Meet the Resistance

First, please admire a taste of the explosion of spring we’re having here in Philly.

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Resistance. We’ve been taught that it’s a problem to be conquered. Overridden. Vanquished. That it’s an obstacle cooked up by dubious forces to keep us stuck in our old patterns.

But… what if that’s incorrect? Or, at the very least, incomplete?

The deeper I go inside myself, the more patient, curious, and compassionate I become with myself, the more present and attuned I can be, the more I see resistance as a protective element.

Fueled by a desire to keep me safe; albeit an often misguided, outdated, and unskillful strategy, but still… an ally.

Allow me to introduce you to the leading members of my inner resistance committee.

I’ll give you a moment to decide if you want to turn back.

No? OK, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Aren’t they fearsome? Diabolical? Nefarious?

Nope. That’s just my adorable younger selves.

I’m including these photos to illustrate the opportunity for me to approach resistance like a cooperative friend, because it’s just part of me stuck in the past.

This girl wasn’t allowed to have or express any feelings or beliefs that made the adults around her uncomfortable.

Being the wise little creature she was, she adapted in order to get by. To a child, getting by means fitting in and belonging. Like many of us, she became a chameleon.

She shut down emotionally and kept quiet to avoid unpleasant consequences. As she grew older, she turned to the magical world of books to escape and Tastykake butterscotch krimpets to numb out.

She perfected perfectionism, productivity, and people-pleasing and mastered the art of being the girl she was expected to be while masking the deep pain of abandoning her true essence.

She’s the one who resists when I say no to sugar cravings, stand up for myself, or post an audio recording with a glaring mistake. These things all set off alarm bells and make her feel endangered because she doesn’t have the resources to face change or challenges. Of course she doesn’t, she’s just a child.

Rather than waging war against her, I can meet with her. I can assure her that we are indeed safe. That I’m an adult who can take care of us and she is free to cease her perpetual vigilance and go play. I can bring the healing energy that helps her to soften.

Here’s where the tools I share over and over and over again come in. Compassion, curiosity, patience, presence, mindfulness, mantra, breath, Reiki, intuitive movement. From these elements, we can create our own personalized recipes for healing.

Just knowing that what appears to be resistance is really just a scared girl inside wanting to protect herself is a huge relief and an invitation for me to approach the situation with care and tenderness.

I’ll note that there is a potential here to get derailed in a pity party, to get lost in the woe-is-me, and wallow in the grief of a childhood that was never fully experienced.

Somewhere in the middle, there is a path that acknowledges the pain of the past, the wrongness of it all, while tending to an eclectic collection of inner children who feel neglected and betrayed, and does so without becoming attached to them.

“… as long as one continues to use one’s misfortune to one’s advantage in order to be ‘special’, one will always need that misfortune.”— Ichiro K`ishimi

I found this quote ‘accidentally” and sychronistically here on Substack. It really hits home. If I want to heal the original misfortune, I need to let go of any clinging to it and all urges to fight against it, run away, or collapse in a heap in the corner.

If I want to be exceptionally masterful, I can go a step further and accept that my early caregivers were not intentional tormentors; rather ordinary people who had never learned to befriend their own inner protectors. Blaming them does absolutely nothing to help me; it just keeps me stuck in victim mode.

There is no villain without a victim.

There is no healing without awareness.

It’s my job to hold it all with a stern grandmotherly type authority, welcoming and soothing, supporting and nourishing, from the layers of deep wisdom rather than the amygdala.

This nuanced and paradoxical journey of reclaiming wholeness is complex and challenging. That’s why I get aggravated when someone claims to know the four easy steps of healing or the “right” way to move forward. If only it were that simple!

If you have some old photos of yourself, it can be really helpful to post them around your space as a reminder of that imprint you carry. And, of course, I’d love to meet them if you want to share here.

Any act of acceptance is a step in the direction of wholeness. What small gesture of friendship can you extend to your resistors?

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