In my last post, I discussed how Marshall Rosenberg, the founder of Nonviolent Communication suggested we relate to our anger. According to Rosenberg, other people may provoke our anger, but they don’t cause it. The cause of our anger is an unmet need.
We’ll never get what we need if we keep insisting that someone else’s behavior is the cause of our unhappiness. Instead of saying “I am angry at you because you did X” we would be better off saying, “I am angry because I need Y.”
Acknowledging our needs, and expressing our pain when those needs aren’t met, makes us vulnerable. Being vulnerable in this way creates opportunities to be happier and more fulfilled.
It also creates opportunities to be hurt.
What if the other person doesn’t care what you need? What if they ridicule you for having needs? What if they meet your honest communication with a dishonest response?
Expressing my needs carries the risk of additional pain. Rather than exposing myself to this risk, I often choose to swallow my feelings. But this doesn’t serve me well. Unexpressed anger creates an emotional background noise of many mild resentments. And I lose out on the possibilities of deeper connections.
Although I understand this intellectually, I still sometimes ignore Rosenberg’s sage advice. Why? What stops me from communicating with a deeper level of honesty?
The psychologist Richard Schwartz helped me to understand.
Internal Family Systems
Richard Schwartz was trained as a family therapist. Our families exist outside of us. But Schwartz saw that we carry a family of personalities within us as well.
When he started practicing in the 1980s, Schwartz heard his clients say things like, “There’s a part of me that wants to stay calm and collected amid conflict, but there’s another part of me that wants to yell and scream.” These different “parts” can be imagined as our internal family.
Family therapists work to improve how family members interact and relate to one another. Schwartz recognized that growth and healing also include getting our parts to improve how they interact and relate. He called his approach “Internal Family Systems”(IFS).
Schwartz developed techniques that help us speak to one of our parts at a time. And we can listen to what that part has to say. What does the part that wants to yell and scream say when it has the chance to tell its side of the story?
This post can’t do justice to the full theory of IFS. But the framework of IFS can shed light on why I sometimes swallow my feelings instead of communicating the unmet needs that fuel my anger.
Allowing the parts to speak
Let’s go back to the example from my last post of a person who is habitually late to our meetings. This time, I’ll frame the discussion by applying insights from IFS.
Following Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication guidance, one part of me wants to say: “I really value spending time with you. When you didn’t show up, it made me wonder whether you value spending time with me as well.” Another part wants to snap at the person angrily for being rude and disrespectful. A third part wants to calmly ask the latecomer to make more of an effort to be on time. And yet another part (the one that often dictates my behavior) wants to swallow my feelings and move on.
Here's how the part of me that wants to swallow my feelings speaks to me:
“Communicating isn’t worth the effort. You’ve tried that and been ignored. Remember how it felt? Dan, you’re better off just keeping your mouth shut. Whatever discomfort comes from swallowing your feelings is nothing compared to the pain you feel when you advocate for yourself and get nothing.”
The part of me that wants to calmly request to make more of an effort to be on time says:
“Dan, stand up for yourself! You don’t need to show you’re angry or hurt, but you can at least ask for courtesy. When you don’t stand up for yourself, you feel like a doormat. Don’t let that happen again!”
The angry part says:
“Remember when you met rude behavior with an equal level of rudeness, and you got your way? Do that again! Don’t listen to those other parts. They’re weak and ineffective.”
The part that wants to share my concern the other person doesn’t value spending time with me says:
“If you allow yourself to be vulnerable, you have a chance at a more meaningful relationship. I know that’s what you want. Don’t let those other parts stop you.”
Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes) —Walt Whitman
Notice that each of my parts is, in its way, looking out for my best interests. From his experience with many clients, including people who did terrible things, Schwartz observed a common pattern. All parts behave as they do to be of service. Schwartz titled one of his books “No Bad Parts.” According to Schwartz, even the worst behaviors don’t originate from evil intent.
To whom are the parts speaking?
IFS skillfully works with one part at a time. But when just one part is speaking, who is listening? When Schwartz asked his clients this question, they said some version of, “That’s not a part. That’s me.” or, “That’s my Self.”
Unlike the other parts that have been conditioned by life’s ups and downs, the Self can’t be damaged. Religious traditions might refer to the Self as “the still small voice,” “inner wisdom,” “Christ consciousness,” “Buddha nature,” or “spirit.” There are other names as well.
