The Unexpected Gift Of Resistance

(And Why It Often Points to the Work That Matters Most)

"The mistake we often make is trying to eliminate resistance instead of understand it; we fight it instead of welcoming resistance as information about the path of healing and transformation."

I’ve spent years of my life resisting positive change. Perhaps, it’s just the human condition, but it’s become a noticeable and uncomfortable pattern in my life. Over and over I’ve tended to resist the very things that end up being the best for me. Sometimes it’s not that bad, but there have been periods of my life when the resistance grows to extraordinary proportions, embarrassing proportions - not polite, not thoughtful hesitation - full-body, emotionally charged, kicking-and-screaming resistance. For years, I never really learned from these experiences. I basically thought that all this resistance meant something was wrong with me—that I was lazy, undisciplined, or self-sabotaging. Now I see it differently. I see resistance as information. And in my own life, it has often shown up right before something meaningful took root.

The Day I Fought Becoming a Soccer Coach

Years ago, friends kept encouraging me to help coach a youth soccer team. I pushed it off every time. The soccer fields were a 30 minute drive up a mountain - too far, too inconvenient. After working with kids all day the last thing I wanted to do was drag my butt up a mountain to entertain more kids. I just wanted to go home after work and relax.

Eventually, a friend convinced me to just come up and play. He reassured me that I didn’t have to coach - no commitment, just check it out. I’ll never forget the drive up the mountain. The entire drive I was in a raging fit against myself, “This is too far. I don’t want to do this! This traffic is horrible! Why did I agree to this?” I was like a petulant child in a high chair throwing a fit. By the time I arrived, I was so worked up that I wrecked my car on a curb, hard enough that the front wheels lifted off the ground. I was stuck. I needed a tow. I wanted to blame my friend. I wanted to completely lose it. But, the most fascinating thing happened. I had a moment of wakefulness and saw myself, my attitude, and my wreck as purposefully interconnected. I looked around and all over the fields were kids playing and enjoying life. Something about running over that curb had woke me up from myself-obsession. And, I found myself leaving my car, sea-sawing on that curb to join my friend and his team of kiddos. 

I could have never known or predicted what would unfold. I had an incredible time that evening. The kids loved me. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I forgot all about the car for the next hour. And, I wouldn’t know it then, but I would end up coaching those boys for five and a half years, building relationships and memories I still carry with me. What I had fought so hard against became one of the bright spots of my life. 

When practice ended that day, I walked back to my car, bracing for more chaos. Instead, someone nearby had a truck with a hitch. They pulled me off the curb in minutes. Looking back, what amazes me isn’t the accident—it’s the resistance and how long I obsessed over my decision. How long I beat myself up. How fiercely I fought something that in the end gave me some of the most important experiences of my life - purpose, connection, and joy.

Resistance Shows Up in Recovery Too

I saw the same pattern of resistance when I got sober years before. When I first started the path of recovery, I didn’t really have a home address. I was effectively homeless - “unhoused” is the preferred term now. Over and over, people suggested sober living. Over and over, I resisted. Eventually, despite my resistance, I rode my bike to my first sober living interview. And there it was again—the same rage, the same internal rebellion. I was arguing with God, with myself, with Reality, the entire bike ride across San Francisco. I had many of the same thoughts, “This house is almost outside San Francisco. It’s entirely too far. I can’t imagine riding my bike miles over here everyday - there are no bike lanes. And there’s no way I’m living with other addicts. I’m sure the house is filthy.” On and on it went. Near the end of the ride, I hit one of the steepest hills in San Francisco. I prided myself on being able to ride up any hill in the Bay Area. This hill stopped me cold - Ramsell St. - the address of what would become my new sober living house. I had to get off my bike, swallow my pride and walk it.

That final hill felt like a perfect external expression of my internal state: resistance, exhaustion, defiance, and surrender all tangled together. The hill was like wrecking my car. It threw me out of the hypnotic state of self-obsession. I had a moment of wakefulness and I surrendered. I was fighting the very thing that might save me. And once again, the

thing I resisted became a turning point. I was accepted into the house. It was a lovely home with amazing men all on the sober healing path. I lived in that home for almost a year. I became a house manager and leader. I made some of the most important memories of my early sobriety in that home, and it helped save my life.

The Psychology of Resistance and Ambivalence

When I work with people now—especially professionals struggling with addiction—I see this pattern constantly. Resistance doesn’t mean someone doesn’t want to change. It usually means part of them does—and part of them is terrified. This is what psychology calls ambivalence: two competing truths existing at the same time. One part wants relief, freedom, and integrity. Another part wants familiarity, comfort, or control—even if that control comes at a cost. Addiction thrives in this tension. So does transformation. The mistake we often make is trying to eliminate resistance instead of understanding it; judge ourselves instead of listen; we fight it instead of welcoming resistance as information about the path of healing and transformation. I know now that nine times out of ten resistance is a sign that something important is at stake.

What Surrender Actually Means

Every time I’ve had an experience of resistance there’s been a story to go along with it. “I’m not getting what I want! ‘This’ (whatever ‘this’ is) should be different!” And every time I’ve had a break through I’ve surrendered. Surrender isn’t a popular idea. In our culture surrender is for losers, not winners. Surrender means failure, giving up, letting someone “else” get the best of us. But, I am deeply convicted by my own experience and the experience of countless others whose transformational process has been miraculous: surrender isn’t giving up. It isn’t collapse or even a passive resignation or failure. In my experience, surrender is the moment you stop letting resistance run the show. It’s an invitation for something new to happen to us. It’s the willingness to keep moving—even while parts of you protest. To walk the bike up the hill. To show up imperfectly. To let support in before you’re fully convinced you deserve it. Most of the meaningful changes in my life required this kind of surrender—not dramatic, not spiritualized, just honest and embodied. Surrender was the bottleneck through which I passed into a new life.

A Gentle Invitation

If you recognize yourself in this—if you’re resisting something you know might help you—you’re not broken. You’re human. And you’re not alone. Sometimes what we need isn’t more willpower or motivation, but a space to understand our resistance instead of fighting it. If you’d like to reflect, talk things through, or explore what surrender might look like in your own life. My coaching might be right for you. Don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m always open to a conversation about healing and the path of transformation.

—Adam