No Bad Parts, No Bad Poetry

On trying to make peace with all the parts of me, and a new exclusive to Substack poem

Jun 12, 2024

June is my favorite month of the year. Besides being what my mom still calls “The Birthday Season” (I turn 41 on June 25th), I have such a soft spot on my heart for these early days of June that quietly but confidently lead us into the heart of summer, soft in themselves.

I’ve not yet been to the beach, but I have enjoyed many a dinner picnic in my neighborhood park, put my bare feet in the grass, and felt the sun on my face. I’ve taken meandering walks when I’ve not been rushing to the train, and taking photographs of the continual parade of warm weather blooms that my beautiful neighborhood has to offer. Google Lens has continued to indulge my curiosity and lack of knowledge of the names of plants, so that I can keep adding to my collection of plant friends properly. It feels as if my circle of community is expanding beautifully, even if my new companions cannot answer my greeting back, at least in words. As one of my favorite bands Nada Surf says in their song Looking for You, during June, it feels like “everything is trying to talk to you, and who you are becoming.”

Akin to what I call Secret Garden Time of Year, I find this time of year a thin space. I gravitate to the borders between seasons and treasure when I can actually spy the spots where they blend together. Tulips take their leave, and roses rise up to replace them. None of it feels hostile; the transitions feel like ballet to me.

Spring is already beginning to soften into summer, and the solstice next week will make it official. In the meantime, this liminal space feels full with sacred possibilities and wonder. Can you feel it, too?

The month of June also marks nearly six years that I’ve been working with my current therapist (Happy Anniversary to us, ha!), and she’s recently leaned in to a framework known as Internal Family Systems, developed by Dr. Richard Schwartz. Essentially, Internal Family Systems views a human as being made up of many different parts - the inner critic, the overly cautious protector, the rebellious spirit, and many more. Just as families are made up of many different individuals with their own unique perspectives, needs, and goals, we too are comprised of parts that can collaborate, clash, and cause confusion within us.

Dr. Schwartz argues that rather than banish a part of us (say, our inner critic), we would be well served by taking the time to get to know this part, what motivates it, and what it needs to feel balanced rather than overburdened. He explains, “They are individuals who exist as an internal family within us—and the key to health and happiness is to honor, understand, and love every part.” In other words, as frustrated as we might feel with our inner critic, for example, and wish it would just go away once and for all, Dr. Schwartz encourages us to consider that there is no bad part, only a part needing to acknowledged, appreciated, and given the chance to get back into balance.

In addition to these different parts, Dr. Schwartz contends that we have a Self: a higher energy, one that we might think of as the Wise Mind. Our Self is a source of wisdom, and if we have built one that is grounded and trustworthy, can essentially serve as a parent to all the other parts. When the parts can learn to trust this Self, they feel safe to release burdens they have taken on, and the compassion and curiosity that the Self offers can help us to find a grounding sense of balance and peace within us.

If you are interested in learning more about this system, Dr. Schwartz was recently on an episode of the We Can Do Hard Things podcast, linked below. I also highly recommend his book, No Bad Parts, which goes into his theories and practices in more depth.

I’m intrigued by Internal Family Systems, and I have been a bit skeptical during some of the work I’ve been doing with my therapist.

Is this a “real” thing?

Will it really help my inner critic to pipe down and let me take on a new job, embark on an unknown journey, or heck, simply write a Substack newsletter without feeling the need to tell me - loudly - how much I’m not equipped for the challenge?

These doubts can serve to steer me clear of any strategy that I don’t believe will benefit me in any way, simply because I don’t fully understand it. Or, as Internal Family Systems would suggest, this resistance and doubt could also be seen as another part of me that is trying to protect me from being hurt or disappointed in this process of exploration.

Huh. That’s an idea. What if I played along, just to see what happens?

I find myself saying the name of this part aloud.

“Resistance.”

No fireworks go off, but I can’t say I don’t feel a tiny twinge somewhere inside.

I feel intrigued. I still want Resistance to go away.

While yelling back at her will likely not make Resistance be quiet or disappear, I begin to wonder what might happen if I regularly do my best to acknowledge the feeling of the presence of Resistance as she shows up in this new-to-me way of experiencing my inner world. If my Self is an ocean, I’m dipping my toe in with as much a curious mind and compassionate heart as I can muster. The possibility of relating to my parts differently, and the reduction of suffering that it could bring, is so tempting, but I also don’t want to be swallowed whole in the process.

I’ve always sensed different sides to me, but during my session yesterday, I was really hit with the sense of just how crowded and how loud it can feel in my brain. This feels overwhelming and exciting. What if there is a different way to be with myself?

My therapist follows up by sending me a few reflection questions I can use as I get to know Resistance a bit better:

1. Is there anything you want to share with me, or want me to hear from you? I am here to listen to anything you want me to hear.

2. How old do you think I am? (If the part thinks you are younger than you are, let it know how old you are. How does it respond?)

3. How long have you been doing what you do? What are you afraid will happen to me if you stop doing what you do?

4. Is there anything you would need from me to feel like you could step back from time to time?

I’m still skeptical, but my curiosity persists and edges out pessimism by a hair. I’ll continue. I’ll keep you posted on how this journey goes.

In the meantime, I found myself scribbling a few lines of poetry after my session yesterday as a way of processing this newfound acquaintance with the different parts of myself. We often think of poetry as something that has to be a finished product, and not a process, and though in the past I have written hundreds of poems that I’ve never shared with anyone (and probably won’t), I am recommitting to writing poetry as a way of processing and parsing through Big Feelings as they arise in the moment, even - perhaps, especially - when they are for my eyes only.

During yesterday’s Internal Family Systems session when I was feeling particularly overstimulated by encountering so many different parts of myself at once, I was struck by the visual of arriving in a crowded city and meeting all kinds of people for the very first time. What would that experience be like? What would feel thrilling about these new meetings? What would feel overwhelming? Could I see meeting different parts of myself in a similar way?

Though I’ll be giving myself permission to repurpose poetry as a healing modality that doesn’t need to be shared with others, I do feel called to share one of the poems I’ve written post-therapy about this experience of becoming acquainted with my parts in this space. It’s untitled and a little rough around the edges, much like I’m feeling about this therapy journey.