Internal Family Systems Therapy for Shame and Guilt PDF

INTERNAL FAMILY SYSTEMS THERAPY FOR SHAME AND GUILT Also from Martha Sweezy Internal Family Systems Therapy, Second Edition Richard C. Schwartz and Martha Sweezy Internal Family Systems Therapy for Shame and Guilt Martha Sweezy Foreword by Richard C. Schwartz THE GUILFORD PRESS New York London Copyright © 2023 The Guilford Press A Division of Guilford Publications, Inc. 370 Seventh Avenue, Suite 1200, New York, NY 10001 www.guilford.com All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America This book is printed on acid-free paper. Last digit is print number: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 The author has checked with sources believed to be reliable in her efforts to provide information that is complete and generally in accord with the standards of practice that are accepted at the time of publication. However, in view of the possibility of human error or changes in behavioral, mental health, or medical sciences, neither the author, nor the editors and publisher, nor any other party who has been involved in the preparation or publication of this work warrants that the information contained herein is in every respect accurate or complete, and they are not responsible for any errors or omissions or the results obtained from the use of such information. Readers are encouraged to confirm the information contained in this book with other sources. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Sweezy, Martha, author. Title: Internal family systems therapy for shame and guilt / Martha Sweezy. Description: New York : The Guilford Press, | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022057886 | ISBN 9781462552467 (paperback) | ISBN 9781462552474 (cloth) Subjects: LCSH: Shame. | Family psychotherapy. Classification: LCC BF575.S45 S85 2023 | DDC 152.4/4—dc23/eng/20230415 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022057886 I dedicate this book to the next generation of psychotherapists, including my daughter, Theo Sweezy, and our dear young Swedish friend and colleague, Kristin Palme. I trust you will start where my generation leaves off and make your own great discoveries. I hope this book helps. About the Author Martha Sweezy, PhD, is Assistant Professor in Psychiatry at Harvard Medi- cal School, part-time, and Research, Training, and Curriculum Consultant at the Center for Mindfulness and Compassion, Cambridge Health Alli- ance, where she consults and is supervising in a study using Internal Fam- ily Systems (IFS) groups to treat posttraumatic stress disorder. She teaches on IFS, shame, and guilt nationally and internationally, and has a private psychotherapy practice. Dr. Sweezy has published articles in peer-reviewed journals and has coedited or coauthored several books and treatment man- uals on IFS. vii Foreword E ven before writing this book, Martha Sweezy had made great contribu- tions to Internal Family Systems (IFS; the therapy approach I developed that embraces psychic multiplicity as the norm) with her writing, editing, and teaching. Martha and I met in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 2005, when she attended one of my lectures on IFS. She received training in IFS right away, and we began collaborating (with Nancy Sowell and Larry Rosenberg) to teach IFS to staff and trainees in the Department of Psychia- try of the Cambridge Health Alliance (CHA), which serves an economi- cally, ethnically, racially, and diagnostically diverse population and has long been a national model for community mental health. We also started writing together. Most recently, we coauthored the foundational text Inter- nal Family Systems Therapy, Second Edition. We continue to write together and teach IFS at CHA, which I am proud to say has adopted IFS as one of its primary treatment modalities and which, with Zev Schuman-Olivier’s leadership, is conducting important research on IFS as a treatment for post- traumatic stress disorder. In this book, Martha focuses on what I believe is the most primal, terrifying, toxic, and motivating of all burdens: shame. Why is shame so powerful? Because when we feel shameful, we believe, at some level, that we are worthless. When we get the message in childhood that we are not treasured and loved by caretakers, we fear for our survival. Children are aware that their survival depends on being valuable to adults, and children who aren’t valued die every day all over the world. So children—and adults, too—will do anything to distract from, counter, or otherwise avoid the fate of being shameful. As Martha writes in Chapter 3, “Children can bear ix x F ore w ord bad things happening, but they don’t know how to bear the idea that they are bad. When a child accepts global condemnation of their worth, they’re doomed to go on and expend a preponderance of their psychic energy jus- tifying and trying to validate their existence. Adults who come to therapy are still doing this—or their parts are doing it.” Consider, for example, what depression, anxiety, unstable relational patterns, eating disorders, substance use problems, and other addictive processes such as overuse of pornography, gambling, and compulsive sexual risk taking all have in com- mon. Martha argues convincingly that shame or guilt are often at the heart of these problems and that therapy won’t be completely successful until those burdens are unloaded. Unpacking shame as a relational phenomenon, inside and out, she describes a self-perpetuating shame cycle. A vulnerable part is shamed. Proactive protectors try to improve or hide that part with more shaming. The vulnerable part feels worse. Reactive protectors resort to extreme behaviors to avoid that feeling of shamefulness. Their behaviors evoke more shaming by external others and also ongoing accusations about weakness, lack of willpower, and harm to others by those proactive mana- gerial protectors inside. Their shaming, in turn, increases the vulnerable part’s sense of worthlessness and unlovability and motivates more extreme reactive behavior, and so it goes. Meanwhile, proactive protectors shame us for other reasons as well. They want us to look perfect, perform at a high level, or, conversely, act small to avoid risks. They will trigger the sense of worthlessness deliberately so that we will try harder or withdraw more. In this way, protectors are constantly using shame as a tool to keep us safe. Guilt is another matter, and Martha clarifies the crucial differences between shame and guilt, as well as between adaptive and maladaptive guilt. After explaining and illustrating her nonpathologizing, empower- ing take on guilt and shame in the first half of the book, Martha tells us how we can heal from them in the second half. I’m happy and proud to report that her answer is IFS. To illustrate her points, she offers lucid case examples and experiential exercises that are tailored for resolving guilt and unburdening shame and that add nuance and insight to the basics of IFS. Martha’s beautiful explanations and illustrations show readers that IFS is well equipped to address these supercharged burdens. I’m grateful. And I’ll add that, as shame is a topic of global interest and IFS has become a global movement, I hope this book will grace the shelves of readers and thinkers all over the world. Richard C. Schwartz, PhD Developer of the IFS model Adjunct Faculty, Department of Psychiatry, Harvard Medical School Preface How This Book Can Simplify Your Job First, some things you don’t have to worry about. The client changing. In therapy, clients don’t need to be anywhere else or change who they are. They need to access resources that will make their bodies and minds habitable. Knowing more about your client than your client. You are equipped to ask the right kind of questions (open-ended, focused on motivation), and you can count on some part of the client hav- ing the relevant information to share when it’s ready and willing. Giving advice. In some situations, it may feel right to give advice—for example, if you have some information the client doesn’t have, or if they’re engaging in a dangerous behavior, such as fighting with their partner while one of them is driving a car, driving after drinking alcohol, or having risky, unprotected sex. But, in general, if a client needs to solve a problem, you can listen to their internal viewpoints and facilitate what I call unblending, which I explain and illustrate at length in this book. xi xii P ref a c e Hard work. Manager parts work hard, and therapist parts are hardworking man- agers. If you find yourself working, you may be siding with a client’s man- ager part and aggravating internal tensions. I’ll say more about all that later on. It’s more effective, as I illustrate, to be curious. Summary Boxes and Exercises for You and Your Clients Readers will find summary boxes and topic-specific exercises throughout. These can be photocopied or used as prompts for writing in a journal or on handy note paper. How This Book Can Help You Do Your Job Readers will learn to Address resistance effectively. Use hypotheticals to avoid power struggles that lead to therapeutic impasse. Redirect projections and guide safe internal inquiry. Promote kind internal relationships. Rescript traumatic experiences that leave the client feeling stuck in the past. Help clients be self-aware and practice self-compassion on a regular basis. If these options interest you, read on. Acknowledgments I thank, as always, my lifelong partner (we went to grade school together), Rob Postel, for his exceptional patience and support. I thank my clients who have taught me, generally with patience and good humor, how to be of help. I thank my friends Colleen Gillard and Sandy Wells for giving me pointers on how to write for publication many years ago. I started in the field of mental health in 1987, and this book is the sum of everything I’ve learned. I thank my dissertation advisor, Bob Shilkret, who introduced me to Control Mastery theory, and Professor Gerry Schamess, now gone, for his open heart, wisdom, good humor, and gift for listening. I thank the many remarkable teachers and colleagues I’ve learned from and with over many years. I’ll mention just a few by name, starting with my smart, generous, kind colleagues from the Cambridge Health Alliance (CHA): Matt Leeds (whom I also thank for reading this book and making valuable sugges- tions), Janna Smith, Nancy Blum, Nan Hellman, Wes Boyd, Linda H utton, Karsten Kueppenbender, and, though they’re gone now, Nina Masters and Les Havens. For the good company and good times learning Affect Phobia therapy, I thank Nat Kuhn and my fellow learners (in alphabetical order) Emily Bailey, Vida Kazemi, Jan Weathers, and Liz Zoob. For their support of Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy at CHA, I thank Jay Burke and Michael Williams. For their generous willingness to be on the team and teach IFS therapy at the CHA, either briefly or over the course of many years, I thank (in alphabetical order) the following: Jim Abrams, Carita Anderson, Melissa Coco, Mike Elkin, Fatimah Finney, Gail Hardenberg, Deb Haynor, Nicole Herschenhous, Lance Hicks, P riscilla Howell, Bridge Kiley, Norma Kisaiti, Mary Kruger, Barbara Levine, Dave Lovas, Paul xiii xiv Acknowledgments Neustadt, Brian Orr, Vanessa Peavy, Andrew Prokopis, Danielle Schuman- Olivier, Gary Simoneau, Hanna Soumerai, Leah Soumerai, Jill Stanzler- Katz, Joyce Sullivan, Mary Catherine Ward, and Annie Weiss. I thank Toni Herbine-Blank, Anne Hallward, and Gary Whited, the three who pre- sented a preconference day with me a few years ago on the topic of shame. I thank my Cambridge Hospital IFS research mates (in alphabetical order) Larry Rosenberg, Zev Schuman-Olivier, Dick Schwartz, Nancy