Schwartz identified eight characteristics of the Self. In IFS, these are known as “the eight C’s of the Self.” The eight C’s are clarity, creativity, compassion, calm, curiosity, connection, courage, and confidence.
How do you know if your Self is present rather than some other part? It’s possible to be fooled, but when these characteristics are evident, the Self is likely present.
To gain the insights IFS has to offer, I move beyond the parts arguing with each other. I give each part the respect and honor it deserves by asking it to tell me why it thinks and behaves as it does. And I listen to each part—patiently, curiously, and without debate—from my Self.
Applying IFS to anger
When my anger gets kindled, IFS encourages me to discover what the angry part is telling me, and why. The point isn’t to argue with the angry part and convince it that it’s wrong. The point is to listen and learn. If I listen with compassion and clarity, I’ll always learn something important.
When I think I’ve learned everything the part has to offer, I can ask the part if it can trust I will be okay if I were to behave in a way counter to its original advice. And then I have to listen very carefully to how the part responds.
Maybe the answer is no, the part doesn’t trust I’ll be okay. In this case, I can ask what it thinks I still need to learn.
And maybe the answer is yes. If the answer is yes, I can ask the part if it would be willing to take a step backward. At this point, the part is usually glad to comply. It’s happy to find a different use for its creative energies. As the concerns of our parts become better integrated, our behavior can become more Self-led.
It would be difficult to conduct this introspection and investigation while burning with anger. Rather, IFS provides a way for me to understand my responses and reactions after the fact. Over time, IFS helps a person become more Self-led and less subject to the impulses of their parts.
How should I respond to the habitually late person?
It depends.
Each of my parts has some hard-fought wisdom to offer. Each part needs to be listened to closely. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all answer. Everyone is different. And every situation is different.
In my last post I wrote:
Noticing I was angry because I felt hurt, recognizing that my hurt comes from a concern that the person might not want to spend time with me, and then verbalizing that concern so we can have a conversation about it—that takes a kind of emotional courage that’s hard to muster.
I aspire to behave with this level of emotional awareness and courage. But the truth is, I often don’t succeed.
It’s okay for me to aspire to this emotional courage. But I have parts that want to protect me from this level of vulnerability. Until I’ve incorporated and addressed their concerns, my parts will often be the ones that determine my behavior.
The advice from Nonviolent Communication is to be Clear about my desire for Connection, and then with Courage and Confidence, Calmly state my needs. I can then listen to the response with Curiosity and Compassion. Both Nonviolent Communication and IFS want me to become more Self-led.
I can say the words suggested by Nonviolent Communication without having done the emotional work of integrating my parts. Sometimes that might even be a good choice.
But if I’m just saying the words, I’ll be playing the “part” of someone who is Self-led. If I’m feeling insecure and scared while trying to act confident and courageous, I’ll know the difference. And so will others. There are no shortcuts.
Psychology or spirituality?
My emotional and spiritual growth has allowed me to become more comfortable with sharing the soft and vulnerable parts of my heart with others. I’m still very much a work in progress but I can also look back and see how far I’ve come.
The insight from IFS—that the Self is in everybody, can’t be damaged, knows how to heal, and shows up spontaneously when it’s given a proper invitation—is an insight shared by spiritual traditions. IFS can be understood as belonging to both psychology and spirituality.
IFS provides the perfect segue from psychological insights on how to relate to anger to learning about anger from spiritual traditions.
Do religious teachings on anger provide useful guidance?
I will address this question in future installments of Not So Random Thoughts.
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Nice intro to IFS and nice integration of IFS and NVC. I don’t know if you knew this, but I’m in what is called an Authentic Communication Group every week. The four pillars of these groups are NVC, IFS, staying in the here and now, and DEI. It is a place where I get to practice here and now wholesome communication.
Thank you for reminding me why I love IFS so much. And I totally get the vulnerability part. Three years into intense mothering a baby and a toddler 18 months apart when I asked my husband to “help me get back to writing (meaning, myself. Meaning, a break) or I’ll go mad” his reply was, “you’re such an actress. Could you be more dramatic?” So my desperate cry was met with humiliation. And it eventually killed our marriage.