Working with Resistance

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Another inside job

Some time ago, a coach I was working with suggested I do a 30-day writing challenge, which I immediately reduced to 15 days in order not to feel overwhelmed by the task. What came up for me was the fear of failure, that I couldn’t see it all the way through. I could already feel the dreaded anticipation of knowing I had to sit down and write and envisioning myself saying, “Screw it, I’m not going to do it.”

But this is in conflict with my overall desire to develop myself as a writer, to write something worthwhile that might help people, to leave something of myself behind after I’m gone. I spoke to my coach about the probability that some of this fear is trauma-sourced and she asked me how I would go about helping a client facing a similar concern.

So I told her how I might approach the struggle with a client, with the caveat that all clients are different and may need different approaches. What came out was a fairly clear, step-by-step process that could help someone process a trauma memory. I thought it might be helpful to share it here so that’s what this post is about.

Increasing Awareness

If I were working with myself, say, as the client and wanted to help me contact the trauma memory, I’d suggest I sit comfortably in my chair, feet flat on the ground or floor, arms relaxed, eyes lowered, and begin to focus inward, noticing the breath, the rise and fall of the chest, what the air passing through my nose feels like, just getting a sense of the body, any tensions, pains, itches, etc. We’d do this for at least 30 seconds, maybe up to a couple of minutes, allowing the breath to slow and the body to relax. (This produces a gentle version of a trance-like state that can allow the mind to relax, the focus to soften and deepen, perhaps for memories to surface.)

Next, I’d ask the client to call to mind the reaction that came up when presented with the idea of the 30-day challenge. I’d ask the client to notice first what happens in the body. In my case, a tightness in the chest, a cutting off of breath, a slight sensation of prickliness of the skin of my forehead (maybe a prelude to sweating), a tightness in the legs. (These are symptoms of the fight/flight response: the body is ready for action, to either defend against or escape attack.)

I’d also be curious about the emotion that gets aroused. For me it was fear and panic. My body and mind when into a “No!” position.

Inviting in Images

I’d ask the client if any images come up. For me, it was the image of saying, “I’m tired, I don’t feel like writing, I’m not going to do it!” and then feeling ashamed for not having the will or courage to see my intention through.

(So you may be able to see here we already have quite an image of someone who feels powerless or maybe weak.) Images of myself as a child come to mind, a photo of me I’ve seen a hundred times, the lowered head and downturned eyes, a portrait of a shy (afraid, worried) little guy.

I’d ask myself, the client, what’s happening here?

“I’m having my picture taken, I’m scared, I don’t know what it means except there’s all this smiling attention on me right now. (I don’t remember having my picture taken; I’m speaking emotionally, not literally. I’m describing the mental picture in the present tense.) I’m not used to that. Mostly I feel just along for the ride but right now, I’m expected to do something, I guess? I don’t want to. I don’t want to perform. I want to be left alone.”

Could it be I resist taking on a 30-day writing challenge because I don’t want to feel I have to perform? My refusal has to be wrapped in shame and fear though because to refuse my father or mother outright was not allowed. Fear was validated, defiance was not.

Working With the Image

I ask myself, what does he need to express, if he could, if he were allowed?

“Leave me alone!,” I exclaim. A few more things come to mind, which I’ll spare the reader of, since this post isn’t as much about my own specific inner work as it is about how one might approach it generally.

I’d encourage the client to express what was forbidden, what couldn’t get spoken at the time of the insult. (This can also be helpful for pre-verbal expressions of emotion. Sometimes, however, when words aren’t available, noises, animal-type sounds, etc., can help express what there are no human words for.)

Next, I’d ask the client if there’s anything the kid needs from them or anything they feel strongly led to say to or do for their kid. If there is, this is an opportunity for connection. Often this isn’t even necessary; the caring witness of the client of their own trauma kid, the kid’s understanding that their pain is being witnessed, that they are cared about, is all that’s necessary for profound healing and integration of this previously split-off part of the self. This process will likely need repeating depending on how profound the wound is and will certainly need to be done for other trauma memories.

I would then ask my client if there’s anything the kid wants to communicate to the older version of themself, the one who got overwhelmed by my coach’s suggestion. For me, it’s not yet clear. It feels trite to say, “You can do it. Do it for me.” This feels too quickly rendered, too performative, and I don’t want to perform. I will need to sit with this question awhile.

Conclusion

So that’s how I might try to help a client facing resistance about doing something they feel drawn to, that they think would be good for them. If this gives anyone some impetus to work with themself in this way, I hope it’s helpful. Let me know if anything’s not clear or if you have other ideas to add. Thanks for reading.