Sowell, Hanna Soumerai, and Mary Catherine Ward. I thank Toni Herbine-Blank, Jory Agate, and Morgan Lindsey—my Shame Camp compatriots. I am always grateful to Dick Schwartz, the founder of IFS. Finally, a bow to the team at The Guilford Press. I’m grateful to Jane Keislar for her work on the manuscript; Elaine Kehoe for her help with copyediting; Laura Specht Patchkofsky for overseeing the book to its final form; Paul Gordon for the beautiful cover design; and Jim Nageotte, my editor, for his skillful guidance and warm, kind encouragement. Without his interest, this book would not be. Contents Introduction 1 SECTION I. The Vulnerable Mind 5 CHAPTER 1. Shame, Guilt, and Psychic Multiplicity 7 CHAPTER 2. The Goal 26 CHAPTER 3. All the Ways We Say No 38 CHAPTER 4. The Shame Cycle 54 CHAPTER 5. Empathy 72 CHAPTER 6. Shame-Based Trauma Bonding: 82 The Child Who Shares Shamefulness CHAPTER 7. Guilt-Based Trauma Bonding: 94 The Child Who Takes Responsibility xv xvi Contents SECTION II. Treatment 111 THE FIRST PORTION OF THERAPY CHAPTER 8. Set the Stage 115 CHAPTER 9. Unblend 143 CHAPTER 10. Navigate Obstacles to Unblending 170 THE SECOND PORTION OF THERAPY CHAPTER 11. Witness and Unburden 199 CHAPTER 12. Common Problems 217 CHAPTER 13. Take a Tip to Avoid Pitfalls 239 SECTION III. Completion 263 CHAPTER 14. How Therapy Ends 265 References 281 Index 285 INTERNAL FAMILY SYSTEMS THERAPY FOR SHAME AND GUILT Introduction T he more scientists dig into life— microbes, plants, invertebrates, vertebrates—the more they find systems and systems within systems. Recent findings on the human gut, for example, show bacteria, fungi, and parasites in the trillions living with us symbiotically and serving crucial functions. Human beings also create and participate in interdependent external systems such as families, work environments, schools, and places of worship. In addition to these physiological and external systems, our psyche hosts a complex social system. The premise of this book is that the psyche’s social system includes numerous separate centers of motivation (or, more colloquially, parts) with different points of view who communicate by way of feelings, sensations, and thoughts. In this light, we can understand the aftermath of trauma as a systemic response that brings many perspec- tives to the overriding goal of safety. For our purposes, the word trauma covers a broad spectrum of rela- tional experience, including everything from extremes that are obviously traumatic (childhood neglect, physical or sexual abuse, rape, war) to pri- vate experiences of invalidation, which others either might not notice or might not credit as formative. Whether intentional or not, trauma delivers the message that we’re unworthy and unacceptable. Once we agree, the problem is all ours. This book explores how shame in action inside the mind (shaming) transforms this kind of injury into an identity (the state of being shameful) and how to remedy this problem using Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy, which Richard Schwartz developed late in the 20th century based on the idea that the psyche is a system of independently moti- vated entities, or parts (Schwartz & Sweezy, 2020). 1 2 I ntrodu c tion The idea of the plural mind dates far back in the field of mental health and is not original to IFS. I would even say the whole project of psycho- therapy relies on the concept of more than one manifestation of conscious- ness—of the client being an observer as well as the observed. Sigmund Freud noticed psychic conflict and proposed three different minds, the I (ego), the it (id), and the above-I (superego). He was working in the late 19th century. Decades later, Marsha Linehan (1993), who developed dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), proposed an alternate model of three minds: emo- tion mind, reasonable mind, and wise mind. Many pioneers in the field of mental health who came along between these two clinicians conceived of a less aggregated, abstract plural mind, more along the lines of the model Schwartz developed, including Roberto Assagioli (1993), Carl Jung (1969), Fritz Perls and colleagues (1951), Helen and Jon Watkins (1997), and Hal and Sidra Stone (1993). Schwartz came to his view of the mind pragmatically, while working as a family therapist. Sticking close to his clients’ subjective experiences, he veered from orthodox family therapy views to develop a plural model of mind. In this model, it’s normal for a person to have what his clients called parts. By listening to them, Schwartz found that parts are like people. They have motives, feelings, and opinions and take on different roles within their system. His clients also spoke of their Self to describe a distinct phenom- enon of consciousness that differed from parts. In print, he chose the upper- case S to distinguish this form of consciousness as universal, in contrast to the lowercase-s self that signifies personal identity. In a balanced system, the Self leads the (theoretically infinite) community of parts. When this arrangement is disturbed, we suffer. Previous mental health trailblazers had also described a unique form of consciousness. Both Freud and Linehan proposed a self-observant, self- monitoring inner leader. Freud’s “above-I” (superego) was forbiddingly Vic- torian in comparison with Linehan’s “wise mind” (on loan from B uddhism), but both were posed as a universal resource that offered a bird’s-eye view of human affairs, just like the Self in IFS. After discovering the good effects of having access to this resource, Schwartz went to the library and discovered that all contemplative spiritual practices name some facsimile for the same concept. To mention just a few, in Buddhism it is Buddha mind, in Hindu- ism it is Atman, in Sufism it is the Beloved, and in Quakerism it is the Inner Light (Schwartz & Falconer, 2017). I wrote this book because I wanted to spell out the ways in which therapy that is based on the concept of a plural mind led me to numerous interactions with clients that challenged all of my prior assumptions about human motivation and behavior. Although I work with adults, I gradually came to the conclusion that my most important customers in therapy were children—younger iterations of the person sitting in front of me—and I talk I ntrodu c tion 3 a lot about child parts in this book. Although others have written about IFS therapy with children (Johnson & Schwartz, 2000; Krause, 2013; Mones, 2014; Spiegel, 2017), in this book we look at the child parts of adults. In the chapters to come, I show how we can heal from shame-related iden- tity injuries and release young parts from burdened bonds using treatment strategies that any mental health practitioner can learn to use. You need not be trained in IFS to understand my examples or follow my argument. SEC TION I The Vulnerable Mind I n this first section, I employ numerous scenes from therapy to illustrate a number of assertions about the mind and how it functions. Whether you agree with these assertions or not, I hope they—along with my illustrations—will capture your attention and enrich your own explorations. 5 CHAP T ER 1 Shame, Guilt, and Psychic Multiplicity P eople generally come through bad experiences with an important ques- tion: Why did this happen to me? They also have answers. Accordingly, I ask them to listen to what they’re hearing inside. Here is an example. Josie was a 30-year-old, cisgender, asexual, German-English American woman. An only child, she had gone through extreme trauma in childhood with her ferociously ambitious parents, who were revered leaders in their church and town. Josie’s mother, for example, attached her to a leash that led to a pole in the living room and forced her to spend hours practicing the violin after school and on weekends. If no one was nearby to release her, she went hungry and might urinate on herself. If Josie broke one of her mother’s arbitrary rules, she was left in the basement overnight to sleep on the floor. If she complained to her father, he hit her. She was not allowed to play with other children, watch television, or participate in sports. As expected, Josie attended a prestigious college and got into medical school, but she was unable to function there or in a workplace. She could not relate to peers or any person of authority. By the age of 27, she was living alone on disability in subsidized housing. At the time of this exchange, she had been in therapy just a few months. z Josie Asks Why Josie: Why me? Therapist: What do you hear when you ask that question? Josie: I’m bad. 7 8 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Therapist: One part of you wonders, Why me? and another part replies, You’re bad. Josie: Isn’t it true? Therapist: What do you hear? Josie: If you think you’re getting out of this, you little bitch, think again! If Josie heard something kinder when she wondered why her parents had tortured her, she would have needed less therapy. But her protective parts were as venomous as her parents. If I had challenged them by saying positive things about Josie, they would have tried to neutralize my inter- ference. Positive assertions, inside or out, require a receptive audience. As long as protectors remain at odds with each other and don’t know or trust the Self, they will veto hope and optimism vigorously. That doesn’t stop me from being optimistic out loud about a client’s prospects, but I don’t argue. Rather, I praise the good intentions and hard work of their protectors and suggest that their reasons for being pessimistic were completely valid in the past. Then I ask if they are willing to be scientists. Be skeptical, I say, but experiment. Hold us to a rigorous standard of honesty regarding results and try something new. As you will notice in this book, I speak with parts the way I speak with people. In that parts feel, think, and take on different roles in relation to each other, they are like people. At the same time, they’re not like peo- ple. They can transform at will, shift shape, appear and disappear, expand and contract. Their environment, the psyche, is not like the material envi- ronment. It is a nonmaterial multiverse that has no physical constraints. Although we often find parts in the body, they can also be outside the body. Their moment-to-moment transformations are the stuff of science fiction, fantasy novels, and the untamed imagination. And, of course, they routinely travel through time. Perhaps most important for our purposes, a part can take over men- tally and make us see the world through its eyes. Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy calls this blending. Bossy protective parts will take over, or blend, and say I am you to the client. The irony of having to insist I am you is lost on the part. But if it isn’t me, who is? When the blended part sepa- rates—or differentiates—both from other parts and from the Self (which IFS calls unblending), we suddenly see the world—and our parts—very differently. This is when clients speak of feeling as if they are now the real me, the true me, and so on. How much separation (by report from the cli- ent) is required to get this effect? Thirty percent seems sufficient, but 50% (or more) is better. The me who shows up when parts separate is the Self, which doesn’t feel like a part or even like all parts combined. The Self is a different manifestation of consciousness, an overarching phenomenon that S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 9 exists outside of and beyond parts. Because the level of blending by parts governs the client’s access to their Self, we can gauge both by asking, Out of 100%, how blended is this part? A specific number usually pops into the client’s head. We explore the concept of unblending at length in the chapters to come because it’s crucial to therapeutic success. For now, I’ll just say that some people view the brain as a receiver of various forms of consciousness, and I’m among them. But readers need not share this view. You can understand the concepts presented in this book, hear from your parts, and experience your Self without adhering to any particular theory about what’s going on. We all bring our beliefs about what we don’t know—and about what no one knows—to our experience. In any case, we are going to focus on exploring the roles of shame and guilt in psychic distress, starting from the premise that the mind is plural and includes this phenomenon we’re calling the Self. Shame and guilt are called the self-conscious emotions. Both feelings involve someone inside observing and blaming—shaming or guilting—and someone else inside feeling shameful or guilty. For a number of reasons, young children are exceptionally vulnerable to being shamed or guilted by external others. For one thing, they are radically innocent. Every experi- ence is new and open to interpretation once. For another, they are com- pletely dependent and highly attuned to adult caretakers. Shaming, which picks on specific characteristics of behavior or appearance, is news—bad news—for a child’s internal system about a member of the internal commu- nity or some feature of the body. When either a part or the body is shamed, other parts, who are often the same age or just slightly older, galvanize for action. They may report having sensed that something fundamental at the child’s core was under attack. They may say, for example, that the openhearted child invites predation, the curious child gets reprimanded, the brave one is a threat, the loud one is too much, the joyful one provokes censure, the compassionate one evokes fear, and the one who is unwanted must hide. Schwartz learned that some protective parts are intrepid first responders. They aim to protect the injured part. I follow his lead by calling them managers. Ironically, managers favor responding to shaming with shaming. To improve, inhibit, or hide the part who drew fire, manager parts tend to take authority by incorporating the shamer’s actions, thoughts, and feel- ings and becoming copycat shamers. Their shaming tends to be intentional, compulsive, and repetitive. They instruct the child, “Do be this; don’t be that.” They judge, admonish, frighten, and intimidate, or they overprotect and smother as a way of silencing. At either extreme, they drive vulnerable parts under rocks, up canyons, into cages, behind walls, and out of aware- ness. Following Schwartz again, I call these banished parts exiles. 10 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind All this shaming and condemnation by inner critics shocks the auto- nomic nervous system and scares the exiled parts, who feel shameful. In response, a second set of responders comes online to deflect, distract, soothe, and counteract their harshness. Schwartz called these parts fire- fighters. They are reactive protectors and, depending on what works best in the moment, they have many tactics to choose among. When less extreme, they focus on counterbalancing shoulds with wants. Take a break! Ride your bike, read, swim, paint a picture, play a game, sleep on the beach. Do something for the fun of it. But in extremity, firefighter parts will lead a person to drink, use drugs, have risky sex, look at porn compulsively, gamble, binge on sweets and fats, get mad, live in a virtual world, and so on. Along with a dismissive disregard for long-term consequences, their shameless, compulsive, impulsive behavior makes them look irrational. But in truth they’re just as goal-driven as shaming managers. Their activities signal that the managerial project has failed. The Road to Psychotherapy Is Paved with Impossible Responsibilities and Blame When a client tells their story at the outset of therapy, I listen for sham- ing and guilting, shamefulness and guiltiness. Here are four examples that illustrate a range of possibilities. z Mona: Jealousy, Adaptive Guilt, and Shaming Mona, a 34-year-old, cisgender, heterosexual, single, Czech American woman came to see me when she found herself envying her 4-year-old daughter, Mia. This envy began when Mona’s mother, Marlee, offered to take care of Mia while Mona went back to work as a lawyer. Because Mar- lee had been cold and critical when she was a child, Mona was reluctant to accept her help. But she had to earn money, and Mia seemed delighted with the idea. So she accepted Marlee’s help. As the arrangement succeeded over the next few months, Mona felt increasingly excluded and resentful of her daughter as well as her mother. Mona: What kind of person begrudges a little kid some fun? Therapist: What do you hear inside when you ask that question? Mona: A bad mother. A monster. Inner critics were guilting and shaming her: You DO wrong (guilting— refers to an action), so you ARE bad (shaming—refers to a state of being). This inner diatribe brought Mona to therapy. It was a good starting point S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 11 for our exploration. To orient Mona to the idea of parts, I cited this inner shaming. We can always start therapy safely with critical managers. They like to be noticed, and they want to go first. From my perspective, Mona’s guilt was adaptive because it warned her that she could harm her child emotionally if her jealous part stayed in control. This was an appropri- ate concern. However, the shaming (you are bad) was not adaptive. On the contrary, the shaming sparked a countervailing resentment and urge to blame her daughter, which reactivated her guilt and made it hard for her to seek help. z Alex: Not Belonging and Self‑Shaming Here is another example, this one involving shamefulness without guilt. Alex, a nonbinary, asexual, Asian American, came to therapy at 25 after years of crippling social anxiety. From grade school through college, sen- sory integration issues had caused Alex to shy away from groups of kids. Therapist: What brings you to therapy? Alex: (Shrugs.) I’m lonely. Therapist: Say more. Alex: I don’t belong. I never have. Therapist: Can you give me an example? Alex: When I moved here for a job last fall, I wanted to find roommates. But I just couldn’t imagine that working out. So I’m living alone and spending most of my salary on rent. Therapist: One part of you wanted to live with other people, but another part told you that couldn’t work, is that right? Alex: Yes. Therapist: What, specifically, do you hear about why it can’t work? Alex: Everyone despises you in the end. When other people were relaxing and having fun, Alex was shy and avoidant because their nervous system was painfully overstimulated. In response, some people (though not all) felt shunned and responded in kind. While Alex had parts who longed to be included socially and have friends, they also had a shaming part who wanted to keep them from reaching out and getting rejected. As we discovered over time, Alex was depressed as well as anxious. Their anxiety was the product of forward-looking protec- tion (you will be rejected), and their sense of oppression and depression were the product of backward-looking shaming (I have always been differ- ent and inadequate). For Alex, anxiety and depression were a package deal. 12 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind z Sharon: Impossible Choices and Maladaptive Guilt Sharon had to make a decision but had a reasonable expectation that either choice would lead to bad consequences. As a result, she felt guilty in advance of choosing. As you read about her dilemma, ask yourself if her guilt was adaptive or maladaptive. She was a 20-year-old, cisgender, heterosexual, Guatemalan American college student who had come to the United States from Guatemala at the age of 2 with her undocumented parents. Just as she began college, her parents were both deported back to Guatemala. Because she qualified as a “Dreamer,” she was able to stay and continue in school. Then her father had a stroke. Sharon: I’m so afraid for my parents. I don’t know what to do. Therapist: What are your options? Sharon: I could go to Guatemala. I grew up in Minneapolis. I don’t know what kind of job I could get. I haven’t finished college, and my Spanish is childish. If I go, I could never come back. I’d be in a foreign country permanently. I was planning to help them with money after college. But how can they be alone now? I don’t know what to do. Therapist: I hear this is a huge dilemma. Your parents need help and you want to be with them, but the cost of leaving the United States would be tremendous, possibly for them as well as you. Sharon: I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to regret this decision, but no matter what I do, I think I will. Sharon has no internal conflict over her relationship with her parents. She wants to protect them. She is comfortable with the idea of making sac- rifices for them, but she doesn’t know which sacrifice to make. Stay in the United States and hope they will survive long enough for her to send them money once she is working? Or leave to take care of them with scant means to earn money? Fearing harm to all of them, she feels guilty in advance of either decision. Because her guilt is understandable but not deserved, it is maladaptive. Though she—and her parents—have much to lose either way, her choice, whatever it is, will not be a transgression. z Harley: Parentification and Maladaptive Guilt In this example the maladaptive guilt is easy to spot. Harley, a 20-year- old, cisgender, heterosexual, English American, was gifted in computer science but was stalled professionally and personally after a difficult child- hood. His younger brother had died of brain cancer when he was 12. After his death, Harley’s father had spent more time at work and had started drinking with friends after work and on weekends. His mother S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 13 had become chronically depressed and spent much of the day in a dark- ened bedroom. When he was 17, Harley’s father drove off a bridge and drowned. Although the police ruled it a drunk driving accident, Harley thought it was suicide. His school counselor, who knew his mother was financially stable and had relatives nearby, urged him to apply to competi- tive colleges around the country and wanted him to accept when he was offered a good scholarship. Instead, Harley stayed home, went to a nearby community college with no scholarship, and worked while taking night classes. And at the end of 2 years, he got a full-time job as a computer tech in a large company. He came to therapy because his cousin was pressing him to reconsider finishing college. Harley’s Responsible Manager: I’m only here because Michael insisted. I didn’t want to disappoint him. Therapist: You didn’t want to disappoint him? Harley’s Responsible Manager: I don’t like to disappoint people. Therapist: What does Michael say? Harley’s Responsible Manager: He thinks I should finish college. Therapist: You don’t want to finish college? Harley’s Responsible Manager: No. I’d like to finish college. But I got a job. Therapist: So, one part of you would like to finish college, but another part wanted to get a job? Harley’s Responsible Manager: I thought I should get a job. Therapist: Another part thought you should get a job instead of finishing college. Harley’s Responsible Manager: Yes. Therapist: So, this is an internal argument? (Harley nods noncommit- tally.) And Michael agrees with the part who thinks you should finish college. Harley: I guess so. Therapist: What would the other part, the one who wants you to have a job, be concerned about if you finished college instead? Harley’s Responsible Manager: Nothing. [This answer is an evasion, probably by the guilty manager part who caused him to stay home and get a job.] Therapist: Let’s talk with both these parts. [When in doubt, convene a meeting.] Harley: Okay. 14 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Therapist: Can you see them? Harley: Yeah, sort of. They’re just two shadows standing a few feet apart. Therapist: Which of them needs your attention first? Harley: The one who wants to stay home is louder. Therapist: Stay home means keep your current job? (Harley nods.) How do you feel toward that part? [This Geiger-counter question, as I call it, measures Self-energy.] Harley’s Rebellious Part: I’m tired of him. Therapist: Would the part or parts who are tired of him be willing to step back so you can talk with him? Harley: That’s a funny idea. Therapist: Isn’t it? See if they’ll do it. Harley: Okay. Therapist: How do you feel toward him now? Harley’s Rebellious Part: I wish he’d go away. Therapist: Could I talk with him while you listen? (Harley nods.) Just let him talk through your mouth. I want to talk with the part who wants Harley to keep the job. Are you there? Harley’s Responsible Manager: Yes. Therapist: What are you concerned would happen to Harley if he went to college? Harley’s Responsible Manager: He’d never come back. Therapist: And what would be the problem with that? Harley’s Responsible Manager: She’d kill herself. Therapist: Who? Harley’s Responsible Manager: His mother. Therapist: She said that? Harley’s Responsible Manager: Yes. Therapist: And then what would happen? Harley’s Responsible Manager: He’d be responsible. Therapist: I see. I’m going to talk with Harley again, okay? (Harley nods.) Did you hear that, Harley? Harley: Yes. Therapist: How do you feel toward this part now? Harley: (Sighs.) That’s why I’m tired. Therapist: I understand. This part is worried and loud. And I bet the other part, the one who wants you to go to college, is also worried. What if we could help these parts so you could decide how to proceed? S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 15 Harley: Me? Therapist: Yes. You. The Harley-who’s-not-a-part. Harley’s Responsible Manager: I don’t know how to help anyone. Therapist: I know you feel that way now. This will help—if everyone is willing. Take a minute and listen inside. Harley: Okay. Real as the possibility may have been that Harley’s mother would act on her suicide threats (I had no way of assessing that), staying home with her was not his only option. He could talk with her about getting help, attend therapy with her, and generally take steps to prepare her so that he could pursue his own life. His anticipatory guilt—the warnings of a protective manager part—about the way she might react was maladaptive because pursuing normal developmental goals is not a transgression. Shame and Guilt The self-conscious emotions, shame and guilt, both generate negative self- referential judgments. Nonetheless, as Helen Block Lewis (1971), June Tangney and Rhonda Dearing (2002), Judith Lewis Herman (2015), and others have explained, we shouldn’t conflate the two. Guilt involves an assessment of behavior (I did wrong), whereas shame is a global assessment of value (I am... unworthy, defective, unlovable, etc.). Guilt generates concern for the injured other, along with the urge to repair the relationship. In contrast, shame—signifying an internal process in which one part does some shaming and another part feels shameful—leads to fear, hiding, and (reactively) rage. Feeling guilty about one’s behavior toward someone else and shaming oneself lead us in different directions. Guilt If I do something hurtful, I have transgressed, and guilt helps me to be active about approaching the other person and making a repair. We all transgress at times, more or less egregiously, and guilt is the appropriate and adap- tive (positive, constructive, reconnecting, growth-producing) response. It walks us back from thoughtless stumbles, isolating, self-interested behav- ior, and worse. But we don’t have to transgress to feel guilty. As the pre- ceding examples illustrate, guilt can be maladaptive. For example, it can develop from relational loyalty. Separation and survivor guilt are the prime examples of maladaptive guilt. As we see with Harley, a high school gradu- ate might feel guilty about leaving a parent with depression to go to college. Underlying this decision, the child has a separation guilt belief: If I pursue my needs and wants, I will hurt this person for whom I am responsible. 16 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Survivor guilt involves a similar though slightly different underlying belief: My gains and successes come at the expense of people I love or for whom I feel responsible. We can see this in, for example, a success- ful person who remains chronically depressed despite circumstances that would normally produce optimism and pleasure. Unable to rescue their family, they have a part who stays connected, does penance, and feels mor- ally redeemed by renouncing personal happiness. As with separation guilt, survivor guilt causes us to act as if our pursuit of positive personal goals is transgressive and, further, as if self-sacrifice is reparation. We generally benefit by being attuned to the feelings, views, and needs of others, but when we sacrifice personal goals to comfort, soothe, or take care of some- one who is emotionally unavailable, inappropriately dependent, or literally dead, guilt is a problem. Shame I suggest thinking of shame as an act (shaming) or a state of being (shame- ful). When we shame, we judge another person globally on the basis of a particular behavior, quality, or feature of their body, culture, or life cir- cumstance. Condemning the whole for a part gives shaming its harsh, blunt impact. Rather than charging You did... (something hurtful), shaming alleges You are... (bad, defective, too much, too little, etc.). If we do something wrong, we can at least make an effort at repair, but if we are defective, there is no escape. When a condemned part is taken to represent a whole system, the obvious solution for that system is to differentiate from or improve the offending part. We might see this, for example, in a person trying to conform more effectively, be more acceptable, wear different clothes, do things to appear taller or shorter, change their hair, lose weight, gain weight, change their face, change their accent, forswear ancestors, lose the family religion, move to a new zip code, accumulate things, give things away, be a star, be invisi- ble, and generally try to become the opposite of whatever they were shamed for being. And this is what manager parts lead us to do. Ironically, their improvement efforts serve to reinforce the belief that the original shaming was accurate information. Until recently, Western culture has not viewed individuals as systems. As a result, our identities tend to get defined by our vulnerabilities or strengths, and our protectors naturally prefer the latter. But if you think in terms of parts, it’s easy to see that one part does not represent all parts. So, let’s consider two questions. When someone inside is shaming, who is doing the shaming? And who has the power to challenge it? In answer to the first question, inner shamers are good mimics and are quick to learn from external others. Sometimes an external person shames inadvertently, sometimes intentionally. S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 17 In this book, we look at the effects of both. Some intentional sham- ers shame in the name of improving others. Parents and other authority figures who believe that shaming socializes children fall in this category, as do adults who shame other adults to police their behavior. We need only survey high-conflict couples or look at the Internet to notice how many adults believe that shaming will produce good, as in constructive and posi- tive, results. But other shamers make no moral or educational excuse. They shame to (1) reboot their personal sense of value by feeling bigger, stronger, and more worthy than someone else; (2) exert control; (3) accrue power; or (4) profit materially—or some combination. Whatever the shamer’s intentions, the recipient of shaming will feel hurt but may not feel shameful. Let’s pause to highlight this point: To feel shameful, we must believe the message. The continuum of receptivity to shaming runs from zero (the supremely self-confident individual who feels unassailable), to a bit vulnerable (the person who questions their worth for some particular reason, such as, e.g., a recent divorce), to the most vulnerable (say, a child or an adult who is financially dependent, or anyone who already feels worthless). We receive shaming according to our place on this continuum. At the most vulnerable end, we absorb shaming as confirmation of existing negative beliefs about who we are and what we’re worth. Receiving Shaming The crucial point is that a shamed person will either accept shaming or decline to feel shameful, according to their vulnerability. Once a vulnerable person has accepted shaming, they’re stuck with feeling shameful and are primed to believe any future shaming that comes their way. Furthermore, the recipient of shaming who feels shameful will eventually try to recoup their balance and distract from inner critics by shaming others, whether they recognize this or not. EXERCISE Differentiating Shame, Maladaptive Guilt, and Adaptive Guilt 1. The Cognitions of Shame, Maladaptive Guilt, and Adaptive Guilt Shame: I am bad (defective, too much, too little, etc.). Maladaptive guilt, due to a transgression, fused with shame: I did wrong and I am bad. Maladaptive guilt, not due to a transgression, fused with shame: I did wrong and I am bad. Adaptive, “pure” guilt, due to a transgression: I did wrong and I need to make a repair. 18 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind 2. Quiz Yourself: Is It Shame, Maladaptive Guilt, or Adaptive Guilt? (Circle the ones that apply.) a. I am bad: (1) shame, (2) maladaptive guilt, (3) adaptive guilt b. The client did commit a transgression and believes I did wrong and I am bad: (1) shame, (2) maladaptive guilt, (3) adaptive guilt c. The client did not commit a transgression but still believes I did wrong and I am bad: (1) shame, (2) maladaptive guilt, (3) adaptive guilt d. The client did commit a transgression and believes I did wrong and I need to make a repair: (1) shame, (2) maladaptive guilt, (3) adaptive guilt [Key: a = 1, b = 3 + 1, c = 2 + 1, d = 3] 3. Outcome Goals: Challenging Shame and Maladaptive Guilt Shame: I’m bad. | The Goal: I’m fine. Guilt after a transgression that is fused with shame: I did wrong so I am bad. | The Goal: I did wrong, I am not bad, I will repair the consequences. Guilt that is not due to a transgression but is fused with shame: I did wrong and I am bad. | The Goal: I did not do wrong and I am not bad. Addressing the Shame Cycle Shaming is a highly contagious behavior that infects relationships inside and out. All of us do some intrapsychic and interpersonal shaming at some point. So, where do we intervene? Language Let’s start with language, which either obscures or illuminates what we’ll be calling the shame cycle. When a client says, “I feel a lot of shame,” I don’t know if they’re talking about a part who is being shamed or a part who is shaming. But I’ll find out if I personify their experience with parts language and substitute the words shaming and shameful for shame. Here is an example. z Raphael Feels Ashamed and Shames Himself Raphael, a 35-year-old, cisgender, heterosexual, Argentinian American man, came to therapy after being dropped by his girlfriend because, when she proposed marriage, he