For over 15 years, I’ve heard therapists describe clients as resistant. I’ve heard it when a client doesn’t complete homework, avoids a topic, pushes back on a recommendation, cancels sessions, or disagrees with a treatment plan. I’ve become increasingly concerned about how quietly harmful that can be. Calling clients resistant often implies the client is intentionally blocking progress, as if they alone are the reason therapy isn’t working. That framing has always troubled me, because more often than not, what gets labeled “resistance” isn’t a client problem at all. I’ve found that it’s usually a relationship problem (between client(s) and therapist or in their interactions/dynamic), and often, it’s actually a therapist problem.
When therapists reach for the word resistance, attention subtly shifts away from what’s happening between two people in the room. The focus moves off the therapeutic relationship and onto what is supposedly wrong with the client. In the process, we can miss how the therapists’ own approach, assumptions, urgency, training, or unresolved countertransference might be shaping the moment. Once that happens, therapy can quietly drift away from curiosity and toward correction, and growth often stalls right there.
Origins of the “Resistant Client”
The idea of resistance comes from early psychoanalysis, when patients who hesitated to explore unconscious material were understood to be defending themselves against painful truths (Freud, 1912; 1914). Within Freud’s model, that made sense; people do protect themselves from emotional pain. The problem is that therapy has evolved significantly since then, while our language and the assumptions embedded in it have not always kept pace. The concept of resistance, when used uncritically, can water down complex relational dynamics into something overly individual and blame-focused (on clients).
Even when the term is used privately, such as in supervision, consultation, or progress notes, I believe it often carries a hidden message. It can imply that the client lacks motivation, that the therapist’s agenda is the correct one, and that the therapist’s approach is (always) fundamentally sound. In this resistance lens, client behavior begins to look like defiance rather than communication. Once a therapist starts viewing a client this way, it often leads to pushing harder or disengaging emotionally. I’ve seen this pattern repeatedly. Therapist curiosity often diminishes, flexibility narrows, and the work becomes pressured instead of collaborative. Ironically, this often intensifies the very behaviors being labeled. When clients feel misunderstood or rushed, they tend to shut down, not because they are resistant, I believe, but because they are usually protecting themselves.
A Fresh Perspective on the “Resistant Client”
What if what we are calling resistance is often a form of protection? In my 15 years of experience, clients don’t avoid topics because they want to sabotage therapy. They often avoid them because avoidance has helped them survive emotionally. They may be pacing themselves, testing how safe the therapeutic space feels, preserving dignity, or trying not to feel overwhelmed or judged. Avoidance is not empty behavior; it is information and communication. It often reflects wisdom shaped by experience. When a client hesitates, it may be because not enough trust has been established yet, the pacing feels too fast, the topic threatens an important identity or relationship, or the client is unsure how well their therapist truly understands them. Seen this way, I think what looks like resistance is often healthy self-protection. I have seen repeatedly that when a therapist labels a client as resistant, it literally makes them (more) resistant!
Therapists are not neutral observers in these moments. Every interaction is shaped by the questions we ask, the expressions we make, the assumptions we hold, and the urgency or patience we convey. The alliance we build, or fail to build, becomes even more fundamental and relevant. When a client pulls back, the most useful questions are often not about why they are resisting, but about what might feel risky right now, what the behavior is trying to communicate, whether we as therapists are leading clients somewhere they are not ready to go, or whether our agenda has begun to overshadow their goals. The most compassionate stance is not “Why are you resisting?” but “How can I meet you more effectively in this moment?”
When therapists drop labels of resistance, I find that something important shifts. There is more respect for a client’s pacing, greater openness to feedback, and a deeper understanding of attachment wounds and relational safety. Treatment planning becomes more collaborative, and clients often feel more empowered to engage. Progress frequently accelerates when clients experience themselves as having a real voice in the process. Therapists may be experts in the structure and process of therapy, but clients are experts in their own lives. As my colleague, friend, and mentor Dr. April Minjarez puts it, “therapy works best when it is therapist-led and simultaneously client-centered.”
Conclusion
What often gets called resistance tends to soften when therapists slow down, listen differently, or adjust their approach. The change usually isn’t in the client; it’s in the relationship. Therapy is co-created, whether we acknowledge it or not. When therapists take responsibility for their half of the dynamic, clients often feel less like they need to defend themselves, particularly against assumptions they sense but may not be able to name.
I believe clients are usually not resisting us; I find they are usually protecting themselves. Our job is to earn safety gradually enough that less protection is required. As Dr. Susan Johnson has noted in Emotionally Focused Therapy, “when defenses are understood and appreciated rather than challenged, they’re better positioned to disarm on their own.”
