Everyday IFS & the Self-to-Part Relationship

The authentic, ongoing relationship with our parts is not hard labor, and it certainly extends far beyond what takes place in therapeutic sessions. IFS, which cultivates the Self-to-part relationship, can be playful and spontaneous, easing the way we cope with ordinary challenges on a daily basis. Once we have gotten to know even a few of our parts, and have helped them to feel safer and happier, we will naturally find ourselves checking in with them whenever we sense their presence in our everyday lives. We can consult and rely on their expertise in certain areas, and we can support and encourage them when troubling situations arise. 

Here are a few examples from my own experience:

1) Due to a history of illnesses and surgery involving my throat, I can have a lot of difficulty swallowing pills. This alarms parts of me that have been associated with past choking incidents. Sometimes, however, when I have a pill in my mouth, I hear a little voice in my head saying, “Ready!”—and if I just trust and swallow at that moment the pill will go down easily. Checking inside, I discovered that the voice comes from a six-year-old part named “Swallow.” My family went on a long car trip when I was six, and while we were on the road I had to take a motion-sickness pill crushed up in grape jelly every morning. Since I hated the taste, this plucky part demonstrated that he could swallow the whole pill with water instead. As I got older, Swallow continued to be proud of his ability to take medicine the grown-up way, and now, when I need him, he steps forward. I’ve learned that I must be sure Swallow does the swallowing instead of some other part. I listen for his hearty, “Ready!” and can distinguish it from the tentative, getting-it-over-with “ready?” of my parts who are afraid of choking. I remind those other parts that they don’t have to help with this, and they are relieved. We never choke when Swallow is on the job. I’ve started calling him in to help with all kinds of situations I find “hard to swallow.” He likes to be acknowledged for his specialized skills and abilities, and has an unflappable confidence that is otherwise in short supply within me, so when he shows up, my other parts immediately feel safer.

2) Recently, I got a very annoying email. A wave of furious impatience and discouragement flooded me at the prospect of having to reply. Instead of just forcing myself to be polite (which would have meant an inner manager was over-riding the feelings of some fiercely reactive firefighters), I sat myself down and invited any concerned parts to share their opinions. Immediately, several protectors spoke up. One part did not want to have to sustain a relationship with someone as difficult as the email-writer; another believed that human beings in general are just exhausting and annoying, so we might as well give up and become a hermit; yet another part felt resentful because I had made a big effort, and the email-writer was complaining without offering to do any of the work; a fourth part feared that the other three parts would taint my future interactions with my community. These four vented and fussed for a while. Once they all felt heard by me (if not necessarily by each other), I thanked them and asked them if they’d be willing to let me handle it. They all agreed, since I seemed to know what I was doing. I invited one of my Self-led managers to write a genuinely courteous and patient response to the email-writer, which was not difficult at all because there weren’t any unhappy parts shouting objections. Those unhappy parts now trusted that their concerns were being taken into consideration, so they no longer needed to gripe. It turned out, of course, that the email-writer’s intentions were good (though their own parts had apparently been tired and a bit cranky), and our relationship got friendlier once our “better Selves” took over.

3) I had a dentist appointment coming up, and was getting increasingly fearful and agitated because past dentist appointments have been associated with some catastrophic events in my life. On the morning of the appointment, I was full of dread. I took a walk to ease the stress, and spontaneously asked my parts: “Is there anyone here who doesn’t like going to the dentist?” It wasn’t a real question, because I was pretty certain I knew the answer. Sure enough, I had an image of a vast crowd of little parts, all with raised hands and worried faces. I told them, “Well, you don’t have to go. You can all go to the beach today while I’m at the dentist.” There was a big cheer, and a mad dash to gather beach towels and sand pails and picnic lunches. But when they’d all gone happily to the beach, one little part remained. She looked up at me and said, “I like the dentist. I like having clean teeth. And once, Mom bought me a harmonica after I had to get a filling.” This little one wanted to go to the dentist with me, and I was surprised that two others came along for the appointment as well: first there was Swallow, who wanted to demonstrate how grown-up we are (and to be on hand in case I needed to swallow anything); and then there was a nerdy kid who was fascinated by the dental instruments, x-rays, and fun facts the hygienist had to tell us about teeth. Of course, the hygienist thought she was dealing with a cheerful 64-year-old, when in fact she had a chair full of parts, and a very relaxed Self-led adult who was enjoying their company. The young parts at the appointment weren’t worried about pain, shame, costs, or crises, and the one who actually did the talking and handed over the credit card was the adult. It really was nice to have clean teeth, and I didn’t even have to buy myself a harmonica to make this dentist appointment endurable! I thanked my young friends for their good behavior by playing VR games with them for a while before sending them off to the beach to join the others.

Clearly, there’s more to everyday IFS than “working on yourself.” Even if you’re in therapy, the therapeutic “work” is just another everyday experience. Therapy, like life, isn’t always hard, and shouldn’t have to be deadly serious. Relating to our parts isn’t a chore—it’s natural, and we do it all the time, whether we’re aware of it or not. And going to a therapist or IFS practitioner could be a bit like going to the dentist (but in a good way): the parts who show up are those who have something to offer or something to express, something to learn or something to heal. They’re also parts who might actually enjoy themselves, or at least feel loved and supported. Anyway, the parts who aren’t ready to “relate” don’t have to be there—they can go to the beach!