felt compelled to say no even though he didn’t want to end the relationship. This was his first session. S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 19 Raphael: I feel a lot of shame. Therapist: Want to explore that? [Ask for permission before diving in.] Raphael: Yes. Therapist: Is someone shaming you inside? [Although he uses the word shame, he could be thinking of a part who shames him or a part who feels shameful. Because it’s likely to be a critic who shames him, I check for that first.] Raphael: Yes, of course. Therapist: How do you know it’s there? Raphael: It’s a voice. Not an out-loud kind of voice. It’s in my head. Therapist: Do you see anyone speaking? Raphael: Not right now. Therapist: Have you ever talked to this voice? Raphael: No. Therapist: How do you feel toward it? Raphael: Are you kidding? I hate it! Therapist: Would it be okay to ask it a question? Raphael: (Shrugs uncomfortably.) Okay. Therapist: Is it a part of you? Raphael: (Gives me a worried, puzzled look.) What do you mean? [We have not yet talked about the concept of parts.] Therapist: I will explain, but first, if this is okay with you, ask this inner shamer if it is a part of you. [I want to know if he experiences this voice as me or not me. If the answer is not me, I will talk with him about inherited burdens, as I discuss and illustrate in Chapters 6 and 7. If the answer is me, I will focus on helping him to befriend his critic—as illustrated below.] Raphael: (Closes his eyes and is quiet for a few beats.) It’s part of me. [Raphael gets an answer and has first contact with a part.] Therapist: This critic is one of your parts. We all have parts. Lots of them, actually. Right now, you notice a shaming part and another part—or maybe lots of other parts—who hate the shaming part. Raphael: Yes. Therapist: Would they be willing to relax and let you learn more about the shamer? Raphael: I don’t feel comfortable with him. 20 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Therapist: Do you see him? Raphael: It’s my fifth-grade English teacher, Mr. Herd. He hated me. (A short silence.) I hear him saying that I’m stupid and stubborn and don’t deserve help. But it can’t really be him because he knows private things about me. So, it must be me. Therapist: This copy of Mr. Herd insults you but is really a part of you. Raphael: I couldn’t spell and he just... I don’t know why, he hated me. I think he picked on the kids he could pick on. Therapist: Who does this Mr. Herd copy protect? Raphael: (A long silence.) Me. I’m the one with shame. Therapist: You have a part who feels shameful. [This time I translate his word shame to shameful.] Raphael: A part? It seems like me. Therapist: Let’s find out. Would the Mr. Herd part agree to let you talk with the one who feels shameful? Raphael: (Shakes his head.) He says absolutely no. Therapist: What would happen if you learned more about the part who feels shameful? [Protective parts are always motivated by specific fears that were reason- able in the past but may no longer apply.] Raphael: I’d give up. Therapist: Does that make sense to you, Raphael? Raphael: I wanted to give up a lot. I almost ran away in fifth grade, but I didn’t have the courage. Herd wasn’t the only one who found me disappointing. Therapist: So, the part who copies Mr. Herd controls a part who wanted to run away and escape disappointed people? [I name what sounds to me like an inner polarity between two protective parts.] Raphael: Yes. Therapist: How do you feel toward the copy part now? Raphael: He’s shrinking. Therapist: Oh? Raphael: (A few beats.) He’s 10. Therapist: How do you feel toward him? Raphael: He says giving up will make things worse. Therapist: In what way? Raphael: My mother did everything on her own. She brought me to the S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 21 U.S. to escape my biological father when I was a baby and she was nineteen. She raised me and went to law school at the same time. She’s very smart and she never understood why I did bad in some subjects but great in others. It didn’t matter to her that I’m dyslexic. [Note that although Raphael did well in some subjects, his critical part reflects the shaming attitudes of the adults around him.] Therapist: What did she tell herself—and you—about that? Raphael: She believes in willpower. She really couldn’t understand me. I asked if I could live with my grandparents in Argentina. She did want me to learn Spanish, but she was afraid of my father. When she finally said yes, my abuela got sick and died. Therapist: What did your mother say to you about school? Raphael: That I wasn’t trying hard enough. Therapist: Does the 10-year-old who copies Mr. Herd see you right now? Raphael: No. Therapist: Would he like to? Raphael: Okay, he’s looking. Therapist: How does he respond? Raphael: He looks sad. Therapist: He protects the dyslexic boy? (Raphael nods.) If you could help that boy, would it be good for him? Raphael: Yes. Therapist: And if he didn’t have to shame the dyslexic boy anymore, what would he rather do? Raphael: Ride his bike. This session revealed a nucleus of distressing experiences in Raphael’s childhood involving shaming, shamefulness, and loneliness. By speaking of shame in two distinct ways, as an action (shaming) or a state of being (shamefulness), we were able to untangle his inner experience, in which a 10-year-old copycat protector was looking and acting like a rageful, sham- ing teacher to help a dyslexic boy. Once he had contact with Raphael’s Self, the copycat began to unhook from being a critic. In this session, our job was to befriend him and get permission from him to help the shamed boy. The Function of Being Shamed There is none. It’s a bad experience, which harms the recipient if they believe it. 22 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind The Function of Shaming Externally (this shamer may be a proactive manager or a reactive fire- fighter): 1. To feel bigger, more significant, and more powerful in comparison to someone who feels smaller, less significant, and weaker. 2. To control and dominate. 3. To profit. Internally (this shamer is a proactive manager): 1. To improve or banish the exile and protect the individual’s familial/ social connections. 2. To control firefighter parts. How else might shaming serve the shamer? Burdens: Personal and Inherited Exiles have shaming personal beliefs, which they often experience as literal physical encumbrances. In IFS, we call these beliefs burdens. An exile may say it carries a backpack full of rocks, it may feel immersed in sludge, be encased in armor, or feel inhabited by mold, tentacles, a false organ, and so on. In contrast, protectors have jobs. Their jobs, which spring from fear and a sense of responsibility, are also burdensome. When a child’s loyal protectors join with a caretaker to share the caretaker’s burden, the child, in essence, inherits their caretaker’s burden (Sinko, 2017). Inherited bur- dens differ from personal burdens in a few important ways. A personal bur- den—a shame-based belief—develops involuntarily from personal expe- rience. In contrast, an inherited burden takes up residence when a child shoulders a caretaker’s burden out of loyalty, proximity, dependency, fear, identification, empathy, and so on. The personal burden is a shameful iden- tity; the inherited burden tends to signal a guilt-based relationship. To dif- ferentiate the two, as the chapters to come discuss both, I call the burdens that develop from personal experience identity burdens and the burdens that originated with others relational burdens. In Chapters 6 and 7, I show how burdened bonds cause children to shoulder relational burdens. For now, it’s just important to know that exiled parts get exiled both because they have identity burdens—they feel shameful—and because other parts believe they are shameful. S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 23 What’s Change Got to Do with Therapy? Clients tend to start therapy either seeking change or dreading it and refus- ing to change. Manager parts are the ones who seek change; they want to change the essence of the exile and the behavior of firefighter parts. They work hard and they’re tired. Firefighters, on the other hand, focus more narrowly on changing the arousal state of the autonomic nervous system whenever threatening beliefs (I’m worthless, I’m unlovable) evoke strong feelings. They work hard, too, although they rarely admit to being tired. If clients come to therapy with any intent, it’s usually the managerial intent to change. Their manager team tells them to become a better person. Be braver. Be stronger. Be more lovable. Get control of that uncontrolled disinhibition. These parts expect the therapist to rally to the cause and lead them to success. If we focus on change in therapy, we reinforce their belief that self-reinvention can solve the problem of having been shamed, which it cannot. When we call therapy work (though I admit it can be hard to avoid the word), we inadvertently reinforce the managerial belief that working harder will change that shameful exile into someone lovable. Because managerial efforts to change the exile are, from my perspec- tive, at the heart of the problem, I don’t want managers focusing on work or change in therapy. I interrupt work monologues (characterized by the word do—What should I do? I have to do something. I try to do this or that) to suggest that something different and better will happen if they stop working—in fact, they could stop right now and do nothing for a just few moments to see how it feels. I may joke about child labor laws, and I may say, in all seriousness, that I don’t plan to work. Hard work won’t help parts feel legitimate and lovable, and none of them needs to change who they are. That said, my challenge to the ethos of earned love is certain to lack credibility at first. I know the client’s Self can sanction a part’s existence. I know the Self can annul harsh judgments. I know their exiles could see shamefulness as inaccurate information from a disturbed source and let it go. I know the whole internal system would be relieved if this were to hap- pen. And I know that all parts need to be in relationship with the client’s Self. Protectors don’t have to do anything about this beyond being willing to stop doing whatever they do. When they stop doing and stand by, the Self shows up, which drains their drive to keep doing. But if this is to hap- pen, they need direct experience with the Self. We may need to start with little experiments before protectors will allow bigger ones, but, in any case, change happens when protectors stop working on change.* When exiles * As Carl Rogers said, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself, just as I am, then I can change.” 