Today we're exploring how past experiences continue to shape us,
Not just in memory,
But in the way our parts live and function today.
In IFS,
We understand that every part formed for a reason.
Many of those reasons are rooted in something that already happened,
Something we lived through,
A moment,
A relationship,
A story that left an imprint.
Think for a moment.
Is there a part of you that reacts strongly to rejection?
Maybe another that works tirelessly to keep you from feeling alone?
These aren't just habits.
They're responses to past experiences that haven't been fully integrated.
When we pause to reflect,
Not to relive,
But to get curious,
We start to notice just how many of our parts are still tethered to those early moments.
They're not trying to keep us stuck.
They're trying to keep us safe.
It may be helpful to take a moment to be with them now.
I remember a part of me that used to panic anytime I got close to rest.
Still shows its head sometimes,
And it's good to be aware of it and to let that part know in me that they're not alone.
I call this my hustle part.
It had learned early that safety came from performance,
From being useful.
Stillness felt dangerous,
Useless,
Even selfish.
I didn't realize that part was stuck in a time when my worth was constantly evaluated by what I could produce.
In my family growing up,
There wasn't space for emotional rest.
There was a survival.
Doing.
Striving.
Proving.
And yet,
When I got curious,
Instead of frustrated with that hustle part,
I began to see the fear underneath.
The fear that if I stopped,
I'd disappear.
Let me share a bit more about that hustle part.
For years,
And even until recently,
I called that part my achiever because it still helps me achieve.
It helps me climb ladders,
Win awards,
Get scholarships.
People saw it as a strength,
And in many ways it was and is.
But underneath it,
There's a restlessness.
This inability to feel settled,
Even during vacations.
And I just came off a vacation week a couple weeks ago.
This part was evident then.
It was good to be aware of it.
But in those times of vacations or quiet evenings with my family,
That part whispers,
Shouldn't you be doing more?
And I continue to notice this part.
How exhausted it was and it is.
And how annoyed I'd get when someone told me to just relax.
A deeper part of me knew something wasn't right.
But I didn't know how to not be that way.
I still am in my own therapy and work to continue to get to know that part better.
But eventually and continually through my own part's work,
I've asked that achiever part,
That hustler,
What it was afraid would happen if it stepped back.
The answer was immediate.
You'll be forgotten.
That brought up memories I hadn't thought about in years.
Times when I was overlooked,
Or when success was the only way to get attention.
My system had internalized the message,
Stay useful or disappear.
Once I understood that,
I could meet that part with more compassion.
I didn't try to get rid of it.
I thanked it.
And over time it softened.
Even though it still shows up,
Especially during moments of rest or transition,
Now it lets other parts have space too.
And it knows it's a part of a bigger team inside that makes up me,
Who I am today.
And when it does show up,
I can meet it with more understanding,
Less judgment.
That's the kind of remembering we're after today.
Not nostalgia or analysis,
But connection.
So here's the invitation.
This week,
Check in with the parts of you that seem loud or reactive.
Ask them,
Is there a memory you're still carrying?
Is there something from the past that's shaping how you show up now?
You don't need to fix it.
You just need to listen.
And as you listen,
More self,
More compassion,
Calm,
And clarity can emerge.
The past doesn't go away simply because time moves forward.
It lives in our parts,
In their stories,
And their reactions,
And their protectiveness.
But when we turn toward those parts with gentle curiosity,
We give them a chance to update their stories.
We let them know they're not alone.
That we're here now with more awareness,
More capacity,
And more love.
So may this week be a week of courageous reflection,
Of quiet moments,
Of unexpected tenderness.
And may your parts fill your presence,
Your leadership,
And your care.
