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“Defensiveness may protect the wound,
but surrender is what heals it.”
When relationships hit what I call dysfunction junction, two predictable defense patterns tend to emerge.
The first is denial. One partner points the finger outward, certain that every problem belongs to the other. In session, it’s almost cinematic, no matter what the issue, their eyes plead with me to validate their case: “See what I have to deal with?” They’ve mastered the art of deflection, yet remain blind to their own part in the cycle.
The second defense is battle mode. Imagine strapping on medieval armor: steel helmet, body casing, and boots. You’re hypervigilant, scanning for threats, ready to argue, debate, and prove. I once worked with a client who carried himself like a chess master, waiting to counter every word his partner spoke. But beneath his armor was not power, it was pain. When I asked him to pause, close his eyes, and breathe, tears welled up. His anger wasn’t about winning an argument; it was protecting a wound of feeling unseen and hurt.
This is the paradox: the more we resist, the less we heal. True growth begins not in blame or armor, but in surrender. Surrender is not weakness, it is courage. It is choosing to melt the Teflon shield, to take responsibility for your part, to trust that transformation is possible. So the question becomes: what piece of armor are you willing to lay down today to make space for love, healing, and change?
Like trying to hug someone through a suit of armor, defensiveness keeps us from feeling the warmth that’s already available. So, what shield do you notice yourself carrying in relationships, denial, blame, or battle, and what would it feel like to set it down, even for a moment?
“I release my armor
and open to the possibility
of love, healing, and growth.”
By Glenn S. Cohen - Center for Neurological Intelligence“Defensiveness may protect the wound,
but surrender is what heals it.”
When relationships hit what I call dysfunction junction, two predictable defense patterns tend to emerge.
The first is denial. One partner points the finger outward, certain that every problem belongs to the other. In session, it’s almost cinematic, no matter what the issue, their eyes plead with me to validate their case: “See what I have to deal with?” They’ve mastered the art of deflection, yet remain blind to their own part in the cycle.
The second defense is battle mode. Imagine strapping on medieval armor: steel helmet, body casing, and boots. You’re hypervigilant, scanning for threats, ready to argue, debate, and prove. I once worked with a client who carried himself like a chess master, waiting to counter every word his partner spoke. But beneath his armor was not power, it was pain. When I asked him to pause, close his eyes, and breathe, tears welled up. His anger wasn’t about winning an argument; it was protecting a wound of feeling unseen and hurt.
This is the paradox: the more we resist, the less we heal. True growth begins not in blame or armor, but in surrender. Surrender is not weakness, it is courage. It is choosing to melt the Teflon shield, to take responsibility for your part, to trust that transformation is possible. So the question becomes: what piece of armor are you willing to lay down today to make space for love, healing, and change?
Like trying to hug someone through a suit of armor, defensiveness keeps us from feeling the warmth that’s already available. So, what shield do you notice yourself carrying in relationships, denial, blame, or battle, and what would it feel like to set it down, even for a moment?
“I release my armor
and open to the possibility
of love, healing, and growth.”