Every story of change has a hidden character, one that quietly works against the transformation you say you want.


We call it resistance.


Resistance naturally arises in the process of change. After all, according to Isaac Newton’s Third Law of Motion: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Movement occurs in pairs, whether physical or psychological.


So we shouldn’t be surprised, or even upset, when a desire for change evokes an opposing force that blocks it. Resistance is only a problem when we refuse to invite it into the conversation.


Here’s a “hot off the press” example of resistance in real time. As I sat down to write this, I tried to think of a good example from my own life. Nothing came to mind. That, in itself, is one layer of resistance. Then I noticed another: suddenly, I felt hungry and found myself wanting to go into the kitchen and make something to eat. A perfect distraction from the discomfort of writing about… resistance.


Resistance can be either conscious or unconscious pushback against change, growth, or anything that unsettles us. It’s highly versatile and shows up in many forms: avoidance, defensiveness, distraction, or detachment. No matter how much we say we want change, another part of us is often working just as hard to prevent it.


Resistance plays a role in every story we tell. 

But what if we could transform it into an ally rather than experience it as a saboteur? 

What if resistance isn’t something to overcome, but something to listen to, because it’s pointing directly to where your growth is trying to happen?

If we are the authors of our stories, then we also get to decide the role resistance plays within them.


So why do we resist change? The usual suspects: fear of the unknown, fear of losing our identity, loss of control, and fear of failure, even when the change is something we say we want. Resistance protects us from these perceived threats. It’s an excellent warning system when change is underway.


But it’s a terrible strategist.


Let resistance do what it does best: sound the alarm that something is shifting, something is coming, happening, or has already happened. It’s a wake-up call, directing our attention to who we are and how we respond in the midst of change.


If you expect your fire alarm to put out a fire, you’ll likely get burned. It simply doesn’t have that capability. But a fire alarm becomes lifesaving when it prompts you to call the fire department. Firefighters are equipped to do what the alarm cannot: contain the fire and rescue what matters.


Last week, I invited you into the “ReStory Lab” to run an experiment on one of your stories. Did you do it?


If you did, what did you learn?

If you didn’t, what did you learn?


Good scientists know that all data is useful when we’re in an experimental mindset. This isn’t about judging yourself. It’s about observing what’s true.

I ask because I made up a hypothesis: that beneath all the reasons for not doing the experiment, resistance may have been at work. But only you know what’s true for you.


Changing a story isn’t easy, especially when that story is tied to your identity. We will go to great lengths to protect who we believe ourselves to be. And yet, alongside that attachment is an equally powerful drive to grow, to evolve, and to discover something new about ourselves and the world.


A few weeks ago, my client James told me he no longer wanted to be called Jimmy. The name carried painful associations from childhood bullying, and it no longer reflected the man he had become. After years of deep, transformational work, “James” felt more aligned, more honest, more powerful, more deserving of respect.


This week, don’t try to overcome resistance. Just notice it.

Where does it show up?

How does it speak?

What does it stop you from doing?

Next week, I’ll show you how to start working with it instead of against it.

And if you’re curious now, email me and tell me where you’re seeing it. I may use your example (anonymously) to bring this to life.