Most of us learned one answer to hard things: try harder. Push through the anxiety. Power past the grief. Ignore the exhaustion and keep going. It works for a while. Then one day the same effort that carried us starts to wear us down.

In her book Try Softer (2020), licensed professional counselor Aundi Kolber offers a different invitation. Instead of meeting our pain with more force, she suggests meeting it with attention and compassion. Trying softer isn’t quitting. It’s changing how we try.

Why trying harder stops working

When life feels threatening, whether from a crisis, a long season of stress or old wounds, our nervous system does its job. It moves into survival mode. Some of us speed up: racing thoughts, irritability, a tight chest, trouble sleeping. Others shut down: numbness, fog, exhaustion, pulling away from people we love.

Kolber draws on an idea from psychiatrist Dan Siegel called the window of tolerance. Inside that window, we can think clearly, feel our feelings and respond rather than react. Outside it, willpower has very little to work with, because the brain is busy keeping us safe. That’s why “just push harder” so often leaves us more depleted. We’re asking a body in alarm mode to perform as if everything were fine.

What trying softer looks like

Trying softer starts with noticing, not fixing. Here are four simple practices drawn from the book’s approach that you can begin today.

We heal in connection

A theme that runs through Kolber’s work is that we aren’t meant to do this alone. Our nervous systems settle most easily in the presence of safe, attuned people: people who notice us, take our pain seriously and stay. For many of us, learning to be gentle with ourselves starts by experiencing that gentleness from someone else first.

A note for those of faith

If faith is part of your life, the idea of trying softer may sound familiar. Pastor John Ortberg makes a related point in The Life You’ve Always Wanted: lasting change comes less from trying harder than from training wisely, through small, steady practices repeated over time. And many find comfort in an invitation that offers rest rather than more striving:

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”Matthew 11:28

Whether or not faith is part of your story, the heart of trying softer is the same: you don’t have to earn rest, and you don’t have to heal by force.

When to reach out

If survival mode has become your normal, with constant worry, feeling numb or on edge, or barely making it through the day, counseling can help. Together, we can widen your window of tolerance, build practical tools for hard moments and work through what keeps your body on high alert. You don’t have to try harder to get there.

This article is for general education and isn’t a substitute for professional care. If you’re in crisis, call or text 988, or call 911. Try Softer is written by Aundi Kolber; we’re not affiliated with the author or publisher.

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Have you ever caught yourself in the same argument, the same habit or the same kind of relationship, and thought, “How did I end up here again?” You’re not alone, and you’re not failing. You may simply be in one of the chapters of change.

In 1977, singer and writer Portia Nelson published a short poem called “Autobiography in Five Short Chapters” in her book There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery. It’s only a few lines long, yet therapists, recovery groups and teachers have shared it for decades, because it describes how real change happens better than most textbooks do.

The five chapters, in brief

The poem follows one person walking down a street with a deep hole in the sidewalk. Here is the journey, in my own words:

1. Chapter one. She falls into the hole without seeing it. She feels lost and helpless, it seems like someone else’s fault, and climbing out takes a very long time.
2. Chapter two. Same street, same hole. She still doesn’t see it coming and falls in again, stunned to be back in the same place, still sure it isn’t her doing.
3. Chapter three. This time she sees the hole and falls in anyway, out of habit. But something has shifted: she owns it, she knows exactly where she is, and she gets out right away.
4. Chapter four. She sees the hole and walks around it.
5. Chapter five. She takes a different street.

To read the poem itself, look for There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk by Portia Nelson. It’s worth having in Nelson’s own words.

What the poem teaches about change

Awareness usually comes before change, not after it. Notice that in chapter three, she still falls in. Seeing a pattern clearly doesn’t make it disappear overnight. But awareness changes everything about the fall: she recognizes it, takes responsibility and climbs out faster. That is real progress, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Ownership is a turning point, not a punishment. Moving from “it isn’t my fault” to “I know where I am” isn’t about blame. It’s about power. When we see our part in a pattern, we also see what we can change.

