When something feels too hard, what do you do? Turn and run? Pretend it’s not there? Fight against it, hoping it will disappear? Or lean in and embrace it?

If it’s the latter, there’s usually a period of resistance before the embracing begins. That pull to turn away is powerful – and very human.

In therapy, avoidance can almost look like a “superpower.” Children (and, if we’re honest, adults too) find incredibly creative ways to sidestep the tricky wonderings a therapist brings into the room. It might look like suddenly starting a game, changing the subject, talking non-stop so there’s no space for anything else, turning up the volume so no one else can be heard, or perhaps shutting down completely.

Avoidance works. At least in the short term. It protects us from feelings that are too big, too overwhelming, or too close to shame. And yet, there’s a quiet truth that sits underneath it all: when we gently face the things that feel big and intimidating, they begin to lose some of their power. Still, avoiding them often feels far easier.

In play therapy and DDP sessions, avoidance is not something to battle against. Instead, it’s something to understand. When a child avoids a topic or a reflection, they are showing us that, right now, it feels too much. Acceptance and empathy (two key elements of PACE) allow the child to feel met exactly where they are.

This can sometimes feel uncomfortable for the therapist too. It might even feel like avoidance on our part. And sometimes, it might be. If we never go near the difficult feelings, how can we expect the child to?

But more often, this is about attunement. Children need to feel safe before they can begin to process what feels overwhelming. If they are pushed too quickly out of their comfort zone, they are likely to retreat further, perhaps shutting down or disengaging altogether. When a therapist can gently acknowledge, “this feels too big today,” something important begins to grow. Trust.

Over time, that trust creates the conditions for change. The child starts to learn that those big, confusing, or shame-filled feelings can be shared – and that they will still be accepted. Still be understood. Still be safe.

This work is delicate. It asks the therapist to constantly notice: is this a moment to gently step closer, or a moment to step back? To test the water, or to simply sit beside?

And then there’s the wider rhythm of therapy itself. Progress is rarely linear. One week may hold deep, meaningful conversations, and the next may feel like nothing moves at all. But this isn’t failure – it’s regulation. After stretching their window of tolerance, a child often needs time to settle before they can stretch again.

It’s a slow, relational dance.

And perhaps the real invitation here is not to eliminate avoidance, but to understand it. To see it as a form of protection, not resistance. To respect it, rather than rush past it.

Because when avoidance is met with curiosity instead of pressure, it softens. And in that softening, something new becomes possible – not forced, not rushed, but ready.

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Avoidance: The Sneaky Superpower

Listening Beyond the Silence