24 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind unburden, protectors volunteer to open the sluice gates, life flows, and the normal state of things reasserts itself. The normal state of things is change. A Model of Mind If you endorse the idea of psychic multiplicity, it applies to everyone. That said, not everyone will want to interact with their parts or use this approach in therapy. Parts have to be willing to participate, and sometimes they’re not. If a person comes to me expressing reluctance to talk about parts, I assume that a part is speaking, and I can only be curious about its concerns. If the client expresses some willingness to proceed despite their reluctant part, we can go on. I’m willing to use other words for parts. If they prefer to talk about feelings, sensations, thoughts, and so on, I can do that. But I make it clear that I think of feelings, sensations, and thoughts as the expressions and communications of parts. I tell clients that, as far as I’m concerned, the psyche is, by evolutionary design, a meeting place for the many opinions and perspectives of their parts. If they have no interest in this way of thinking, I can point them toward other resources. If a client is willing to try my approach but their mind seems para- lyzed or races, we’ll think about adjunctive treatments, such as neurofeed- back, medication (including ketamine and, down the road, I hope, MDMA and psilocybin), movement (yoga, dance), and so on, with an eye to what appeals and what the client can afford. But, in any case, sometimes protec- tors aren’t willing to participate in therapy. All we can do is invite, offer, and, if at least some of the client’s parts want, persist. We don’t control parts. That said, when they believe the therapist understands how the inner system functions and knows how to maintain a baseline of safety, they’re often eager to give this approach a try. Conclusion What we believe about shame and guilt matters a lot in therapy because most clients are struggling with one or both. I’ve said that shame is either shaming, a transgressive act of diminishment, or shamefulness, a simmer- ing, poisoned state of being that gives rise to continual anxiety about who one is. Guilt, in contrast, is how one responds to having transgressed or having thought of transgressing. It signals relational concern. I am con- cerned for you because of what I’ve done (or might do) to you. Shaming is a transgressive act; guilt is a response (sometimes a proactive response) to acting transgressively. But they can intertwine. If an inner critic shames a guilty protector (You did wrong so you’re bad), its shaming is likely to eclipse the feeling of guilt. As far as relationships go, it’s far better for me S h a m e , G uilt, a nd P sy c hi c Multipli c ity 25 to feel guilty than ashamed. Conscience guides repair. It’s hardwired. We need to trust that. The best way to access our conscience is to calm inner shaming and be accountable. Of course, some transgressions can’t be repaired directly (because, e.g., the victim is dead or the transgressor doesn’t have access to the victim for some reason). Then either the transgressor or their community have to fashion a repair that attempts to match the loss they caused and mend the social fabric they tore. Irreparable guilt can devolve due to shaming and become a kind of cognitive superglue (This can never be fixed!) for the feel- ing of shamefulness. In this case, only the transgressor or their community can judge when (if ever) their debt is discharged, as in the different but equally complex and imperfect South African, Rwandan, and Canadian reconciliation processes (Government of Canada, 2015; Mustafa, 2020; Weilanga, 2017). If no communal process exists to set an endpoint for guilt, reparations can go off track (as I show in Chapter 12) or may be a life- long project. But we are equipped to address guilt. Transgressions require repair. Shaming and shamefulness interfere with the reparative workings of deserved guilt. CHAP T ER 2 The Goal I ’ve said the psyche consists of a community of parts and a contrasting resource, the Self. Philosophers call this arrangement a unity of oppo- sites: without light we wouldn’t have (or even need the concept of) darkness because we would only know darkness. Without death we would not have a concept of life, and so on. Pairs of opposites define each other. The Self and parts are such a pair. The idea that there is more than one form of con- sciousness is not new. Buddhists call the same resource Buddha mind; and Patanjali, the presumed author of ancient Sanskrit yoga sutras, wrote (as translated by Gregor Maehle, 2006, p. 200): The seer is consciousness... which is awareness [in IFS terms, the Self]. The seen is not only the entire world of objects but also the inner instrument... consisting of intellect, mind, and ego [in IFS terms, parts].* The ultimate success of IFS depends on clients and therapists accessing both forms of consciousness. When our parts make room for the Self, we feel mentally spacious, compassionate, and able to be curious rather than reactive. We have a bird’s-eye view of ourselves, other people, and events. This is the goal of IFS therapy. Parts can make room for the Self to show up, but they have to be will- ing. It’s ironic, but the Self, which is always available to help out and take responsibility, doesn’t control parts. We can’t make our parts separate, and we don’t do the separating for them. They have to cooperate. Sometimes they seem to be captive to the body and need assistance in the form of * Thanks to IFS therapist and yoga teacher Allison Miller for sending me this Patanjali quote. 26 T he G o a l 27 something like movement, neurofeedback, medication, and so on. But in any case, we can’t order them around or trick them into quitting their jobs. Their willingness to stop doing and follow the Self’s lead is as essential as the noncontrolling, inviting attitude of the Self. Willingness is therefore our first order of business. The Self earns the willingness of protectors by being inclusive, attentive, and interested. Until the client’s Self is available to give that kind of attention, the therapist’s Self stands in, as I illustrate in this chapter. Accordingly, IFS devotes the first portion of therapy to the willing- ness of protective parts and the second to the needs and wishes of exiled parts. These distinct portions of therapy rarely require the same amount of time, with protectors needing the lion’s share of attention. Some protectors will have had a bad experience of therapy in the past, some will fear being exposed and shamed now, some will have felt pressured to come to therapy, some will be terrified of emotional flooding if the client were to revisit trau- matic events, some won’t trust anyone. As well, most protectors endorse the status quo. They may not be happy with it, but they do believe something really is wrong with the vulnerable parts they exile. They believe the past predicts the future. They may believe they are responsible for the welfare of a caretaker, sibling, or other relative. They’re afraid of not doing what they do. They need our persistent patience. When they’re willing to unblend and test our assertion that the Self exists and exiles can be helped, we move on to the next portion of therapy. In the second portion, the client’s Self becomes the exile’s audience and primary attachment figure. The exile may show details of its traumatic experiences to the Self, which the client usually reports to the therapist. Some exiles, however, don’t feel the need to go into detail, and some don’t want to share their story with anyone but the client’s Self. The therapist is there as an additional witness as needed. The exile directs. As with the first portion of therapy, the essential therapeutic ingredients in this portion are curiosity and compassion. The following example, which occurred dur- ing an intake evaluation at a hospital, illustrates how I might help a client access their Self. Within 90 minutes, I was able to get basic information for intake forms and conduct an initial therapy session. z Izad Finds Forgiveness Izad, a single, cisgender man of unknown (by me) sexual preference, came to the United States from Iran with his family when was 14. He had a psychotic break in his mid-40s when his mother died, an unusual age for a first episode of psychosis. When I asked what brought him to treatment, he replied that his primary care doctor had made the appointment, and we had the following conversation. 28 I. The Vulnerable Mind Therapist: Why did your doctor want you to have therapy? (Izad looks down and doesn’t answer.) Do you know? (Izad nods.) Is it okay to ask? (He nods, I wait.) Izad: My brother comes to me. Therapist: Hmmm. This form says you’re an only child. Izad: (Nods.) After seven. Before my mother died, my brother Reza came to her. Now he comes to me. Therapist: What does he want? Izad: I don’t know. Therapist: You haven’t asked? Izad: I can’t change anything Therapist: Does Reza want you to change something? Izad: I don’t know. (A few beats.) I want to change something. Therapist: Can I ask why? Izad: I killed him when I was 7. Therapist: Izad, check on something for me. Are all parts of you—all parts inside—ready to talk about this right now? Ask around. Izad: Hmm? Therapist: Just ask inside if it’s okay for us to talk about this. (Izad looks down and we are silent for a few seconds, then he nods.) Izad: I’m afraid. Therapist: Can we talk with the part who’s afraid? (Izad nods.) What does it say? Izad: (After a short silence.) Does he want me to join him? Therapist: That’s the fear? (Izad nods.) If I’m understanding you cor- rectly, your brother Reza comes to you now that your mother has died, but he hasn’t told you what he wants. (Izad nods.) So the fearful part is guessing? (Izad nods.) Why would it guess that Reza wants you to join him? Izad: Because I think so. Therapist: You have a part who thinks he wants you to join him? Or it thinks that you should join him? Izad: I should. Therapist: Is it okay to ask why? Izad: He would be here except for me. And I would have gone to be with him sooner except for my mother. Therapist: Your mother wanted you to live? (Izad nods.) But this part thinks the 7-year-old should die now that his mother is gone? (Izad The Goal 29 nods.) How do you feel toward the part who thinks the 7-year-old should die? Izad: His mother told him to live. [He doesn’t answer my question.] Therapist: Do you see him? (Izad nods.) And as you see him, how do you feel toward him? Izad: I pity him. Therapist: You have a part who pities him? [I use parts language.] Izad: He’s alone. Therapist: He’s lonely? (Izad nods.) He lived because his mother said he had to live and now his mother is gone. (Izad nods.) Would the part who pities him be willing to step back a little so you can help him? (Izad nods, and I wait a few beats.) How do you feel toward him now? (Izad weeps.) Are these tears for the 7-year-old or from him? Izad: For him. Therapist: Is this level of feeling okay? (Izad nods.) Does the boy see you? (Izad nods.) How does he respond? Izad: He’s surprised. He thought he was invisible. Therapist: Would he like your help? (Izad nods.) How do you feel toward him now? Izad: I care. Therapist: What needs to happen? Izad: He wants to talk to Reza. Therapist: Does he need your help? Izad: I will help. (Closes his eyes for the first time and is absolutely still, tears seep out of his eyes, and it seems like a long time before they open.) We went to a restaurant at the beach to celebrate his birthday. He was 5. I chased him. He fell off the terrace. Therapist: Oh, Izad! That must have been so shocking. (Izad nods.) What’s happening with Reza now? Izad: He’s taking my hand. He wants to play on the beach. (Leans over, puts his head in his hands, and sobs.) He doesn’t blame me. Therapist: How does that feel? (He nods.) Do the boy and Reza see you? (Izad nods.) Do they know who you are? (Izad nods.) Would they like to come to the present to be with you? (Izad nods.) Does the boy have any burdens from that day? Izad: Yes. 30 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Therapist: Does Reza need him to keep the burdens? (Izad shakes his head no.) Does the boy need them? (Izad shakes his head again.) Is he ready to let them go? (Izad nods.) He could give them to one of the elements, light, earth, air, water, fire... or any other way. (Izad nods.) Let me know when that’s done. Izad: (After a pause.) They put it in the water. Therapist: How does he feel? Izad: Grateful. Therapist: What does he need going forward? He can invite in anything he needs or wants. Izad: He needs to stay with Reza and me. Therapist: Okay. (After a few beats.) How does that