Falling in again is part of the process. Psychologists James Prochaska and Carlo DiClemente described change as a series of stages, from not yet seeing a problem, to considering change, to preparing, acting and maintaining. Like the poem, their model treats setbacks as normal, not as proof that we’re stuck forever. Be gentle with yourself in the chapters where you still fall in. (Our article on trying softer explores why kindness works better than force.)

The last chapter is a choice. Walking around the hole takes effort and attention. Choosing a different street means building a new path altogether: new routines, new boundaries, sometimes new relationships. As the saying goes, if nothing changes, nothing changes.

You don’t have to find the new street alone

Counseling is one of the most effective ways to move through these chapters. Together we can map the holes on your street, understand why they keep catching you, and build the skills and support to walk a different way. Whether you’re in chapter one or chapter four, you’re welcome here.

This article is for general education and isn’t a substitute for professional care. If you’re in crisis, call or text 988, or call 911. “Autobiography in Five Short Chapters” © 1977 Portia Nelson, from There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery; summarized here in our own words. We’re not affiliated with the author or publisher.

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When someone you love is struggling, with addiction, their mental health or choices that keep you up at night, everything in you wants to step in and fix it. You check in, you smooth things over, you carry what they won’t. And slowly, you start to disappear.

There’s a short reading called “Letting Go” that has been passed from hand to hand for years in support groups and counseling offices. No one knows for certain who wrote it. Its power is in its simple structure: line after line, it sets what letting go is not beside what it truly is. Here are its main ideas, in my own words.

What letting go really means

Caring without controlling. Letting go doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means accepting that you can’t live someone else’s life for them, and you can’t control their choices, no matter how much you love them.

Supporting instead of rescuing. There’s a difference between caring for someone, taking over their responsibilities, and caring about them. The reading invites us to be supportive rather than to fix, and to let people learn from the natural results of their own choices instead of shielding them from every consequence.

Accepting rather than denying. Letting go means facing what’s actually happening, without blaming, judging or arranging every outcome behind the scenes. It means letting the other person be fully human, mistakes and all.

Turning the focus back to yourself. Perhaps the most freeing idea is this: instead of nagging, scolding or trying to change someone, letting go turns our attention to our own growth. It invites us to take each day as it comes, to value ourselves in it and to live toward the future instead of rehearsing the past.

The reading ends where all of this leads: when we let go, there is less room for fear and more room for love.

What letting go is not

Letting go is often misunderstood as walking away. It isn’t abandonment, indifference or giving up hope. You can let go and still show up, still pray or hope, still say “I love you.” What changes is that you stop trying to carry a weight that was never yours to hold.

Signs you may be holding on too tightly

• Your mood rises and falls with theirs.
• You cover for them, make excuses or clean up after their choices.
• You spend more energy managing their life than living your own.
• You feel responsible for outcomes you can’t control.
• Resentment, exhaustion or guilt have become your normal.

If several of these sound familiar, you’re not weak or failing. You’re someone who loves deeply. You may simply need new ways to love that don’t cost you yourself.

Healthy boundaries aren’t walls

Letting go often takes the shape of boundaries: clear, kind limits on what you will and won’t do. Boundaries aren’t punishments or walls. They’re how love stays honest. They protect the relationship from resentment and protect you from burning out. (For a faith perspective, see Can Christians set boundaries?) For many people, faith-based or not, there is also deep peace in accepting what we cannot change and finding courage for what we can.

You don’t have to do this alone

Loving someone through a hard season is exhausting, and learning to let go can bring up grief, guilt and fear. Counseling gives you a place to sort out what’s yours to carry, practice boundaries that feel right and take care of yourself, whether or not the person you love is ready to change.

This article is for general education and isn’t a substitute for professional care. If you or someone you love is in danger or in crisis, call or text 988, or call 911. “Letting Go,” author unknown, is summarized here in our own words.

More from our blog: Try softer · Five chapters of change

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Many Christians quietly carry a belief that saying no is unloving. We’re taught to serve, to forgive, to put others first, and somewhere along the way, “love your neighbor” starts to sound like “never disappoint anyone.” The result is often exhaustion, resentment and a faith that feels more like obligation than life.

Boundaries aren’t the opposite of Christian love. Understood well, they’re one of the ways love stays healthy, honest and sustainable.

What a boundary is, and isn’t

A boundary is simply a clear sense of where you end and someone else begins: what you are responsible for, and what you are not. It’s a line around your time, energy, body, emotions and choices. A boundary is not a wall, a punishment or a way to control someone else. You can’t make another person change. You can decide what you will and won’t do.

Jesus had boundaries

The Gospels show a Savior who loved completely and still lived with limits.

• He stepped away to rest and pray, even when crowds were waiting. “And he withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed.” (Luke 5:16)
• He didn’t hand his trust to everyone. John notes that Jesus “did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all men.” (John 2:24)
• He let people walk away. When the rich young ruler chose not to follow, Jesus didn’t chase, pressure or rescue him. (Mark 10:17–22)
• He said a clear yes and a clear no, and taught us to do the same: let your yes be yes, and your no be no. (Matthew 5:37)

Three myths that keep Christians stuck

Myth 1: “Boundaries are selfish.” Jesus summed up the law as loving God and loving “thy neighbour as thyself” (Mark 12:31). Love of others assumes care for yourself, not neglect of it. Proverbs urges us to guard the heart, “for out of it are the issues of life” (Proverbs 4:23). Stewarding your limits is part of stewarding your life.

Myth 2: “If I forgive, I have to let things go back to how they were.” Forgiveness is releasing a debt. Trust is rebuilt over time through changed behavior. You can fully forgive someone and still decide what access they have to your life. Reconciliation takes two people. Forgiveness takes one.

Myth 3: “A good Christian carries everyone’s burdens.” Paul writes, “Bear ye one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2), and a few verses later, “every man shall bear his own burden” (Galatians 6:5). Many teachers, including Henry Cloud and John Townsend in their well-known book Boundaries, point out the difference: we help each other with crushing loads, but each person is still responsible for their own daily load. Carrying someone else’s responsibilities can keep them from growing.

Where boundaries matter most

Christians often struggle with boundaries in a few familiar places: with family members who expect constant availability, in marriages where one person carries everything, at church where the faithful few are asked to do it all, and with friends whose crises never seem to end. In each, a boundary isn’t a rejection of the person. It’s a way to stay in the relationship without losing yourself.

When it’s more than a boundary issue

If someone is threatening, controlling or harming you, your safety comes first, and no verse asks you to stay in danger. Reaching out for help is not a failure of faith.

Growing in this takes support

Learning to set boundaries can stir up guilt, fear and old messages about what it means to be a “good” Christian. Counseling offers a place to untangle those beliefs, practice new words and grow in the freedom Christ offers. If you’d like your faith woven into that work, we’re glad to do that together.

This article is for general education and isn’t a substitute for professional care. If you’re in crisis, call or text 988, or call 911. If you’re experiencing abuse, the National Domestic Violence Hotline is available 24/7 at 1-800-799-7233. Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. Boundaries is by Henry Cloud and John Townsend; we’re not affiliated with the authors or publisher.

More from our blog: Letting go without giving up · Try softer · Five chapters of change

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Abuse doesn’t always leave bruises. Sometimes it looks like a spouse who controls the money, checks every text, decides who you can see and uses Scripture to keep you quiet. It can happen in any home, including Christian homes, and it is never God’s design for marriage.

What intimate partner violence includes

Intimate partner violence (IPV) is abuse by a current or former spouse or partner. It can be physical or sexual, but it also includes emotional and psychological abuse, financial control and stalking. It’s more common than many people realize. In the CDC’s 2015 national survey, about 1 in 4 women and nearly 1 in 10 men in the U.S. reported experiencing sexual violence, physical violence or stalking by a partner, along with a lasting impact on their lives.

