Walk toward the darkness
Most of us have an instinctive reaction when pain arises: to move away from it. We distract, overwork, rationalise, or shut down all in an effort to escape emotions that feel too large or threatening. It’s an entirely human response. Our nervous systems are designed to protect us from danger, and sometimes, strong emotion feel like a threat
But what we often don’t realise is that the emotions we avoid don’t just go away. They wait quietly beneath the surface, shaping our reactions, our relationships, and even our sense of self. The harder we try not to feel something, the more it tends to find other ways to be known.
Walking toward the darkness is about doing the opposite of what our instincts tell us. It means turning toward what hurts instead of away from it. Rather than fighting or fixing our emotions, we begin to notice them. To give them breath. To listen.
When we allow space for sadness, anger, or fear without judgement or urgency they often change shape. Emotions that once felt like terrifying monsters can soften into something far smaller, often carrying messages about needs, boundaries, or unhealed grief. Beneath what feels unbearable is usually something quite human: a longing to be seen, soothed, or held.
This process isn’t about wallowing or becoming consumed by pain; it’s about integration. The parts of ourselves that have been exiled or hidden begin to return home when they are met with compassion. Over time, this deep acceptance builds emotional resilience the capacity to hold both the light and the dark without needing to split off one from the other.
Avoidance might offer short-term relief, but presence offers long-term freedom. When we can sit with discomfort, we discover that pain, too, can be a place of transformation.
Therapeutically, this approach invites us to move from control to curiosity. Instead of asking, “How do I stop feeling this?” we ask, “What is this feeling trying to show me?” In that space, emotion becomes information rather than an enemy — a guide rather than a threat.
To walk toward the darkness is not to be overtaken by it, but to see it for what it really is: an invitation into wholeness. When we stop resisting our inner experience, we often find that the darkness itself begins to lighten — not because it disappears, but because we learn how to carry it with compassion and grace.