Meeting the Parts of Ourselves

Have you ever felt like part of you wants one thing while another part wants the exact opposite?

Part of you wants to leave the relationship. Part of you desperately wants to stay. Part of you knows you're safe. Part of you feels terrified. Part of you wants to speak up. Part of you would rather keep the peace. Part of you knows your worth. Part of you is convinced you'll be abandoned if you ask for what you need.

If so, you're not crazy. You're human.

One of the things I love most about therapy is helping clients understand that we are not one single, unified voice. We are made up of many different parts, each with their own experiences, fears, jobs, and stories.

This is why I love parts work.

Whether you know it as Internal Family Systems (IFS), inner child work, ego states, or simply “the different versions of me,” I've found that many clients benefit from exploring the parts that make up who they are.

I often blend Fraser's Table technique with IFS and parts work, creating a space where clients can meet, understand, and ultimately care for the various parts of themselves.

We start by identifying the parts.

The younger self. The work self. The parent self. The protector. The people-pleaser. The perfectionist. The anxious self. The angry self. The part that wants to run. The part that wants to stay.

We give them names. We notice how old they are. We explore where they live in the body. We notice what happens when they show up.

And then something beautiful happens:

We stop fighting them.

Many clients arrive angry at their parts. They hate the anxious part. They're embarrassed by the needy part. They're exhausted by the part that keeps choosing the same unhealthy relationships.

But parts work invites a different question:

What if these parts aren't the problem?

What if they're actually trying to protect you?

What if they've simply been carrying jobs they were never meant to carry forever?

Together, we create a meeting place for all of the parts.

Sometimes it's a beach bonfire. Sometimes a cabin in the woods. A river. A sports bar. A round table inside a castle. I've even had a client whose parts met on toadstools in an enchanted forest that felt like it belonged in a Studio Ghibli film.

The place can be real or imaginary.

What matters is that it feels safe—a place where everyone inside can finally sit down, breathe, and rest.

At the table, we ask:

Who is exhausted? Who is carrying too much? Who is angry? Who is protecting? Who needs support? Who needs permission to rest? Which parts haven't been heard in years?

And perhaps most importantly:

Which parts need love?

I find that many of our struggles aren't because we're broken.

They're because certain parts of us are stuck.

Stuck at a particular age.Stuck in an attachment wound.Stuck in a moment when they learned the world wasn't safe.

Someone can be wildly successful professionally. They can lead teams, manage companies, and navigate high-pressure environments with ease.

Yet they may struggle in intimate relationships.

The work self may be thriving while the relationship self is still carrying wounds from age twelve.

The boardroom self may be confident.

The pillow-talk self may be terrified.

Parts work helps us understand these discrepancies with compassion instead of shame.

Different parts developed different skills at different times. Once we understand them, we can begin to help them.

We can update them.We can reassure them.We can tell them they're no longer alone.

The goal isn't to eliminate parts.

It's integration.

The anxious part doesn't disappear.The younger part doesn't vanish.The protective part

doesn't retire.

Instead, they begin working together.

The table becomes less chaotic.The parts begin to trust one another.And beneath all the noise, clients often discover a wiser, calmer self capable of leading the conversation.

Do I have parts?

I certainly do.

I talk about this with my own therapist as well—much younger parts, in fact. And just like my clients, it can be hard to allow those parts to have needs or to give them what they require in order to heal.

But when I do, I feel more grounded, more integrated, and more at ease.

To me, parts work is magical, playful, meaningful, and deeply healing.

After all, dear friend, if you're going to spend a lifetime with yourself, it helps if everyone inside finally gets a seat at the table.

From my clinical part,

Mandy