Protection That Became a Prison
- Kimi Nettuno
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
When Protection No Longer Protects
In the first reflection, we began to notice something quietly true: we often resist the very things we long for most. Not because we have lost our “very goodness,” but because parts of us have learned to protect it - to hide from it (Genesis 3:8).
That awareness is important.
There is another layer we must gently name. What once protected us can, over time, begin to confine us. There is a subtle shift that happens when a pattern that once helped us survive no longer serves life. The guarding becomes constricting. The control becomes exhausting. The distance becomes lonely. The busyness that once felt necessary becomes a way of staying just far enough away from what is deeper.
What once shielded us begins, slowly, to keep us from being touched.
How Protection Becomes a Prison
Protection rarely feels like a problem at first. It feels familiar, even responsible. Staying busy can look productive. Staying guarded can feel wise. Staying in control can seem like strength. Emotional distance can feel like stability.
But beneath the surface, something begins to change.
The same pattern that once kept you from being hurt now also keeps you from being known. The instinct that helped you avoid disappointment now limits your capacity to receive joy. The vigilance that once protected you now keeps your body from ever fully resting.
The door you closed to keep pain out has also kept love from entering fully.
The Interior Experience of Confinement
Over time, this can create a quiet sense of circling within us. The same reactions return. The same tensions rise in the body. The same patterns show up in relationships. Gradually, a belief forms beneath it all: This is just who I am.
But what if it is not who you are?
What if it is where you learned to live?
The spiritual life is not a straight path forward. It is more like a continuous return, in which we encounter the same interior spaces again and again. Not because we are failing, but because something there is still waiting to be met by God. What feels like repetition may actually be an invitation.
Why We Remain There
If these patterns limit us, why do we stay?
Because they are familiar, and familiarity often feels safer than freedom. Freedom asks something of us. It asks us to soften where we have been braced, to trust where we have been guarded, to remain present where we once escaped. It asks us to feel what we have spent years avoiding.
There is no shame in this - only truth.
A Witness: Learning to Stay
This Lent, I chose to embody mourning in my prayer, walking with the Beatitude: “Blessed are those who mourn.” As I stayed with this practice, one grace gently revealed itself. I began to see how much of my life had been shaped by busyness, not simply out of responsibility but as a way of avoiding grief or sadness. It was a nervous system pattern that continuously pulled me away from feeling deeply.
It was not something I had consciously chosen. It was something I had learned within the body as a protective tool, and the body always remembers! No matter how much the mind tries to make sense of it, justify it, rationalize through it. The body, in its Creative Wisdom, learned a protective tool that has now patterned itself into your behavior, which is no longer protective but rather inhibitive.
Now, I find myself trying something new. When I notice the impulse to move past what is heavy or uncomfortable, I pause - just for a moment or two longer than I normally would. This is not in any way to fix this response, nor to analyze it, but to remain in it.
This is new ground for me; my body must relearn that it is safe and comforted, as the beatitude promises (Matthew 5:4). A reality that, although not safe in its origin, now holds a longing that God holds for all - freedom, love, and release.
How Christ Meets Us Within It
Christ does not wait for us to dismantle these patterns before He draws near. He meets us within them. It is we who keep Him at arm’s length. Again and again in the Gospels, He moves toward what is bound, hidden, or avoided. He does not begin with correction. He begins with presence and conversation, building a trusting, safe relationship within the bounds that are hidden or avoided.
He meets the one who wandered. He meets the one who stayed but hardened. He meets the one who hid.
He meets us there. Not outside the walls, but within them.
The Beginning of Freedom
Freedom does not begin when the pattern disappears. Please know that the pattern most likely will never fully disappear, and there is great freedom in that for me. For I have learned, and long to pass forward, it begins when we see it clearly and choose, even briefly, to remain present rather than turn away.
We begin to notice: here is where I guard, where I control, where I withdraw. Instead of judging ourselves, we stay. We allow Christ to meet us in the very place we would usually avoid. That is where something begins to open, not through force, but through encounter.
Embodied Prayer Practice: Noticing the Walls
Sit quietly and bring your attention to your body. Notice where you feel tension, bracing, or holding. Without trying to change anything, become aware.
Gently ask, “What is this part of me trying to protect?”
Stay with the sensation. Breathe slowly. Let your body begin to experience that it is not alone. When safe, the body will always teach us how to encounter healing.
The Spirit of Christ dwells in this encounter; allow Him to approach you.
After a few moments, open your journal and begin listening to the Spirit’s wisdom within you.
Journaling Prompt: Naming the Pattern
What pattern in my life once protected me but now feels limiting?
Where do I sense I am living in something familiar, but no longer free?
From the garden within me to the garden within you, where God awaits,
Kimi
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