Journey Coaching

When his name popped up on my screen, I switched calls -and my composure shattered.

“I trusted you with my daughter and you fucking left her alone. You abandoned her. I trusted you. WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?”

The words came out between sobs, tears streaming down my face as fear and desperation took over completely.

There was nothing he could have said to calm me. I was fully triggered- living inside my worst fear. A fear born from far too many traumatic experiences that have crossed our little family’s path.

---

When my daughter was four years old- bright pink backpack, black t-shirt, turquoise shorts, camera rolling -she jumped onto the bus for her very first day of school.

Like any sentimental parent, her father and I went to the school to record the moment she stepped off the bus.

Tucked between cars at the edge of the parking lot, I watched the bus pull in. A teacher approached the door and began ushering preschoolers off the bus and toward their classrooms.

One by one, adorable four- and five-year-olds hopped down.

I waited.

Even though I knew that my daughter was the last one picked up that morning, my gut told me something was wrong. Fear crept in fast.

My ex-husband, filming, tried to reassure me.
“You must have missed her. What was she wearing? I’m sure she’s fine.”

I ignored him and started running toward the entrance just as the buses began pulling out of the driveway.

I yelled for teachers to help.

The bus exited, turned left, and passed the front of the school one final time.

That’s when I saw her.

My beautiful little girl- sitting alone in the middle of the bus, staring out the window.

I screamed.

---

That day has never left me.

The staff panicked. People scrambled. Calls were made. It felt like hours before they reached the driver and turned the bus around.

When my girl finally stepped off the bus, I walked her smiling face into class. She had no idea anything was wrong. Inside, I had almost died.

There were immediate meetings. Endless phone calls. A clear urgency to get ahead of a potential lawsuit.

I held it together, listening to the explanations of how it slipped through the cracks, while my mind replayed the image of that bus pulling away. In those moments, logic didn’t matter- only the fear that my child could have been somewhere no one would have known – had I not been there.

When I finally broke down, all I could say was:
“They forgot about her. They forgot about my baby girl.”

---

A decade later, as the adrenaline from this Wednesday night began to fade, I sat down to write an email to the coach, the team, the school, and the district.

The people I had trusted with one of the most important humans in my life.

“While I was still 4 minutes out, my daughter called me to tell me that the game was over and that SHE HAD BEEN LEFT ALL ALONE! 

My daughter, with whom I entrusted to you for a team event, had been left alone at a public venue. 

While my words are few at the moment, do not misinterpret it for the absolute rage that I feel. You can confirm with Coach S the fear that I was living- was in real time. 

YOU ABANDONED MY DAUGHTER 

If your intention is to leave a young woman alone in a public venue at the end of a team event, I would have appreciated some sort of information so that I could have better prepared. 

My rage, disdain, and absolute disbelief stem from a clear act of negligence. A 14-year-old minor was left alone at the conclusion of a school-sponsored team event, without supervision, without confirmation of transportation, and without parental notification.

This was not a misunderstanding. This was a failure of duty of care.

Leaving a child, MY child, unattended in a public venue constitutes negligence, and it placed my daughter in a position of real and immediate risk.”

I do not mince words.

But what I do do is recognize when I am reliving an old trauma.

And I couldn’t bring that version of myself into the conversation.

That’s self-awareness.

---

Not coincidentally, two days later I sat down to record a podcast on emotional intelligence and its impact on relationships. Ugh, I must remember that my life is NOT a series of tests; but rather AFFIRMATIONS of who I want to be!

As I prepared to speak with the head coach, I had to acknowledge the truth: as I circled the arena, unable to reach my daughter, I was fully triggered. Fear had hijacked my body. My perception was distorted. If I wasn’t careful, my true concerns would have been lost. 

I needed the conversation to be productive.

Yes, my daughter was safe. All’s well that ends well. Blah blah blah.

But the what-ifs mattered.

They mattered so another parent wouldn’t feel the terror I felt.

Walking into that conversation unhinged would have guaranteed one thing: no real change.

That’s what this journey of emotional intelligence is about- building relationships that lead to accountability, growth, and actual change.

I didn’t attack who they were as people.

I shared my fear. My desperation. My lived experience.

And they saw me.

And I know- without question -that they never want another parent to feel what I felt.

---

Emotional intelligence doesn’t ask us to be quiet.
It asks us to be intentional.

To separate the present moment from the echoes of our past.
To speak from truth instead of trauma.
To demand accountability without losing ourselves in rage.

That conversation didn’t erase the fear I felt- but it transformed it into something useful.

And that’s the work.
Not perfection.
Not silence.
Awareness, responsibility, and the courage to show up differently.

With all my love, xoxox J

P.S. Yes, 10 years ago, after my daughter was left on the bus, I followed that bus everyday for the first week. 

And yes, NOW both of my children have cell phones, with Findme Apps, and they check in with me on a consistent basis – Scarlett was less traumatized than me (again) and did what she could to help her poor mom make it through on Wednesday!