What coercive control is

Sociologist Evan Stark popularized the term coercive control in his 2007 book of the same name. He described abuse not as a single incident, but as an ongoing pattern of domination that slowly takes away a person’s freedom, confidence and connections. Because there may be no physical violence at all, coercive control is often missed, sometimes even by the person living with it.

Common tactics include:

• Isolation: cutting you off from friends, family, church or other support.
• Monitoring: tracking your phone, location, messages or spending.
• Financial control: withholding money, controlling all accounts or keeping you from working.
• Micro-regulation: rules about what you wear, eat, say, or how you spend your time.
• Intimidation and threats: threats to leave, to harm you, themselves, your children or pets, or to shame you publicly.
• Degradation: constant criticism, humiliation or insisting you’re “crazy” or remembering things wrong.

When faith is used as a weapon

In Christian marriages, control is sometimes dressed in spiritual language. A partner may demand obedience in the name of “headship,” tell you that God requires you to submit to mistreatment, threaten you with God’s judgment, control your involvement in church or cut you off from people who could help. This is sometimes called spiritual abuse, and it can make leaving, or even naming what’s happening, feel like a betrayal of God.

But Scripture describes something very different. The passage most often misused, Ephesians 5, opens with a call to mutual submission (Ephesians 5:21) and tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself for it (Ephesians 5:25). That is self-giving love, not control. Paul writes plainly, “Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them” (Colossians 3:19), and describes love that “seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked” (1 Corinthians 13:5). The psalmist knew the particular pain of betrayal by a close companion (Psalm 55:12–14). God sees it too.

Many pastors and Christian scholars agree that God does not ask anyone to stay in danger. Questions about separation and divorce deserve careful, compassionate guidance, but safety always comes first.

Why couples counseling isn’t the first step

When someone is being controlled or abused, joint counseling is generally not recommended. It can be unsafe to speak openly in front of the person causing harm, and what’s said in session can lead to consequences at home. The safer first step is individual support, often alongside a domestic violence advocate who can help with safety planning.

For churches, friends and family

If someone confides in you: listen and believe them. Don’t push them to reconcile, keep the peace or “pray harder” in the abusive situation. Keep what they share confidential, don’t confront the abuser on their behalf, and connect them with the National Domestic Violence Hotline or local advocates. Your calm, steady support can be a lifeline.

Help is available

Healing from coercive control takes time. Many survivors carry anxiety, self-doubt, grief and spiritual wounds long after the relationship ends. Individual counseling offers a safe, confidential place to make sense of what happened, rebuild trust in your own perceptions and, if you wish, reconnect with a faith that brings freedom rather than fear.

This article is for general education and isn’t a substitute for professional, legal or emergency help. If you’re in danger, call 911. National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233, text START to 88788, or chat at thehotline.org. Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. Statistic: CDC National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey, 2015 data. Evan Stark, Coercive Control: How Men Entrap Women in Personal Life (2007).

More from our blog: Can Christians set boundaries? · Letting go without giving up

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“I have looked into myself and I realize who you are to me and who you are not, so I take all of me back. I take my love back, my time back, my energy back, and my peace back. You no longer have a home in me.”Author unknown

Sometimes, reclaiming yourself begins with a quiet realization: you have spent so much time trying to understand another person that you have stopped listening to yourself.

You know their moods, their patterns, and the explanations they give. But when was the last time you asked yourself how you feel? What you need? What this connection is costing you?

Looking inward can bring painful clarity. You may recognize that you have been holding on to someone’s potential while struggling with the reality of how they treat you. You may discover that the relationship occupies more space in your thoughts than it contributes to your life.

That awareness gives you somewhere to begin.

Finding the Words for What You Are Reclaiming

“I take all of me back” is a powerful declaration, but its meaning becomes clearer when you get specific.

What do you want back?

Perhaps it is your Sunday mornings, once spent recovering from difficult conversations. Perhaps it is your ability to enjoy an evening without checking your phone. Perhaps you miss the confidence you once had in your own judgment.

