Never settle for the path of least resistance. Or do. Wait, what?

I’ve recently noticed a pesky entrenched belief that motherhood has made worse: If I’m not suffering, I’m not doing it right.

It’s like, if I’m not giving my kids every ounce of my energy, or if I get help from other people, or if I say no to something because it’s unpleasant or I don’t want to do it, then I’ve stopped short of giving my all.

Here’s how it plays out:

Not giving my all = not brushing up against pain and struggle (or at least discomfort) = not doing enough.

Sometimes that translates into I’m not enough/I’m a failure; it depends on the day. But bottom line, it does not equal victory, success, and well, doing it right.

I could intellectually argue with this equation. I’ve also done a lot of work to not be crippled by it. But I continue to be confused by the whole darn thing, and I don’t think I’m alone.

In Eastern thought, a lot about our culture could be called “yang” (as in yin and yang). Masculine energy has long been predominant. There’s an intensity and forcefulness that’s prized: No pain, no gain. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Never take the easy way out. Get out of your comfort zone. Go hard or go home. Always give 100 percent (at least!). Take the bull by the horns.

We’ve learned and tend to deeply believe that wading through pain and resistance is how we get the fruit. It’s what we’re supposed to do: Grit your teeth and muscle through. That’s doing it right.

The first time someone flipped this on me was when I was in college. I was meeting with a career counselor while trying to decide on a major.

“I’ve decided I should apply to the business school,” I told him, “I’ll have to suffer through accounting and finance, but it’s practical.”

“Hold on,” he stopped me, “if ‘suffering through’ is how you describe that path, then it’s not for you.”

I was dumbfounded and relieved, but I’ve continued to assume that discomfort is the way to go.

Tami Simon talked about this in a podcast with Saje Dyer, author and daughter of the late Wayne Dyer, who was an internationally renowned self-help bestseller.

On “Insights at the Edge,” Dyer spoke of her father’s reaction to the song “I Hope You Dance,” by Lee Ann Womack. It’s full of beautiful lyrics:

“I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean.

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens.

Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance.

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.”

Dyer recalled how her father agreed with the entire song, except for one line: “Never settle for the path of least resistance.”

He told his daughter you should always take the path of least resistance. He said resistance is life saying you may be going down the wrong path. He urged her to go toward what flows, toward what doesn’t feel like strain, tension and opposition.

The discussion was a beautiful extrapolation of exactly what my counselor had said, and I love the sentiment. But certainly not all resistance is bad. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have done half the things I’m proud of I’m in my life. Overdoing yin can’t be the answer.

They alluded to that in their conversation but didn’t spell it out. I apparently need this spelled out.

If leaning in is good sometimes, how do you know when to press forward? When is resistance worth wading through verses being a flashing wrong-way light? How do you find the balance?

I’m still chewing on this, but here’s what I’ve got so far.

First, gleaning clarity requires putting all outside expectations, internal guilt trips and “shoulds” aside. It’s important to identify and extract the pressures that cloud our ability to discern. Then, with that out of the way, we can tune into what feels right in our bodies.

It’s like when my friend was trying to decide if she would continue nursing her baby. She had to put other people’s input and even her own “tsk tsk” voice out of the picture. Then, she could get a sense in her mind and body for how different options felt.

Nursing felt like tension, exhaustion, strain. It erred toward suffering. Switching to formula felt lighter. Like a relief. Her answer was clear.

Martha Beck has been writing bestselling books about this kind of stuff for decades. She says that combing through heavier resistance can be appropriate when it’s linked with something we really want.

That was absent in my business school scenario, but it comes up in a big way with my daughter. She has a swallowing disorder and a feeding tube. Roughly 95 percent of her nutrition goes through a surgically implanted port in her stomach.

Beyond feeding her through the tube, we are trying our darndest to teach her how to eat. It’s an uphill battle. So far, we’ve done two monthlong stints at a special feeding hospital in Dallas, and we literally spend hours every day on oral motor therapy, practice meals, tube feeding, etc. It’s intense — the path that has been full of challenges, and I’ve felt all kinds of resistance.

But at least for this moment, I think we’re on the right path because there’s something here that I really want — something I long for: giving my daughter the possibility to be able to eat and enjoy food down the line. Despite all the resistance along the way, when I play out that outcome, my body settles. I exhale, my shoulders relax. It’s hard to explain, but it feels like, sigh … yes, that.

Yoga and meditation are really helpful for getting more connected with the truth that’s in our bodies, but it’s as simple as noticing how we physically feel. Our bodies affirm paths and outcomes with feel-good sensations like warmth, expansion, relaxation, softness, openness, settling. The opposite can be useful to recognize, too: tense, hunched, strained, tight, holding breath — these are noes. Such sensations can be intense or extremely subtle, but they’re powerful indicators when we know to tune in.

I can think of past relationships that were full of resistance and longing, but I didn’t realize at the time that my body was saying no. I remember thinking, “I’m hanging on by a thread.” That’s how my body felt, like gripping, all the time. Eventually, I got the message.

This stuff is not black and white. I’m still trying to make sense of how to balance the yin and the yang. How and when to push. How to not suffer, but still make progress, and not constantly second-guess.

I guess my main conclusion is that resistance is a yellow light. It means we could be approaching suffering (which is definitely a red light), so slow down and check in. Turn down the noise and tune into which possibility feels like a fit, then go forward with that.

In the end, I don’t know that there’s any such thing as “doing it right.” But I hope this may be helpful as we all keep trying.