Creating the Space Is Only Half the Work

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

You have probably seen some version of this quote. It gets shared often, usually with a photo of open water or a mountain path. Brené Brown references it in her work. Coaches quote it in workshops. It has become something of a north star for anyone trying to move through life a little more intentionally.

And it is true. Genuinely true. That space matters enormously.

But I have been thinking about something lately, something that feels important to name.

We talk endlessly about creating the space. We talk far less about what we actually do once we are standing in it.

An empty space is not a neutral space

Here is the thing about that gap between stimulus and response. It does not stay empty for long.

If we have not built the capacity to use it well, the space fills itself. Usually with the same old patterns. The same defensiveness. The same urge to smooth things over, or to withdraw, or to explain ourselves before anyone has asked us to.

Creating the pause is the easy part to talk about. It sounds elegant. Breathe. Notice. Wait a beat before you respond.

But a pause with nothing inside it is not agility. It is just a delay before the same reaction arrives anyway.

This is where I think Susan David's work on Emotional Agility becomes so useful, because it is not really a philosophy about pausing. It is a process for what happens inside the pause. Showing up to what we feel rather than pushing it away. Stepping back far enough to see the feeling rather than being fused with it. Reconnecting with what actually matters to us. And then choosing a response that is workable, not just comfortable.

That is the work. Not the space itself, but what we bring into it.

What tends to fill the space instead

For a lot of us, especially those of us who coach for a living, the space quietly fills with old, familiar things.

It fills with the need to be helpful. To fix, to smooth, to add value, because sitting in silence feels like we are not doing our job.

It fills with people-pleasing. With the instinct to soften what needs to stay sharp, because staying quiet in someone else's discomfort is harder than we let on.

It fills with judgement, of ourselves more than anyone else. We notice the feeling and immediately decide what it says about us. Too sensitive. Too reactive. Not grounded enough for this work.

None of that is agility. It is just habit wearing the costume of stillness.

Self-compassion is what makes the space usable

This is the part I think gets missed most often. Staying in that space, really staying in it rather than rushing through it, requires something to hold us there. And what holds us there, more than technique, is self-compassion.

Kristin Neff's work on self-compassion describes this well. We cannot stay present with a difficult feeling if the moment we notice it, we start berating ourselves for having it. Self-compassion is not softness for its own sake. It is what makes it safe enough to look directly at what we are feeling, long enough to actually learn something from it.

Without that, the space becomes just another place to perform. Trying to look calm. Trying to look like the version of ourselves who has already done the inner work. Instead of actually doing it.

What this looks like for coaches

I think this shows up most clearly in the room with a client, in the half second after they say something that lands somewhere in us.

The temptation is to move quickly. To respond, to reflect back something useful, to keep the session flowing. And there is a version of the pause that is really just a performance of thoughtfulness, a beat of silence before we say the thing we had already half decided to say.

The deeper version is slower and less comfortable. It asks us to notice what actually rose in us. To let it be information rather than an instruction. To ask what our client might need right now, rather than what would make us feel more useful or more competent. And then to choose our response from that place, rather than from the reflex.

That is a very different kind of pause. It takes practice, and it takes a fair amount of self-compassion when we get it wrong, which we will.

A few reflective questions

Where do you notice yourself creating the pause, but not really using it?

What tends to rush in to fill that space for you? Helping, people-pleasing, judgement, or something else entirely?

What would it take to stay in that space a little longer, with a little more compassion for what you find there?

How might your coaching shift if the space itself became part of your practice, rather than just a technique you reach for?

The space between stimulus and response is real, and it matters. But it is not the destination. What we do inside it, that is the work.

About Melissa Hague

I'm Melissa Hague — a coach, courage-builder, and Certified Dare to Lead™ Practitioner. I support coaches to build the courage, compassion, and grounded confidence they need to show up more fully in their work, their lives, and their businesses.

Much of my work centres on the quieter, more human side of coaching — the inner work, the small brave steps, and the spaces where we learn to trust ourselves a little more deeply. I trained with Susan David in 2025 and am close to completing my Emotional Agility Certification. It's at the heart of what we explore inside The Courageous Coach® Programme.

Find out more at melissahague.com/courageous-coaches and let's connect here on LinkedIn.