Beyond the Fog: Understanding IFS Unblending, Addictive Parts, and True Self

It was just this past weekend that I ventured on a challenging, strenuous hike with my two close friends. The hike had a 1000m elevation gain. Boy did I underestimate what that actually meant. The first 5.5 kilometres up the mountain accounted for about 600m of that gain. I thought my friend was exaggerating when he said it was 1000m total, because we had already scaled what felt like two-thirds of the mountain. Unfortunately it was true: we had 2.5km left and another 400m to climb until we reached the top. It was during this stretch that the mist closed in around us, and I felt the cold, damp air fill my lungs. That was the moment I realized I was in the clouds.

Being in the clouds, you begin to lose sight of your surroundings, much like how we lose sight of the bigger perspective when we are blended with our parts. Once we are in it, it is hard to gain any space until it feels too late. We feel like there is no seeing outside the perceptions of those parts. It almost feels as though they are hijacking our lives, when in fact they are simply on a mission to protect us from feelings they believe are too overwhelming for us to bear. Whether it shows up as scrolling, sex, alcohol, work, drugs, or anything else our parts reach for to help us cope, it can feel hopelessly exhausting to constantly live in the throes of our addictive cycles.

Standing in the clouds, I realized that the sky was simultaneously present all around me. No matter how dense the clouds appeared, the open sky remained constant. This parallel helps us understand how our protective parts may blend with us from time to time and obscure our true Self, but they can never destroy it. We can call on that core Self in our time of need to bring us back to center. Sometimes we need someone outside the fog to help us find our footing, guiding us through the process of IFS unblending to step back until we can view the part as something we care for, rather than who we are.

Once I ascended beyond the clouds on my way to the peak of the mountain, I found my perspective shifting. The damp chill gave way to crisp air, and the warmth of the sun hit my face. I could see the sea of clouds below as an object rather than an environment. With that distance, I could simply observe it. This shift in relationship to the clouds reminded me that the sky is always there, just like the air we breathe. By coming back to my breath, I can create the space to be with my parts rather than feel like I am my parts, opening up genuine compassion toward myself in the process.