One problem with my last post was the implication that shaming and soothing both come from outside, from other people. IFS (and some other therapeutic approaches) take a very different stance. It’s what’s inside that counts.
The comments on last week’s post were great, and I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to reply yet. But obviously people in the addiction community are very familiar with how shame exacerbates addiction. I ended the post with the (also familiar) observation that connections with caring others is the sure-fire antidote to shame. Yet this is so often a losing battle, because addicts increasingly isolate themselves.
So what happens when we focus on our insides, under the skin, not on the reactions of those around us?
First let’s think about where shame actually comes from. We imagine that it’s other people who cause us to feel shame, through their deprecating remarks, anger, accusations, and so forth. But other people aren’t required. Our own internal critic 
actually induces shame with little or no validation needed. IFS calls this critic a manager — a part whose job it is to anticipate others’ reactions and try to avert worst-case scenarios. But notice: anticipation is a mental state, not a social exchange. It’s really just a belief we carry around with us.
Second, in addiction, this internal critic grows increasingly hostile and shaming…the longer we continue using. And why shouldn’t it? Shaming children is a powerful (if often flawed) means for getting them to shape up. So try it! Except that now…nobody’s listening…
I spent years researching the emotional lives of young children, and one experiment stands out most in my memory. My grad student Carla and I set up scenarios where 3-5-year old kids would accidentally pull off the arms of a toy doll 
— one she’d already prepped with an exacto knife. Then Carla would say “Oh no!” and “Oh my!” (at timed intervals) while gazing at the child’s face. The poor kid would then look away, hide his or her head, and often protest: It’s not my fault! An internal shame-inducing “program” was now at full throttle.
(Just so you know, psychologists aren’t all sadists. Carla took a lot of time to reassure the children by showing how the dolls were pre-cut and then playing with them, soothing and comforting if needed. )
Carla didn’t cause the shame. She helped trigger it. But it was the child’s spring-loaded shame-inducing circuit that did the rest. And that network stays with us for life, simply adding to its bank of of contemptible deeds along the way.
Cece Sykes is an IFS therapist and Senior Trainer with the Internal Family Systems Institute, who has made it her mission to refine IFS ideas and techniques to help people with addictions. I’ve been lucky enough to engage her as a consultant for my psychotherapy practice. Cece points out that, especially in addiction (but also in abuse survivors), all that shame travels to exactly the wrong (inner) location. As you know from my previous posts, IFS relies on the idea of parts. And the druggie part (what IFS calls the Firefighter — and Cece sometimes calls the Distractor) is much too strong and too smart to listen to this shaming inner critic. I know exactly how to feel better, it says. I don’t have to listen to you. I’ve done this countless times before. See ya.
Defiance feels a lot better than denigration.
So you call your dealer and get some stuff. But what happens to all the shame flowing from the enraged and frustrated critic? It goes to the child part of us, the part that is already overcome by self-doubt, helplessness, despair, and yes, shame — the part that fuels the need to get high in the first place! Cece calls this “a reservoir” that keeps filling up. With shame. Because, as we can see from Carla’s experiment, children (including our inner child) are exquisitely vulnerable even to a hint of blame or accusation. So when that inner critic is lambasting us, we continue to crumble inside. And getting high is by far the most obvious solution.
As noted last week, the addict’s shame is so wounding because of lost connections with caring, loving others. So what’s left? How can we be soothed? IFS is all about establishing and reinforcing connections within us. The theory points to a calm, empathic centre in each of us. The part that’s not a part. They call it Self with a capital S. To me, that centre feels like a warm glow of self-forgiveness or self-compassion or just I’m-ok-ness, though of course words don’t do it justice.
When the inner child is writhing with shame, this self-forgiveness can connect with it, regardless of who’s out there in the world. You can say to that fragile part, I get how ground-up you feel, how long it’s been going on. I care about you. And I can 
keep you company, so you don’t have to be so alone. I know it sounds almost trite. Oh, that’s self-compassion…we know about that. No, it’s not that simple. This is the act of connecting with a part that has been expelled — innumerable times — because that’s what shame does. A part that’s desperate for compassion…or, at first, at least, a bit of company.
As the child’s shame is soothed and softened, the urge to use or drink may soften as well. But that’s not the whole story. There’s still this druggie/drinker part, this Firefighter, in full regalia, ready for action, laughing at the critic. According to 
Cece, that firefighter can also be helped by the part that’s not a part. It can be talked to — hey there! — but not by The Critic. Rather, it needs to hear from the Self, which can say: I’ve got your back. I’m not the familiar part that’s always screaming at you, that critic. I’m going to help take care of things. You don’t have to do all this drastic stuff yourself. And just between us, you do leave quite a mess.
When the firefighter actually gets a sense of that kind, friendly and competent person — who You are, despite the crazy gyrations of your parts — it gets to relax a bit, breathe a bit, and slow down. (We don’t have to get smashed every night!) It might also try other outlets. It may welcome the chance to be independent, even sassy, without making such an enormous mess.
The point is, now there are connections, internal relationships, a kind of sharing. When before there were only separated, isolated voices and needs, each with its own quirky strategy. From this place, anything’s possible.
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