When Resistance Means Go

The things we fear most often signal what matters most. When fear is mixed with excitement, it’s not a warning — it’s a compass. That’s when resistance means go.

There’s a strange kind of fear that only shows up when something important is about to happen.

It’s not panic, exactly. Not dread either. It’s more like a thick fog around a door you’re afraid to open. And the more your hand reaches toward the handle, the louder the voice becomes — the one telling you to wait, to prepare more, to double-check everything, to maybe try something easier first.

Most people interpret that voice as a warning. I used to. But I’ve come to think of it as something closer to a compass. A compass with a broken needle — except it always points toward the place you most need to go. And what it points to is usually the thing you’re most afraid to do.

This is Resistance. Capital R. The kind Pressfield writes about. The kind you don’t notice at first because it doesn’t announce itself. It shows up wearing the mask of reason. Of caution. It speaks your own voice in your own head, using arguments so persuasive that you’ll call them “intuition.”

But Resistance has a tell. It doesn’t just say no. It says not now — not yet. And most dangerously of all, it says, what if you don’t even want to do this?

Because that’s the trick: Resistance doesn’t only show up when you’re doing something wrong. It also shows up when you’re about to do something right.

The Two Kinds of No

There are two reasons you might not want to do something. One is that it’s not for you. It doesn’t excite you. It’s an obligation, an expectation, someone else’s idea of a good life.

The other reason — and this is the one that matters — is that it does excite you. It lights something up in you. But it also demands a kind of exposure. It risks failure, sure, but more than that, it risks self-transformation. It threatens to dissolve the safe version of you that has managed to survive this far. It asks: what if this works?

And that’s terrifying. Because if it works, you won’t get to hide anymore.

So how do you know which kind of resistance you’re feeling?

That’s the whole trick.

There’s no formula. No litmus test. But there’s a pattern. If something scares you and you also feel a flicker of excitement — the kind you’re almost embarrassed to admit — that’s usually the sign. That’s when Resistance doesn’t mean stop. That’s when Resistance means go.

Why the Right Thing Feels Wrong at First

When you’re a kid, you know what you love. You chase it instinctively. But the older you get, the more layers get added. Expectations. Roles. Careers. The idea that your life is a series of smart moves. You start choosing things based on what makes sense — which is often a euphemism for what won’t embarrass you.

So you get good at things you don’t love. And then one day, something shows up that wakes up the part of you that remembers. A project, an idea, a conversation, even a line in a book. You feel something move. Then you immediately try to put it back in the box.

Why? Because if you admit what you actually want, you also have to admit what you’ve been avoiding.

So the pattern begins: desire, then fear. Then a list of reasons not to act. Then paralysis.

But that’s exactly when you should start. Not recklessly — not without thinking — but because of the fear. That fear is the flare. It’s the signal. It means this matters.

The things that don’t matter never scare you.

The Edge Is the Point

Everything worthwhile happens just past the edge of what you think you can do. That’s why Resistance always shows up at the border.

If you’re not feeling Resistance, you’re probably in familiar territory. You’re doing what you’ve already done, being who you’ve already been. That’s fine, for maintenance. But not for growth.

And here’s the philosophical punchline: you’re not supposed to feel ready. Readiness is backward-looking. You only ever feel ready for things you’ve already done. So if you wait until you feel ready to do something new, you’ll never start anything worth doing.

This is what people misunderstand about fear. They treat it as a stop sign. But sometimes, fear is actually the last line of defense between you and the person you’re becoming.

How to Tell When Resistance Means Go

So how do you tell the difference between bad fear and good fear?

I use two questions. The first is:

“If this opportunity disappeared tomorrow, would I be relieved or devastated?”

If the honest answer is devastated — even slightly — then the fear is a smokescreen.

The second question is:

“Am I excited to have done this, or excited to actually do it?”

A lot of things make us excited to imagine having done. Running a marathon. Writing a novel. Giving a TED talk. But the real signal is when the process itself — not the image of success, but the act of becoming — gives you a current of electricity, even if it’s tangled up with dread.

Because that’s the difference between a fantasy and a calling. A fantasy lives in the future. A calling pulls you forward now.

What’s On the Other Side

Everyone wants clarity. A guarantee that this path will lead somewhere good. But the truth is: if it came with guarantees, it wouldn’t be growth.

The hardest things you’ll do will never feel safe at the start. You’ll always have an excuse. A story about why later would be better. But most of the time, the Resistance is strongest right before a breakthrough — not because you’re wrong, but because you’re close.

That’s why you have to listen differently. Not to the loudest voice, but to the quietest one. The one saying, “You already know.”

The only way past Resistance is through it. You don’t wait for it to disappear. You walk straight into it. That’s where the real life begins.

That’s when Resistance means go.