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I Bend So I Don’t Break

Updated: Nov 9


“Change is never painful. Only resistance to change is painful.”

— attributed to Buddha

Strength is often seen as standing firm against life.

But sometimes, real strength is learning when to move, when to yield, when to let life shape us without losing ourselves.

In this post, Zoe reflects on how bending — not breaking — becomes our deepest resilience.

ZOE MOLNAR | 15/05/2025


There is a version of strength many of us are taught to admire:

Always standing firm.

Always pushing through.

Never hesitating.

It looks powerful from the outside.

But real strength — the kind that carries us through real life — is something different.

Psychological research shows that resilience — the ability to recover, adapt, and keep moving forward under stress — is not about rigidity.

It is about flexibility.

Resilience is not about refusing to bend. It is about knowing how, and when, to move.


Rigid strength looks powerful — until a real storm comes.

When life shifts, when losses come, when your old ways stop working…

it is not the strongest who survive.

It is the most adaptable.

It is the ones who know how to bend without losing themselves.


The Science of Resilience

Psychological research challenges the traditional idea that strength means staying the same.

Studies on resilience — the ability to recover from adversity — show that true strength is not about rigidity.


It is about flexibility.


According to Dr. George Bonanno, a leading researcher on resilience, individuals who adapt flexibly to stress — who can adjust their emotions, thoughts, and actions when circumstances change — are the ones who thrive after hardship.


In contrast, rigid coping strategies — trying to push through without adjusting — are linked to burnout, anxiety, and emotional breakdown.


Resilience is not stubbornness. It is the willingness to stay connected to yourself while moving with life. Bending does not mean breaking.

It means surviving. It means growing stronger, not harder.


Why We Resist Change

If bending is so essential, why is it so hard?


Because change touches deep, hidden fears.

In psychology, we know that identity is one of the strongest anchors a human being has.

How you see yourself — even when that image is limiting or outdated — gives you a sense of security.

Change threatens that.


Even positive change — healing, growth, expansion — means you must let go of who you have been. You are asked to step into a space where the rules are not written yet.

Where your old strategies — perfectionism, overachieving, pleasing, fighting — might not work anymore.


Your nervous system does not distinguish between “good” change and “bad” change.

It only knows: unfamiliar.

And unfamiliar can feel unsafe.


The Cost of Rigidity

Trying to hold everything together exactly as it is — refusing to bend — might feel like strength at first. And it might even work for a while.

You push through.

You hold the line.

You tell yourself this is what you have to do.


But little by little, the cost begins to show. And inside, something begins to break.


At first, it looks like tiredness. A quiet disconnection from your own joy. You stop hearing your own needs. You silence your own instincts. You shrink your world down to what feels safe, even if it no longer feels alive. You trim your dreams down to what feels manageable.


Your body grows heavier. Your mind becomes sharper but colder.

You disconnect — from joy, from creativity, from yourself.


Rigidity is not protection.

It is a slow betrayal of your own life force. It traps you in a version of yourself that survives — but no longer lives.


And eventually — whether in a sudden break or a slow erosion — something gives way.

Not because you lacked strength.

But because you tried to stay strong in a world, and a body, and a soul that are built for change.


True Resilience Is Bending

Real strength is not in resisting change. It is in staying connected to yourself while you change.


Bending does not mean losing your truth. It means moving with life instead of bracing against it. It means allowing yourself to soften, to be surprised, to not always have the answers. It means grieving what needs to be grieved — and making room for what wants to emerge.


Bending is not failure. Bending is survival.

It is choosing evolution over exhaustion.

It is saying: “I am willing to become.”


It is trusting that who you are becoming can hold everything that you have been — without breaking.


Coaching Insight

In change coaching, we do not force you to let go of everything at once.

We do not tear down your old ways. We work with what is ready. We honor the parts of you that kept you safe. We listen for the places where life is already inviting you to bend.


Growth is not about becoming someone else. It is about becoming more fully yourself — in ways that fit who you are now, not who you had to be then.


You do not have to resist change. You can move with it. You can move as yourself.


Zoe’s Next Steps

A gentle coaching preview inspired by this post


  1. Notice Where You Feel Rigid

Ask yourself: Where am I holding on too tightly?

Is it a belief? A role? An expectation?

Just notice. Without judgment.


  1. Thank the Part That Resists

Before pushing past it, pause and say:

“Thank you for trying to keep me safe.”

Resistance often points to something precious — your need for safety, belonging, dignity.


  1. Invite a Small Bend

Ask: What would bending look like here?

Maybe it is softening a deadline.

Maybe it is asking for help.

Maybe it is allowing yourself to rest instead of pushing through.


Change does not demand huge leaps.

It often starts with one small, merciful adjustment.

Need Support?

You do not have to do it alone.

Coaching is where we make this real—at your pace, in your voice.

Life coach working online, smiling while talking on the phone and using a laptop in a calm, modern space.


Further Reading & Citations

  • Bonanno, G. A. (2004). Loss, trauma, and human resilience: Have we underestimated the human capacity to thrive after extremely aversive events? American Psychologist.

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