feel? (Izad nods posi- tively.) Anything else? Izad: They will stay with me. Izad became suicidal after his mother’s death. When questioned, he reported that his dead brother was visiting him. His primary care doctor thought he was psychotic and referred him for a psychiatric evaluation. During the intake evaluation, which became a therapy session, he was able to unblend from his protectors and help the young part who felt responsible for his brother’s death. Izad left feeling relieved. The interactions in this ses- sion highlight the importance of listening to clients with a completely open mind. It also illustrates the speed with which a client can access their Self, with an emphasis on the word can since accessing the Self can also take a long time. z But What If This? Readers may wonder what would have happened if Reza had been angry or had blamed Izad. Let’s play that out to see how it might have gone. I’ll start where Izad has just helped his 7-year-old part ask Reza why he is appearing to Izad. Izad: (Opens his eyes and pauses to wipe tears away.) He’s mad at me. Therapist: What do you say? Izad: I used to tease him. I wanted to die after it happened. Therapist: You had a part who said you should die? Izad: I was so ashamed. Therapist: Who shamed you? Izad: Me. T he G o a l 31 Therapist: You had a critical part who blamed and shamed you? (Izad nods.) And how do you feel toward that part, Izad? Izad: My mother told me I had to stay alive. Therapist: So that’s why you’re still here? (Izad nods.) And what does the critic say to you now that your mother is gone? Izad: Now you can die. Therapist: Would the critic be willing to take a break and let you help these brothers? (Izad nods.) What needs to happen? Izad: He wants to tell Reza that he’s sorry. Therapist: Is that okay with Reza? Izad: He says yes. (A long silence.) Izad admitted he was jealous. He thought Reza was special. Therapist: How does Reza respond? Izad: He likes that Izad is apologizing. He knows Izad didn’t mean to hurt him. Therapist: Does Reza still need Izad to feel guilty about the accident? (Izad shakes his head.) Would it be okay with Reza if he lets the guilt go? (Izad nods.) Does Izad need to hold onto that guilt for any reason? (Izad nods.) Why? Izad: He hurt his mother. Therapist: Would he like to say something to her now? (Izad nods.) Would Reza like to stay for that? (Izad nods.) Okay. Let’s invite his mother and her higher Self to join the two of them and you. [The boy can’t accept any measure of pardon without addressing the injury to his mother as well.] z What If That? When I talk about a parent’s higher Self, some clients look puzzled, whereas others don’t even pause. If they look puzzled, I’ll say something like We all have a higher Self. You didn’t have access to this person’s higher Self, but we can call on it now because it exists. I talk more about this in Chapter 7. The scene between Izad’s mother and her children could have played out in any number of directions. We never know where a session will go. The mother (from her higher Self) could rapidly forgive him, like this: Izad: She’s here. Therapist: What needs to happen? Izad: He’s begging her to forgive him. Therapist: How does she respond? 32 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Izad: She hugs him. She hugs them both. It’s without question. Therapist: How do you feel toward the 7-year-old now? Izad: I know he’s not a bad boy. Therapist: Let him know that no one is judging him. Or Reza might speak for Izad with the mother, like this: Izad: Izad couldn’t look at her, so Reza asked their mother to forgive him. Therapist: How did her higher Self respond? Izad: She forgave him, of course. Throughout the interaction, whatever happens, each person has a higher Self to call on, just as everyone does in individual, couple, and fam- ily therapy. When a Protector Won’t Unblend Although we aim for unblending from the get-go, it can take a while to win cooperation, and we don’t want therapy to stall in the meanwhile. When the client can’t access their Self, the therapist’s Self simply takes the lead and talks directly with the client’s parts. In theory, the therapist’s Self is always available for this job. If that’s true in practice, this strategy is easy. In IFS, a direct conversation between the therapist’s Self and a blended part of the client is called direct access. The therapist notices that the cli- ent’s protectors aren’t ready to unblend, points it out, and asks the client for permission to speak with their parts. The therapist then speaks about the client in the third person, talking directly with the blended part about other parts of the client while the client’s Self listens. In addition to insight or direct access, an IFS therapist can use other methods to engage parts, such as movement, drumming, sand tray, drawing, and so on. I illustrate the differences between insight and direct access below, and I explain more about how to choose between them. The example of Ava (below) illustrates direct access. Ava was neglected in childhood. Neglected or exploited children yearn for the love of a kind, attentive parent, and their protective parts have various ways of suppress- ing or distracting from this yearning. One particularly syntonic, powerful distraction involves delicious, wish-fulfilling fantasies of being special and loved. When reality is harsh, these fantasies are all the more important. And, as we see with Ava, when reality and fantasy coincide due to an atten- tive romantic partner in adult life, an exile can attach like a limpet to stone, even if that partner is intermittently abusive. T he G o a l 33 The parts who protect an exile like this will say, Why trade what we provide (the fantasy) for an alien unknown (the Self)? All kinds of unwanted consequences could ensue. They fear losing their jobs and becoming extra- neous. And then what for them? The exile could feel hopeful but be disap- pointed once again, arousing a suicide part. And then what? Each concern must be addressed. For clients who were severely deprived in childhood, the exile’s attachment to the fantasy of a loving caretaker, especially when cou- pled with real experiences of feeling loved, can be an entrenched obstacle to willingness in therapy. z Ava: A Part Wants Salvatore, Not Self Ava was a 45-year-old cisgender, bisexual, single European American woman. Her father (now dead) had been a distant family patriarch; her mother was emotionally disturbed and had been, by turns, neglectful and violently rejecting throughout Ava’s childhood. A young, intensely yearn- ing part who felt unloved was, it turned out, living in her heart. As it did not protect anyone else, we knew this part was an exile. Ava called it her electrocuted cat. The electrocuted cat had an unrelenting attachment to Ava’s ex-boyfriend, Salvatore, who had been, by turns, loving and protec- tive, and then harshly critical and rejecting. After years of conflict and distress compounded by growing signals of impatience from friends and family, Ava’s most mature managers ended the relationship with Salvatore. Disregarding the new status quo, the electrocuted cat refused to acknowl- edge love from other sources and undermined new attachments. Under- standably, this behavior made other parts angry. Therapist: I was thinking after you left last week that we haven’t been able to help the electrocuted cat. Ava: Yes. Therapist: Can I talk to it directly? (Ava nods.) So, I want to talk to the cat. Are you there? (Ava nods.) You’ve said no one understands you. (Ava nods.) What would help? Electrocuted Cat: Nothing. No one can understand. Therapist: Would it help if Ava, the Ava-who’s-not-a-part, went with you into your worst experiences? Another Part of Ava: Oh no! Ava: (Chuckles.) That was a popular suggestion. But yes. The cat would love it. Therapist: Okay. But first everyone has to agree. Can I keep talking with the cat? (Ava nods.) So, Cat, are you there? (Ava nods.) Do you know the Ava-who’s-not-a-part? 34 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind Electrocuted Cat: She doesn’t care about me. Therapist: How do you know? Electrocuted Cat: I don’t want to meet her! Therapist: That’s completely up to you. But if other parts were to agree to let her go with you into your experience, would you be willing to meet her? Electrocuted Cat: Yes. Therapist: Okay. Let’s see who objects. Another Part of Ava: What’s the point of this? Therapist: To help the electrocuted cat feel better. Other parts, like you, are fed up with her, right? (Ava nods.) Would you like her to feel bet- ter? Ava: (After a moment.) Okay. Therapist: If anyone wants us to stop at any point, speak up and we will. That way they don’t have to interfere, everyone can just be direct. (Ava nods.) Electrocuted Cat: I have a hole. (Ava points to her chest.) Therapist: Is the hole what happened to you? Electrocuted Cat: Yes. Therapist: What do you want Ava to know about the hole? Electrocuted Cat: It’s empty. Therapist: Would you like help with that? Electrocuted Cat: Yes. Therapist: Would you let Ava help you? Electrocuted Cat: I want Salvatore. Therapist: What was the best thing about Salvatore? Electrocuted Cat: He loved me. Therapist: Where do you find his love now? Electrocuted Cat: In my toes. Therapist: All the way out there? Electrocuted Cat: Yes. Therapist: Who keeps it out there? Electrocuted Cat: The parts who hate him. Therapist: If you could bring his love back to the middle, would it fill the hole? Electrocuted Cat: Yes. T he G o a l 35 Therapist: I have an idea. Can I tell you? (Ava nods.) What if other parts agreed for Salvatore’s love and Ava to join you in the hole? Ava: She’s thinking about that.... But she just wants him. Therapist: She wants him or his love? Ava: Is there a difference? Therapist: Big difference. Electrocuted Cat: What’s the difference? Therapist: His love is in her toes. Even though other parts associate it with him, it really belongs to her. Ava: She sees what you mean. Therapist: You two could bring that love into the hole just to see how it feels. Ava: The other parts would be okay with that, but she doesn’t trust me. Therapist: How do you feel toward her? Ava: I feel a lot of compassion for her. I understand. Therapist: Tell her what you understand and see if she wants to tell you more. Ava: She doesn’t want to be alone. Therapist: How do you feel toward her now? Ava: I love her. Therapist: Does she feel your love? Ava: Reluctantly. Therapist: That’s up to her. Ava: Okay. Therapist: What does she need from you? Ava: For now, this attention is okay. Initially the cat was afraid that meeting Ava’s Self would interfere with her ability to conjure the great comfort of real and imagined love from Salvatore. Note that as the cat became more willing to talk, the cli- ent took over and reported to me on their communications. Although both insight and direct access are effective, insight helps the client’s parts form a relationship with the client’s Self, so therapy goes faster. But if a part won’t unblend, direct access also works well. It frees parts—at least verbal ones—to talk about the client with the therapist (for some options to help nonverbal parts, see Chapter 13 on treatment tips). All the while, the cli- ent listens and learns about the part’s motives and fears. This triangular 36 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind communication arrangement generally helps the client access more interest and kindness toward even very challenging parts, like Ava’s electrocuted cat. Eventually (not in this session) the cat took Ava into the hole of empti- ness, and they stayed there together till the cat felt comforted and decided to bring Salvatore’s love back from the toes, all of which proved helpful. The Capacity to