So MAD at myself!
The other morning I opened my laptop at the coffee shop and did not stop “tasking” for three straight hours.
I completed each task as if I were competing in productivity timed trials.
By the time I stood up I had a crick in my neck and I couldn’t look left. I had to pee soooo bad that I speed-walked to the bathroom praying no one was inside.
I had answered every email, online shopped for things I did and didn’t need, reconciled finances, built a breathwork playlist.
As I packed up and headed to my car, I WAS SO MAD AT MYSELF!
Why? Because!
“This is not who I am!”
“I am a graceful creature of presence and peace (or at least I should be)!”
“I am a model of self-possession! Not a slave to my unconscious motivations and lifelong addictions!”
While I had been “tasking,” a voice in my head sounded like this: “Just one more. Almost there. Let’s just finish. So close.”
I’ve named this voice “Chekov” because this part of me is obsessed with checking things off.
At the same time, another voice sounded like this: “I don’t like this. I have to pee. My neck hurts. This sucks.”
This voice is “Pinkie.” She speaks for the kid in me who thinks life should be fun! Always! Work sucks!
Below this surface level debate, were more subconscious thoughts and feelings stirred by each email or project: Irritation. Excitement. Frustration. Overwhelm. Resentment. Gratitude.
But I couldn’t process any of these things fully because Chekov is obsessed with SPEED.
“The faster I go, the more I can get done!”
The language here is important, Chekov doesn’t “do” things, Chekov “gets things done.” It’s not an engagement, it’s an acquisition. It’s a scarcity-based greed.
By the time I woke from my trance, I could tell I hadn’t been breathing very well. I hadn’t been inhabiting my body at all.
Have you ever put your fingers in one of those finger traps and pulled? That’s what had been happening inside me. Chekov wanted to complete tasks and Pinkie wanted to play.
Chekov has been the boss in my system for a long time, so he often wins, but Pinkie sure knows how to make her resistance known: Neck pain. Back pain. Victimhood. Fury.
“What is wrong with you? How could you do this again? You suck. I hate you.”
She’s yelling at me. But in this story, who is “me?” I am “me,” the one responsible for listening to all my inner parts, to see what they’re needing, and if I can help the system as a whole function together.
In this story, “Me” was asleep at the trackpad.I don’t literally have “parts” (I don’t think) but I do have multiple values and priorities that sometimes seem to conflict.
Without honest self-listening and internal communication, fear-based motives can often take precedent before other options surface. These motives usually boil down to wanting approval, love, safety, and some sense of control.
These motives spawn habits, like unrelenting inbox-zero, speed-texting, or unconscious snacking. These habits often feel like they have a life of their own and I am powerless to stop them.
Check it out, Chekov! That is another part. There is a part in here that feels powerless to change. She feels and sounds a bit like Eeyore, poor thing.
So what do I do about it?
I dare to slow down, even just a little bit, and pay attention to myself like I actually believed I’m worth that attention.
When I say “slow down” Chekov panics; he has a need for speed. So I have to remember that Chekov is using a strategy devised at a young age: He acts like a mature adult who is “taking care of business” but deep down he’s operating from a place of desperation for love through accomplishment.
No wonder Chekov doesn’t care that I have to pee—my self worth is at stake!I see all this when I turn toward myself lovingly, and ask questions with genuine curiosity.
“Hey, Chekov/self, what happened for you today at the coffee shop? Were you scared of anything? Were you wanting anything? What do you want me to know? Tell me everything.”
And then I listen. I listen with my whole body and mind. I listen for words (and often write them down). I listen for body sensations. I listen for memories or information that I may have skipped over on auto pilot. I listen to my own heart.
What I hear isn’t actually nearly as important as the fact that I’m caring enough to listen; to value my experience, no matter what that experience is.
When I take care of myself in this way, I realize I’m not really mad at myself. But some parts of me are mad. They’re not mad that I overworked, they’re actually mad that I didn’t consider, care, or collaborate.
This all takes time, but so does internal war.
Do I always listen? Oh h*** no. As evidenced by this story. But I listen sometimes, and the more I do, the better it feels and the more I trust the process.
If this approach speaks to you, it’s based on the work of Internal Family Systems (IFS). The book No Bad Parts, written and read by the creator of IFS, is an easy entry.
If your parts would like a loving container during a breathwork journey join me at a future event: