While she was climbing the corporate cliff face, Erin Owen's Mount Everest-level stress, 60-hour workweeks, and never-enough-sleep lifestyle made her sick - literally.

The MBA-trained human resources consultant was in her mid-20s and constantly so tired she'd fall asleep on the couch before dinner. Her back ached from the two-hour commute, she caught colds every couple of months, and worst, she had trouble recalling details, she said.

Owen, now 37, concluded she had to get off the cliff and return to base camp. She needed to shift pace and reassess priorities. And perhaps with an inkling of her future work, she realized she had to cleanse body and mind - and even abode, which had fallen into mild disarray.

"I was putting myself last," said the mother of a toddler who lives in Northern Liberties with husband Matt Riggan, a University of Pennsylvania researcher. "It took me a good two years to unwind myself from that reality and accept that even though I was good at that work, that work wasn't good for my health."

Five years ago, Owen traded smart suits and a six-figure salary with all the perks for flexible hours, more modest pay, and loose Eastern-style tunics and slacks. She hasn't looked back.

Certified to practice nutrition and health counseling, Owen joined the growing ranks of the thousands who call themselves lifestyle coaches, a field that continues to attract customers despite the economic doldrums.

Her business, Health Catalyst, includes one-on-one counseling and has expanded into workshops in nutrition and yoga. Since her son was born, Owen has gone to a part-time practice, taking on a couple of new clients each month but working with only eight at any one time.

As a wellness coach, Owen essentially helps put life in order for the stressed-out, the exhausted, the overweight, the disorganized, the laid-off, the generally unhappy, stuck-in-a-rut folks of the world. Often her clients reflect her own life stage. At first, she worked with people looking to change career tracks; now she helps a lot of women balance work and family.

She negotiates not only the realms of mind and body, but also the actual physical space, like that junky bedroom that makes a good night's sleep impossible or that desk somewhere under a landfill that crushes any prayer of meeting deadlines.

Put simply, Owen cleans out life's clutter, wherever it might accumulate.

"Everything is connected," she said of her philosophy. "Whatever happens in the external space is reflected internally, and whatever happens internally affects the external space. Once you start to move things in one part of your life, it starts to move things in other parts."

That might sound like incense-laced New Age babble. But then Owen explains: Get rid of junk-food clutter in the pantry and those extra pounds start to come off. A trim body can boost self-image and energy, and that can transform relationships and lead to other life changes.

On this Monday, Owen meets client Antoinette Peters, 38, a graduate student, at her West Philadelphia apartment for a consultation. For the previous five visits over three months, the pair have met at local coffee shops. But Peters, who initially sought Owen to help with nutrition, has raised more issues to tackle, including serious disorganization at home that has stalled her goals of sleeping better, eating healthier, and becoming a high school English teacher.

"I needed to stop living like a college student," Peters said.

"She needs to live in her home like a home," Owen agreed. Peters also works with an acupuncturist, and Owen's suggestions often complement the practitioner's concerns.

While Owen emphasizes that as a coach she does not "treat, prescribe or cure," she does ask probing, open-ended questions that get clients thinking and formulating goals - and the myriad mini-steps to reach them. Like her previous human-resources job, this work is also about change, "personal change, aligning daily choices and behaviors with the bigger vision of what they want their life to be."

Until now, Peters' bedroom was packed with books and a TV, the mattress and box spring on the floor. That made the space less of a place to rest and more of a hub from which she studied, watched television, or read into the late hours. Sessions with Owen at $50 each (the bottom of a pay-as-you-like scale that tops out at $150) motivated Peters to create a space dedicated to sleep.

"I love my bed," she said, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the newly purchased headboard and matching dresser and mirror.

The living room, however, is still an overwhelming disaster. The cozy space is stacked with 20-plus cardboard boxes, unopened even after three years living there. A loveseat, the color of baked bread, is propped on its side - there's not enough free space to set it upright and actually use it as a sofa. And the new desk and bookshelves await assembly.

Meanwhile, the kitchen lacks pots and pans, and the fridge holds little more than a bottle of wine, frozen turkey burgers, and a single packet of salad dressing - obstacles to healthier meals, Owen notes.

Peters realizes she lives in a state of flux and needs to organize her dwelling and truly settle into it. As a child, she said, her family's frequent moves made it hard to ever consider any one place a home - or unpack the boxes.

"Even though you have the best of intentions, you need practical guidance," she said, sitting at a new dinette. "That motivation is hard to muster. I need a more systematic way to keep me accountable."

Owen, she said, fills that role.

Most people hire life coaches to keep them honest as well as encourage them to reach the finish line, according to life coach experts.

Since 1999, the membership of the International Coach Federation, based in Lexington, Ky., has swelled from 2,100 to 17,700, said Amy Richardson, a spokeswoman for the professional organization. "Coaches are not going to give you the answers, but help you define what you want out of life and how to get from Point A to Point B."

At first, Peters found that a disappointment. "Sometimes you just want the answer," she said. But now she appreciates the ownership she feels when she figures out solutions herself, with Owen as gentle but firm guide.

"Let's look at what remains to be done to transform the space," Owen suggests. "What do you feel is the most pressing? What's driving you nuts?"

"That room," Peters says, pointing to the living room. "It has too many boxes that I can't get through."

For the next 20 minutes, Owen helps Peters devise a floor plan, which Peters sketches in a spiral notebook; make a list of additional items she should purchase; and make another list of items to throw out (large rug that has absorbed cat-litter odors) or give away (narrow shelves). She also encourages Peters to identify relatives and friends who might help her tackle the (seemingly) herculean task.

Owen never gives orders. She asks: What do you feel you can do on your own? Where do you feel you need the most help? And the all-important: What would be a good goal for you?

In two weeks, the pair will meet again - and Peters will share her progress.

"It's so nice to have someone cheering for you from the sidelines," Owen said.

She should know. She has her own life coach.

"I end up getting clutter in the house," she allowed, "or having too many beers or chocolates. . . . People need support. Just like they might get a personal trainer or accountant for taxes, they need someone to help them along the way."

Contact staff writer Lini S. Kadaba at 215-854-5606 or Lkadaba@phillynews.com.