Writing can help you name those losses and imagine what comes next. Take a blank page and begin each sentence with “I take back…”

Let the words be honest. You do not need to sound strong in every sentence. “I take back the part of me that is tired and needs care” belongs on the page, too.

Once you finish, choose one statement and give it a practical meaning. If you are reclaiming rest, what could you set aside tonight? If you are reclaiming your voice, where could you express a preference you usually suppress?

Your words become more powerful when you begin making room for them in your life.

You No Longer Have a Home in Me

Some people continue to occupy our inner lives long after a conversation ends or a relationship changes. We imagine their reactions to our decisions. We hear their criticism when we look in the mirror. We carry unfinished arguments into otherwise peaceful moments.

The words “You no longer have a home in me” express a desire to change that relationship within ourselves.

An unsent letter can help you explore what that means. Imagine your inner life as a house. What has this person left behind? What have you kept waiting by the door? What would you like to welcome into the space?

You might write:

Allow the letter to hold whatever comes up. Anger may sit beside affection. Relief may arrive with grief. You do not need to resolve every feeling before putting down the pen.

The purpose is to hear yourself without preparing your words for someone else’s approval.

Protecting the Peace You Are Reclaiming

Clarity can feel strong in the moment and fragile the next morning. An unexpected message, an old photograph, or a lonely evening may pull your attention back.

Begin by noticing the habits that keep reopening the same questions. Do you check their social media when you feel uncertain? Do you reread messages hoping to find a different meaning? Do you interrupt your day whenever their name appears on your phone?

Choose one pattern to change. You might mute an account, move photographs out of everyday view, or review nonurgent messages at a time you choose. Keep any records you need, while giving yourself some distance from repeatedly revisiting them.

When ongoing communication is necessary, give it a clear purpose. A practical question can receive a practical answer. You can confirm a time or address a shared responsibility without explaining your entire emotional experience.

A message such as “Pickup is confirmed for 3:00 p.m.” can be enough.

Boundaries become easier to follow when you know what you will do. “If this conversation becomes insulting, I will end the call” gives you a clear next step. So does “I will check nonurgent messages after work.”

You may feel uncomfortable as you practice. That discomfort deserves compassion; it does not automatically mean your boundary needs to disappear.

Making Room for Yourself Again

Reclaiming your energy also means deciding where you want it to go.

Perhaps you want to reconnect with a friend, return to prayer, cook something you enjoy, or finish a project you have neglected. Perhaps you need an evening with fewer demands.

Create a small place of rest—a chair by the window, a quiet corner, or a familiar walking route. Let it become somewhere you can pause without requiring yourself to solve the relationship.

Your thoughts may wander back. When they do, gently notice where you are: your feet on the ground, the air against your skin, the sounds around you. Peace does not require a perfectly quiet mind.

You can also write to the person you hope to become. Imagine yourself one year from now and ask: What helped you move forward? What did you learn to stop carrying? What do you enjoy about your life now?

Let the answers include ordinary things. A restful night. An unhurried meal. A decision made without fear of disapproval. These details can help you recognize progress when it begins to happen.

Coming Home to Yourself

There may be days when you miss the person whose place in your life you are changing. You may remember their kindness or wish they could have met you differently. Those feelings can exist alongside everything you have learned.

Taking yourself back is a practice you return to: keeping a promise to yourself, honoring a limit, allowing rest, and giving attention to the people and experiences that nourish you.

Over time, you may notice that your life feels less occupied by waiting. There is room for curiosity again. There is room to make plans.

And the words begin to mean something you can feel:

This article is for general education and isn’t a substitute for professional care. If you’re in crisis, call or text 988, or call 911. If a relationship involves threats, control or harm, your safety comes first: the National Domestic Violence Hotline is available 24/7 at 1-800-799-7233.

More from our blog: Letting go without giving up · Can Christians set boundaries? · Coercive control and Christian marriage

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