What Does “Being With” Even Mean?
“Being with.”
It’s a phrase I return to often in my own life, and something I invite into the therapy room again and again. Not because it’s easy or obvious (it isn’t), but because it matters.
For so many of us, the instinct when something painful or uncomfortable surfaces is to move away from it: fix it, explain it, outwork it, or distract ourselves until it passes. Our nervous systems are wired to protect us, and those strategies often did keep us safe at one point. The trouble is, what once worked can start to feel heavy, outdated, or clunky in this season of life.
Turning Toward Instead of Away
Being with is about gently turning toward what’s happening inside, rather than stepping over it or shutting it down. Not to analyse it or make it go away, but simply to notice and stay.
It might sound like:
“I can feel something tightening in my chest.”
“Ah, that makes sense you’d be here.”
“I can be with this, even if it’s uncomfortable.”
This is what Richard Schwartz, founder of Internal Family Systems, means when he says our triggers are trailheads. Each one is an opening into the part of us that most needs care in that moment.
The Slow Work of Safety
Safety isn’t about never feeling distress again. It’s about showing our systems, little by little, that we can survive the wave without bracing so hard.
Often this begins in very small, embodied ways:
Letting your eyes wander around the room until they land on something steady or comforting.
Placing a hand over your heart or collarbone and noticing warmth under your palm.
Taking one slower breath, lengthening the exhale just a touch.
Shifting your body—standing, swaying, stretching—when you feel frozen in place.
These little practices aren’t about “fixing” anything. They’re reminders to your nervous system that you are here, and you are safe enough in this moment.
And as you repeat them, you begin to build new pathways. Less like one big transformation and more like a glacial pace of small, repeated steps: pausing long enough to notice, softening for a breath, catching the moment when perfectionism wants to take over and saying, “I see you. We don’t have to do it that way anymore.”
From Implicit to Explicit
So much of what drives us runs in the background, unspoken and unseen. The process of therapy is often about bringing those implicit patterns into the light—naming them with compassion, appreciating where they came from, and then gently interrupting them when it’s safe to do so.
For me, being with is what allows this shift. It’s not about forcing change or overriding old habits. It’s about sitting beside the parts of us that have been working so hard, offering curiosity instead of judgement, and letting them know they no longer have to carry it all.
An Attachment Lens
From an attachment perspective, this work can feel especially tender. Many of us learned early on that we had to trade pieces of our authenticity—our feelings, impulses, even needs—in order to maintain closeness with the people we depended on. Our nervous systems decided that attachment was more important than authenticity, and our parts took on protective roles to make sure we didn’t lose connection.
Being with, then, becomes a way of offering ourselves what we didn’t get back then: a steady, compassionate presence that says, “I see you. I’m not leaving.” In Internal Family Systems, Self becomes the secure base for our inner system. We begin to re-parent those younger parts, offering them the kind of attunement and safety that makes space for authenticity to emerge again.
Why This Matters
I share this not as an expert holding the answers, but as someone who is also learning to notice when I slip back into familiar grooves. I still catch myself taking the old path. And when I can pause long enough, I get to choose something different: to anchor into the steadiness of my adult self, to breathe, to repair, to try again.
That’s what being with means to me. Not being overwhelmed by what’s there, not pushing it away, but meeting it with as much curiosity and compassion as I can. And over time, those small, imperfect moments of presence add up to real, sustainable change.
Looking Ahead
I’ve been dreaming into ways of supporting this work beyond the therapy room. Because integration is medicine, I’m in the planning stages of creating resources here on my site—gentle, experiential invitations to help you weave these insights into daily life. Whether you’re between sessions or not in therapy at all right now, these practices will be designed to offer accessible ways of “being with” yourself in real time.
My hope is that these resources can become companions—steady touchstones you can return to, reminding you that change doesn’t come from force, but from small, safe steps taken again and again.