Live from the messy middle of internal resistance

Last week I co-facilitated an incredible group of women in the last module of a leadership development program. They had created a strong sense of connection and support and we wrapped up with hearing what they were taking away from the program.

It was so inspiring to share in their celebrations of their growth, and afterwards I was reflecting on my own growing edges and what I wanted for myself. I was surprised, and also not surprised, that what came up for me was that I want to write more, specifically poetry. 

When I was at middle school, I wrote a poem about a basketball game that got published in a small magazine that was distributed to schools. My parents still have a copy; it has that kind of unsettling looking discoloration that happens to old paper but the words are still clear.

Reading the poem brings up quite a lot of emotions for me - pride at how I strung together the rhymes, emotion at the dramatic tension in the scene, and some embarrassment at how much I wanted to be the hero of the game. I also don’t think it was all about being a hero, and more about doing my part to help a team be successful. Still, I’m not sure if the poem would have had the same impact if I’d made the game-winning assist. 

Last week I found myself mulling over that poem. It’s over 35 years old at this point, but that’s where my mind went to as I was considering what’s next for me, my creativity, and my courage.

One of the themes that is at the heart of my work in coaching and facilitation is self-belief. To unhook from praise and criticism, to overcome the fear that has us stay small and safe, to be more of who we are - and know we can be - if only we could believe in ourselves more. 

And so last week I asked myself, what’s stopping me from writing more poetry? Is it fear? Or is it something else? It was interesting to observe what happened in real-time as I decided to post a poem on my blog, one that I’d written in 2023 and that I come back to often to remind myself of how to overcome my negativity bias and strong inner critic. 

The first thing that happened was an inner voice popped up and said: “Who do you think you are? Mary Oliver, or Amanda Gorman, or Donna Ashworth?” (all poets whom I love and admire)

I had to pause then and consider. But then it felt like I got clarity, rather than a sense of feeling diminished. “No, I don’t. I don’t think I’m them, because I’m not. I admire them, and appreciate their writing and work, but I’m not aiming to be them.”

“Well, what if people think you’re a terrible poet and that it’s crazy to even think you could be one?” Ooh, this fear of judgement was SO big! 

I thought about it: “Ok, well, I’m sure that even great poets - famous ones, ones who get paid to do it - have written some poems that might not make their Best of collections. It’s ok to write something that doesn’t have to be great. And anyway, how do I know that my poem isn’t great? I don’t have to be the judge of that.”

By this point I was quite tearful. It felt like I was having this heated argument with a part of me that didn’t want me to hit publish. “Leave me alone!” I felt like shouting. “I’ve had enough of your bullying.” But I didn’t. I tried to stay with it and see what my resistance was trying to tell me in this really unhelpful way. It was essentially something like that it didn’t want me to be disappointed. That nobody would read my poem, or nobody would like it, or I’d look silly for trying.

At that point, I could see it was an attempt to protect me from harm. But I didn’t need protection - I just wanted to share a poem and trust that I could live with whatever happens. Also, because I think the poem could be helpful to someone, in the same way that writing it, and then re-reading it, have been helpful to me. 

So I hit publish. I jotted down notes about the experience so that I could then write this piece, to explain in real-time what the messy middle feels like when we’re overcoming internal resistance. It felt awful, I’ll be honest. I was there in my pyjamas, face red and blotchy with tears, all the morning activity of the house going on around me, and I was in a full-on mud-slinging argument - with myself! 

But then, it was done. The poem is here on my blog, so that you can read it. You might enjoy it. You might not - that’s not down to me. I just had to publish it. I put a gorgeous photo that I took last November in Miami to go with it, because that’s the photo that called me from my camera roll and said, “Post me; I’d like to be with your poem.” And the sky and sea are utterly beautiful. And that’s enough of a reason. 

Next time you consider being brave to do something that feels hard, see if you can understand what the resistance is about. See if you can appreciate how hard a frightened part of you is working to keep you safe. See if you can hear it, acknowledge how much it matters and that it’s brave, and then let it know that you trust yourself to handle whatever happens. I hope that you’ll have a sense of freedom and self-belief that will follow. I’d love to hear about it when you do and celebrate with you. 

p.s. I ended up going through a little flow-chart that helped with my decision-making to publish:

-> Could this help someone? (yes, I think it could)

-> Could this cause harm to someone? (no, I don’t think so, so I’m just going to do it!)

It helped enough with my getting clarity to give myself a green light.