What to say, what to say? Some days, believe it or not, I feel like being quiet. Not that I don’t almost always have an internal dialogue going on, which is basically what this is, but I don’t always feel like sharing it. That’s one thing I’ve become distinctly aware of since starting this blog. In the beginning, it was easy to imagine that it was just me here, working out my thoughts on digital paper. But after two years of this project, I can’t fool myself like that anymore. People read this. I don’t always know who or how many, but people read it.
My writing friend and teacher Anita says you can’t write with your mom or dad looking over your shoulder. That is, you can’t worry about what someone else is going to think of what you say. For me that means that if I want to say fuck, I say fuck. Not that I NEVER censor myself in terms of what’s appropriate to talk about here (I do), but if I decide to talk about a subject, I try to do so as authentically as possible (in my authentic, fuck-saying voice) and let the chips fall where they may. And whereas I have received some pushback a few times over the last two years for things like my filthy mouth and what I choose to wear on a daily basis, it’s really been very little.
In discussing this online criticism with my therapist, we’ve decided it’s largely just part of the territory. Years after uploading hundreds of educational dance videos to YouTube, I continue to get both praise and flack. One day a stranger says, “This is exactly what I was looking for,” and the next someone says, “Use a damn microphone!” So it’s just part of it–if you’re visible in any way, you’re going to be criticized. That being said, you’ll also be complimented. In my experience, at some point, it all sort of neutralizes. Not that you become unaffected by what other people say, but that it doesn’t matter so much. Because, hopefully, you’re not doing whatever you’re doing for someone else’s response anyway.
You’re doing it for yourself.
This afternoon I read more about Internal Family Systems, a psychological/healing approach by Richard C. Schwartz. The basic idea is that we all have “parts” of ourselves that behave in different ways, often in opposition to each other, and that rather than ignoring or trying to change a part of ourselves (the slob, for example), we should get to know it. That if we do, it will transform from a perceived enemy to a friend, or, in the language of archetypes, that it will move from the shadow to the light.
Today I read that our parts can basically be divided into three groups–exiles, managers, and firefighters. Exiles are those parts of ourselves that we’ve banished because we find them shameful, embarrassing, weak, or vulnerable. Think of your inner child. At their core, our exiles are our most open, sensitive, creative, and intimacy-seeking parts, but we’re often afraid to listen to them or display them to the world because we’re afraid of being hurt (again).
Managers and firefighters are the parts of ourselves that exist to protect our exiles, although they go about it in different ways. Recently I spoke of building walls around your heart, and this is apparently what managers do. That is, they keep others at a distance to keep from being hurt (again). At the same time, managers are essentially people pleasers. They are the parts of ourselves that seek approval from others, put others first, and beat ourselves up in order to avoid loss from the outside. That is, your managers are those voices in your head that tell you you’re fat and lazy–not because they hate you, but because they’re afraid that if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be loved.
Again, firefighters also protect your exiles. But whereas managers are proactively trying to protect them, firefighters are reactively trying to protect them. That is, if and when you do start feeling shame, embarrassment, weakness, or vulnerability (or anything else that sucks), the firefighters are your parts that say, “Mayday, mayday! Eat chocolate cake. Smoke a cigarette. Binge watch The Office. Do anything but FEEL BAD.” Firefighters are apparently people dis-pleasers. They’re the parts of ourselves that make us fat (if you want to shut up your inner child, give it a donut), tell others to FUCK OFF, NANCY, and do other socially unacceptable things.
I really do like this way of looking at one’s personality, the idea that we all have parts. To me, it makes as much sense as anything else I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a lot). Basically because it’s true in my experience. Not that I’m Sybil, but I have dozens of voices in my head, and many of them sound different. Also, despite years of trying to ignore or change certain voices in my head (the critic, for example), it’s never worked. So I’m really coming around to this idea of getting curious and finding out WHY my different parts are the way the are.
Earlier this evening I dialogued with one of my managers, my inner critic, and he said he was so frickin’ hard on my appearance because he didn’t want people to laugh at us. In other words, he didn’t want my inner child to be rejected. Also, he said it was tiring and he really didn’t like criticizing me any more than I liked being criticized. But that he thought it was necessary. I said, Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter what other people say or do, as long as we don’t reject ourselves. So we’re working on another way.
I’m not sure how I’m going to tie the first half of tonight’s blog together with the second half. Likewise, I’m not absolutely sure that all my different parts can be tied together and convinced to work on the same team (eat chocolate cake, don’t eat chocolate cake), but I’m beginning to think it’s possible. That is, I’m learning that each part of me not only has a reason for the way that it’s thinking and behaving, but that it’s ultimately trying to help. And if it’s trying to help, there’s already a lot of peace in that, in the idea that I don’t have to fight and war with myself anymore. Rather, I can work to understand and have compassion for myself. This, I think, is the tie-in to the first part of the blog about criticism and blame. If you can make peace with the different viewpoints inside yourself, you can certainly make peace with the different viewpoints outside yourself.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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So perhaps perfection has little to do with that which changes and everything to do with that which doesn't. For surely there is a still, small something inside each of us that never changes, something that is timeless and untouchable, something inherently valuable and lovable--something perfect.
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