how i'm trying to change my relationship to change

I discovered leaning into transitions led to more peace and less loneliness (and a few more tears than I was anticipating)

Welcome to this tiny corner of the internet where an off-duty psychotherapist keeps the conversation going on how to make sense of this life thing we’re all doing. If you ever wondered what your therapist does off the clock—which, who among us hasn’t?—this is like that. Think of it as the adult equivalent of seeing your elementary school teacher at the grocery store picking out lemons. 🍋 I typically oscillate between long-form psychoeducation pieces and narrative essays—sometimes I smush them together. I also do a biweekly podcast with my husband, roundups and a segment of brisk thoughts on music, TV, and film.

One thing before we jump in, I show up very much as myself here. Myself first, and all my other labels are secondary. If a therapist speaking candidly feels like too much to your system, that is absolutely is OK and this may not be the best particular newsletter for you.

Do you ever notice how much we expect ourselves to snap in and out of the various roles of our lives? Of the multitude of feelings we have? How much urgency we feel to rush through an experience? To get to the elusive “other side.”

Over the last year I’ve been getting trained in a therapeutic modality called Internal Family Systems (IFS). Across that time, we met three times for a full week and then a few bridge days in between, soaking up this model and practicing on each other. All of this over Zoom. Probably not my preferred way to connect, and yet, connect we did—deeply. 

We grew a shared language; a level of intimacy so powerful. I showed these people parts of my Self no one else in my life has ever seen, sometimes even parts I didn’t even realize were there.

It was nothing short of summer camp on steroids.

During the last week, in the very attuned way they did everything, we did a meditation on honoring transitions.

This experience together was ending. The instuctors didn’t shy away from that. They kept saying, “We will never meet together like this again?

A part of me bristled, “Can’t we just blaze on through this part? We knew this would end. Do we really have to highlight that?”

And another piece of me trying to soften it, “But, but, but, we can still text and have consultation groups. It doesn’t have to end, end.”

As I heard these parts during the meditation, I was squirming in my chair, literally. This made me laugh. I was really trying to get away from something. Laughing at myself, kindly, is a tool of sorts. To observe myself and loosen. She’s cute, she’s funny, she’s really trying.

After this little giggle session, I was able to understand better what was happening. There was sadness waiting for me on the other side of this wall of avoidance. A type of sadness something inside of me wasn’t sure I could handle and, worse yet, according to this part, a sadness that was getting in the way of what I was there to do.

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