that would not hurt even the most sensitive person in the room.

Do you sometimes think that precisely because you don't want to cause harm, you might occasionally say certain things more gently than the person actually needed to hear?

Of course. But I work with people who can tell me quite directly, and kindly: “Don’t spare me.”

And I think that even when I try, I am fairly readable anyway. (laughs) The finest practitioner of that particular discipline is my beloved husband.

You speak about your husband with such warmth in your eyes. So my next question will be very personal: what has life taught you about love that you would have said was nonsense at thirty?

Because I value my husband deeply, I speak about him with love. Life with me is quite a ride, and he is still sitting in that little carriage, looking at me with affection and holding my hand.

But to your question. At thirty, I would have thought it was nonsense that someone who loves, or is loved, would refuse to change in the image of the other person.

 Let's finish with your "methods." What does your session look like from the moment a client walks in to the moment they leave?

First of all – unless a client specifically needs it, for example because of anxiety or a strong need for structure – I no longer define the first session by a fixed time frame, and I do not announce in advance which method we will use. This is simply the way I propose working when we arrange the first meeting.

Of course, I can recognise when we are in the space of personal sharing, and when a client may be experiencing a deeper psychological difficulty that requires me to pause and potentially refer them to a psychotherapist, or in some cases a psychiatrist. But I usually cannot know that in advance.

I also do not frame the method itself, because I did not respond well to approaches where a coach strictly follows a predefined technique or set of trained procedures – asking questions designed to lead me to answers I had already been directly seeking.

Before each meeting, I ask clients what approach they would prefer that day. If they do not know or do not want to think about it, I take responsibility for that choice myself.

I also do not set fixed time boundaries. I have never been comfortable with the experience of therapists glancing at the clock – often positioned behind me – and ending the session at fifty minutes, just as I was beginning to settle into deeper emotional work.

Some clients need more time before they can really open up, and then the session ends just as we are getting somewhere meaningful. So instead, I make sure there is enough space, and I always ask how they see it.

Sometimes it is a long walk in Stromovka park. Sometimes it is a brief consultation. And I am sure some specialists would now start asking about my pricing structure. (laughs)

Certainly. But before I ask that, one more question: how do you tell when a client is using the more open format of working – no fixed framework, the option to walk, choosing the type of session – to avoid change or difficult topics rather than to go deeper?

Change again.

If a client wants change and it is part of the brief, I keep returning to it. I ask follow-up questions, and I am not afraid to ask the same question more than once, or to name when I feel something is being avoided.

At the same time, I can usually sense when change is not actually what the client is ready for, even if they say they want it. I think that becomes visible quite quickly in the work itself – and also in my references.

But I do not want to give the impression that my clients and I simply walk in nature discussing politics. That is not how it works.

A client comes with a certain topic and we agree on a brief. I always ask what the desired outcome is – and that outcome can be insight, clarity, or sometimes simply the act of sharing itself. Based on that, I propose an approach.

We then work through the topic. Because it is almost always multi-layered, we set aside what is not ready to be addressed in that moment and focus on what feels most important.

After a few sessions, we review where we are. We return to the original agreement and decide together whether to continue or conclude. I also ask for ongoing feedback, and I regularly check whether the client still feels the work is meaningful and worth their time and investment.

Some collaborations last four months, others five years – that depends entirely on the client. Five years, however, is not typical for psychological counselling.

I am also able to end the collaboration myself when I feel that further work would no longer bring value, or would no longer serve the client’s interests. Sometimes I simply sense that we have done meaningful work together, and that continuing would become maintenance rather than movement. And that, for me, no longer makes sense.

And now – the pricing (smile).

And now – the pricing (smile)?

I prefer to keep specific details between me and my clients, but I can say this: I have a set hourly rate, as well as two-hour and four-hour rates for both corporate and individual clients. Every client knows the price in advance, and if the time frame is not clear at the beginning, I provide an indicative structure.

Thank you for a wonderful conversation.

The pleasure was mine.