You Don't Resist the Things You Resist, But What They Mean About You.

Let's talk about Resistance.

To most, this concept might sound unfamiliar, but trust me, we all resist plenty. Some more than others. And often, these are the people who are the most unhappy in life.

Most people can’t even name what they’re resisting, so let me help a little.

We resist forgiving someone who hurt us, or apologizing for a mistake we made.

We resist asking for help or telling a friend we're in a vulnerable spot.

We resist trying a new method or tool at work.

We resist cooperating with the new department head, the one with a whole different set of ideas and rules.

We resist letting go of old memories... both the ones that broke us and the ones we still romanticise.

And then the big kahuna of resistance: we resist CHANGE, (even when staying the same hurts more… but who would admit that, am I right?)

When asked why we can't forgive a betrayal, we usually say things like,“They don’t deserve it,” or “It still hurts too much.”

And sure, those reasons sound valid, And our friends will nod in empathy. But these are surface answers.. the things we think are the problem.

But most of the time, the real issue is this:

Forgiving them feels like you’re letting yourself be small, weak, or taken advantage of again. Something you were made to feel when you were younger or in earlier relationships… although you’re unconscious of it.

So you’re not resisting forgiveness. You’re resisting what you believe forgiveness says about you.

Same with apologies. We’ll say “I’m not the one at fault,” or “It won’t change anything anyway.” But underneath that, apologizing touches something raw. It whispers:

“Deep down I feel unworthy… and apologizing reminds me of that. And that remembrance hurts like hell.”

Resisting help? Oh, the excuses always sound adorable:

“Oh no, I dont want to trouble anyone.”

“I can handle it myself.”

“I’m just independent/ self-sufficient/ strong like that.”

Sure sure.

But more often, the real reason is:

“I don’t feel significant enough to receive help.” or “If I ask and they say no, it will confirm everything I fear about myself - that I’m weak, unlikable, a nuisance. So better not ask at all.”

Again, this goes way back… back when we were innocent children with emotional needs that were never met. We learned quickly and quietly:

“My needs are a burden.”

So as adults, we don’t resist the help itself. We resist what needing help seems to say about us:

“That I'm weak. That I'm needy. That I'm not enough on my own.”

And yes, this traces back to the same root I keep circling in every essay, post, and conversation: unworthiness. Most of us suffer from it. Most of us are unaware of it.

We don’t resist the memories themselves. We resist what letting them go seems to say about us.

Sometimes we cling to painful memories not because we enjoy suffering, but because they’ve become part of our identity. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the abandonment… they shaped us. They gave us a story. They explained our walls, our anger, our distrust. They even gave us permission to remain in a stagnant state that, although uncomfortable, feels familiar.

And even more so if we were raised in homes that were unhappy, chaotic, or where our needs were never a priority… then yes, this does feel like home.

Letting go can feel like losing a part of who we are. And when that part dies… what is left?

This is terrifying for those who have built their whole identity on painful stories.

“Who am I if I’m not the one who was betrayed?”

“Who am I if I’m no longer the abandoned one?”

“Who am I without my wounds and sob stories?”

And then there are the good memories too, the good old days we romanticise.

Letting go of them feels like accepting that a beautiful chapter is truly over. And that the identity we formed during that time is dissolving. For many of us, the death of an identity feels like: “I no longer know who I am.”

So again, it’s not the memory we resist. It’s the meaning we attached to it.

“If I let this go, who am I now?”

“If I stop grieving, does it mean they didn’t matter?”

“If I move on, does it mean the past wasn’t real?”

We resist letting go because we believe it diminishes the significance of what we lived through. We resist letting go because it forces us to face not only the loss of that old identity… but the challenge of building a new one.

And just to say this clearly, not everyone who holds on is avoiding growth. Some grief is deep, holy, and human. But if we find ourselves unable to loosen our grip for years, unable to breathe without the past attached to us… then maybe it’s worth gently exploring:

“Am I holding on because I still love, or because letting go makes me feel like I disappear too?”

Note:

These reflections offer just one way of understanding resistance.Every person’s story is different.This isn’t a diagnosis — just an invitation to start asking yourself better questions, to look a little deeper, and to get curious about where your own resistance comes from.

Thank you for reading <3