Separate Sometimes a protector or an exile will say it can’t unblend. Although I’ve run into plenty of protectors who refused to unblend, including a few who never did unblend during my tenure as their therapist, I’ve found that even stubborn parts are able to unblend (separate from the Self) when they’re willing. They can also separate—unblend—from each other internally. In fact, even fanatically controlling protectors routinely unblend to let other parts do mundane maintenance tasks, make lunch, walk the dog, go to school, go to work, and so on. However, their willingness to let others handle maintenance does not imply a willingness to cede leadership to the client’s Self. Similarly, if polarized arguing protectors only have eyes for each other, their problem is unwillingness. As a result, I’ve come to assume that parts who won’t separate could do so if they were willing. So, what motivates protectors to refuse? They always have valid rea- sons. For one thing, people often begin therapy without any internal agree- ment among their parts that therapy is a good idea. And there are plenty of other reasons as well. For example, some protectors fear the client will be rejected again. Some believe that they are their job and that they will disappear if they stop doing it. Sometimes two protectors are locked in an intense power struggle (called a polarity in IFS), so that neither will take notice of the client’s Self or any other part. Sometimes a dominant man- ager insists that it is the one and only part—it is me. And, most common of all, sometimes neither managers nor firefighters want the client to be overwhelmed by an exile’s emotional pain. The client’s Self is poised to help with all this, but its leadership can only begin by popular demand. If the therapist is thrown off or discouraged by a lack of cooperation, therapy will go more slowly. We gain traction with protectors by notic- ing them and offering good-natured, calm attention, as illustrated in the session with Ava. They want to know that they won’t disappear if they quit their job, and they want to hear that they will always be indispens- able members of the inner community. We invite their concerns and coach clients to do some relational mending outside of sessions if possible. But if a part won’t give up any corner of consciousness to the Self, the client will need help from someone—a therapist or a trusted counselor—who can offer the needed compassion, confidence, creativity, and persistence to help the part move from wary blending to willing differentiation. T he G o a l 37 Conclusion IFS aims for the client to experience life with their Self in the lead. Neither therapist nor client can take the necessary action—what we call unblend- ing—to accomplish this goal; only parts can do that. For this to happen, they must be willing. Sometimes a client’s parts unblend in a snap. Occa- sionally no part of a client’s system is willing to unblend. In between those extremes, protective parts gradually test the waters in response to persua- sion and patience, separating more for longer periods of time, until they make enough room for the Self to have an influence. Ironically, the more experience they get of the Self, the more willing they are to unblend. Although a protector’s fears of unblending are indexed to the exile’s level of wounding, their willingness to unblend depends a great deal on the therapist. Note that everything I’ve suggested in this chapter involves attitudes and actions that aim to calm our shaming managers, as well as our clients’ shaming managers. Our access to the Self is critical. Our nego- tiating skills and social graces—our curiosity, kindness, egalitarianism, patience, and respect—set the tone for the client’s protectors. We invite, include, and learn from them, but they learn from us, too. We guide the client in addressing their parts’ concerns. Finally, when the client’s Self is witnessing the experiences of an exile, we reassure any protectors who get anxious and interrupt. When it happens, I count myself lucky to be a third- party witness to deep attachment repair. CHAP T ER 3 All the Ways We Say No T his chapter explores how we balance between accepting and refusing, complying and rebelling, yielding and resisting. As Sigmund Freud observed, we all know how to forget, deny, displace, project, repress, ratio- nalize, undo, and so on. Because not accepting reality leads to trouble, mental health treatment is often built around trying to dismantle nonaccep- tance tactics, a goal many clients share when they come to therapy. Accept- ing reality is a tenet of psychological health, right? To grieve and move on we must accept what is. People change once they accept. But nonacceptance tactics substitute for the word no—and we all need the word no—so I’ve learned to be cautious about promoting acceptance. I don’t want to promote either acceptance or change unless the client’s Self and their parts can agree on what needs to happen. So let’s consider the wish list of extreme protectors. The proactive, critical team (manager parts) wants to change the supposed flaws and shortcomings of exiled parts. From their perspective, therapy should support this project. In contrast, the reactive, soothing, and distracting team (firefighter parts) wants to silence shaming managers and numb suffering exiles. As far as they’re concerned, these imperative goals require action without concern for consequences. This brings us to the dilemma of exiled parts, who can either tolerate being shamed, ignored, or smothered—or they can rebel and overwhelm the cli- ent with negative feelings that activate firefighter parts, often including the one who specializes in suicide. Each category of part has its own perspective on the status quo and what needs to happen, so who are we siding with when we talk with clients about change or acceptance? We don’t actually want our clients to embrace 38 All the Ways We S ay N o 39 any of the preceding options. Exiled parts don’t need to change. Manager parts don’t need to do all that shaming. Firefighter parts don’t need to relieve the sense of shamefulness by killing the client, either quickly or slowly. No person or part needs to die. Nor do clients need to abide endless mental reruns of excruciating moments that can and should be relegated to the past. The pursuit of the wrong kind of acceptance or change turns therapy into a grim project that clients tolerate only with great patience and bravery because they’re desperate for help. So what do I want for my clients? First, I take their parts seriously, and I want them to know it. I aim to be open to all their parts. Then, I want their parts to entertain the idea that meeting the Self could be safe and beneficial. I trust they know that bad things can happen and that people, including caretakers, can be cruel, sadistic, violent, selfish, and annihilat- ing. Just ask a child which stories they love. Harry Potter? The Golden Compass? Some gruesome fairy tale? Children can bear bad things hap- pening, but they don’t know how to bear the idea that they are bad. When a child accepts global condemnation of their worth, they’re doomed to go on and expend a preponderance of their psychic energy justifying and try- ing to validate their existence. Adults who come to therapy are still doing this—or their parts are doing it. The benefits of acceptance or rejection always depend on what is being accepted or rejected. If we track this question with our clients carefully, we can avoid the unforced errors that come when our own parts take the lead in therapy. For example, I once suggested that a client might try accepting a relative’s frailties rather than trying to protect or fix the relative out of guilt. Although this skills-based intervention sounded reasonable to me, her polite sidestepping signaled my mistake. I checked inside and realized I had a part who wanted to exile her guilt so she would feel better and I would feel competent. But this guilt was central to her parentified experience in childhood. Had she complied and tried to banish her guilty-feeling part, we would have missed an important opportunity to connect with a domi- nant protector. Change and acceptance of bad luck don’t heal; they are the natural outcomes of healing. Until exiles are healed, protective parts will do their job, which may involve trying to change an exile, distract from emotional pain, or parent caretakers. Our goal is not to prevent them from doing these jobs but to remove the necessity. So Many Ways of Saying No The word no is the North Star of a 2-year-old’s life and remains crucial to asserting agency throughout life. But for many children, no is a danger- ous word. If we can’t say no directly, our protective parts find alterna- tives. Freud’s defense mechanisms, the nonacceptance tactics mentioned 40 I. T he V ulner a b le Mind earlier, describe some popular options. Before turning to them, let’s first consider the differences between defending against something and coping with it. Phebe Cramer (2006) explained that coping strategies are conscious attempts to manage, solve, or change a situation or our reaction to the situa- tion. In contrast, “defense mechanisms occur without conscious effort... , operate outside of our awareness... , [and] work by changing our internal psychological state—the way we feel, see, or interpret a situation” (p. 20). Following are the salient features of Cramer’s defense mechanism theory, translated into parts language. 1. All defenses may have origins in an inborn reflex (such as an infant shutting its eyes if a face looms too close) and the voluntary motor reactions that derive from that reflex (such as moving back if someone gets too close for comfort), which eventually transform into psychic defenses (p. 22). In this way, they appear and are used on a develop- mental continuum and are connected to the child’s cognitive maturity. For example, denial, in which an individual fails to “see, recognize, or understand the existence or the meaning of an internal or exter- nal stimulus” (p. 23), is available from infancy on but begins to be replaced by around age 7 with the more sophisticated defense of pro- jection, in which unacceptable feelings, thoughts, and intentions are attributed to someone else. Projection is, in turn, gradually eclipsed in adolescence by the defense of identification, in which the attitudes, beliefs, values, and behaviors of someone else are taken as one’s own. “Whereas denial and projection tend to distort reality, identification functions by bringing about a change in the self” (p. 23). In parts language: A child’s parts use different protective strategies depending on the child’s level of cognitive development. 2. Stress, inside or out, increases the use of defenses. In parts language: When an individual is subject to stressors, inside or out, their protective parts use defenses that suit their own age, temperament, ability, and experience. 3. Defenses should reduce the subjective experience of anxiety. In parts language: Protective parts use defenses to reduce their anxiety about the shamefulness of exiled parts and the behaviors of other protectors. 4. Defenses are effective because they operate outside of awareness, and awareness “should render the defense ineffective” (p. 18). In parts language: Defenses are most effective when other parts and other people view them as somehow inevitable or beyond control. Protectors will say things like This is just how it is, or This can’t change. They prefer to operate behind a curtain, like the Wizard of Oz, and, at least at first, they often express discomfort when they are noticed. All the Ways We S ay N o 41 Cramer posits that making the unconscious conscious will

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