“I know I can stand up for myself. I know exactly what to say. I’ve practiced it in front of the mirror a thousand times!” Carrie said.
“But when it comes to actually doing it, something stops me,” she added, sighing.
In this made-up example, I’m the therapist, and I say to Carrie, “What do you think is stopping you, Carrie?”
“I don’t know,” is the usual reply.
“I imagine you don’t because the reasons are usually out of conscious awareness,” I answer, “But do this: Make room in your head for something else to pop in. Usually, our heads are full of chatter. We think about our to-do list and the latest conversation with someone who upset us, and more. Clear some space for something else.”
That alone is difficult for many people, Carrie included.
Or at least, it was for her once, but now that she’s been practicing doing exactly that, it comes more easily.
Carrie can visualize all the emotions taking a seat a few feet away from her and all the other chatter in her head getting paused. She breathes in and out, slowly, enjoying the space that she creates with each breath.
She opens her eyes and looks right at me, a note of puzzlement in her voice as if she’s been given a sacred message that needs interpretation.
“If I go forward and do what I have to do,” she says slowly, “then it will be dangerous.”
She lets these words hang in the air as she allows herself to absorb them.
“What dangerous thing would happen,” I ask softly.
“My husband could get snarky,” she says slowly.
“What does he do when you hold back from fully expressing yourself?” I ask.
Carrie laughs, recognizing right away how silly this response is and replies, “He will get snarky no matter what I say.”
I give her space and time to absorb this truth, the truth that if he gets snarky either way, then speaking up shouldn’t be such a problem.
Then, I go into education-mode for a minute, explaining that sometimes our inner protectors (which people often call habits) want so badly to help us that they guide us into doing things that don’t make much sense. But they are kids themselves and they think like kids.
“Somewhere along the line, your protectors learned that holding back was safest. It does seem funny now, but maybe it wasn’t so funny back then,” I say.
“Can you tell me,” I ask, “where in your body do you feel that ‘holding back’ feeling? The feeling that keeps you from expressing yourself the way you’ve practiced?”
“In my legs,” Carrie answers immediately. She’s almost startled to reveal this because it was there all along, that feeling, but she never paid conscious attention to it.
“If that feeling could talk, what would it say,” I ask.
“Run! Run!” Carrie replied, her eyes looking way past me at something in the distance of time.
“What memories are coming up for you?” I ask.
“I was about 8 and these boys were crowded around me, maybe 5 or 6 of them. I knew they were up to no good. I knew that they wanted to hurt me. And I did not want to get beaten up. A voice inside told me to run. Another voice told me to tell them off, but I knew them; telling them off would not work – they’d just laugh and then beat me up anyway. So I ran. And when I stopped, I felt so safe.”
“I forgot that feeling, y’know?” Carrie adds.
“Sure you did. It was a long time ago,” I answer.
“At that time,” I ask further, “did you kind of make a pact with yourself of some sort?”
“Yeah,” Carrie replies, remembering. “I was so out of breath, but safe. I was a good runner!” she laughs. “So I told myself, ‘You can always run. You do not have to argue with stupid people and you’ll be safe that way.’”
There it was.
The obstacle behind everything.
“You know what?” I asked, “You need to thank your protector for doing this for you all these years. It only wanted you safe…”
“Yeah,” Carrie agrees and takes a few minutes internally.
She then looks up at me with bright eyes.
“Now, I’m wondering what your Self thinks of this arrangement,” I query.
You can call the Self our soul, our spirit or our neshama. It’s the leader of all of our parts (that is, habits, moods, sensations, patterns). Sometimes, it gets hidden, but in Carrie’s case, she’d worked already on discovering her Self – and its Voice. That’s why it had puzzled her so much that she still wasn’t expressing it.
Carrie went deeply into reflecting, allowing her Self to speak without the interference of protective parts. Finally, she said, “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense and it’s not worth it; it’s not safer at all.”
“Can you hold those two opposing thoughts at the same time?” I ask, “one that says you can run and it’s a lot safer than trying to talk to stupid people, and the other that says it isn’t safer at all because I’m still going to get met with snarky responses. And anyway, my partner isn’t stupid like those kids were.”
Carrie held out one hand, palm up with one thought, the one from childhood that was driving her today, and she held out the other hand, palm up, holding the other thought, the one from Self, realizing that running doesn’t work after all.
She looked to each “thought” in her hands, slowly repeating its message.
Her eyes teared up as he two thoughts collided against each other for a minute or two. Then she smiled.
“Self wins,” she said.
This exercise is just one part of the work I do in my programs and personal therapy. The Immersion Program includes psychoed (on videos that you get access to for a lifetime), twice-weekly group coaching with me, and intense therapy with a trained IFS (Internal Family Systems) therapist (or me). It’s a 4 month introduction to deep inner healing work and is followed by as many more months as you want and need.
The Coaching program is what’s above minus the intense therapy.
The programs are designed for either individuals or couples. They’re first of all to heal the past and second to get connected to yourself and your partner in an easy, relaxed, and joyous way. We also work on identifying triggers, designing affirmations that make the internal changes such as Carrie had, stick, and validating one another.
Reach out to me if this interests you.
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