Blaming parts can feel desperate to be seen and understood while, at the same time, they can ultimately expect to be ignored, judged, and misunderstood.
Recall the blaming parts in the scene with Fred, Sheldon, and Marla:
Fred sat comfortably in the therapist’s chair. In front of him, Marla and Sheldon looked at him with anticipation—Marla with incredulous frustration, Sheldon with defeat.
A couple of moments earlier, Sheldon brought up a fight from the previous evening. “Last night, I was trying to finish my work so I could put it aside for the night, and Marla got so angry she erupted in front of the kids.” Sheldon’s tone was logical and reasonable.
Marla jumped in, irritated and defensive. “Yes, I was angry. I got home late because of an important project at work. He picked up the kids but didn’t help them start their homework. I was doing everything that had to be done to get dinner on the table and respond to the kids’ crises. Sheldon just sat at the dining room table, ignoring everything but his emails.”
With insufficient support, understanding, and care for their deeply held emotional burdens, Sheldon and Marla have been demanding more from the only place in sight—themselves—when no one else around them is available, willing, and capable of giving them the support they need.
To the other-blaming part of Marla, Sheldon is selfish and uncaring and needs to “wake up” and provide more support. To the more covert, other-blaming part of Sheldon, Marla is unreasonable and demanding and needs to “wake up” and see that he needs care and support, too.
How old do you think these blaming parts are? Do you see them as personal, about the other, or having been around since Marla and Sheldon were little?
Blaming parts work hard to support young, exiled parts who have, in reality, never been seen, safe, and cared for. They represent the ordinary yet heart-breaking fact that most parents haven’t had sufficient emotional resources for themselves and, therefore, haven’t been able to care for all of their children’s emotional needs.
To protect their attachment, children often give up their anger. They often give up hope that they will be found in places of collapse and dissociation. They can let go of demands to be seen and appreciated for all the ways they need to care for and protect themselves. Blaming parts remember and continue searching for care that has still not been received.
Sheldon’s young exile tells him he is a constant disappointment because he is “inadequate,” “wrong,” “not good enough,” or “worthless.” This part hopes to keep Sheldon hidden and accommodating rather than angry and demanding of his own needs for support, understanding, and care. By disowning any negative impact of other’s needs and demands on himself, this child hopes to achieve acceptance and belonging and avoid burdening his family.
Marla’s young exile tells her she is “too much” to care for and “responsible” for caring for herself and others. This one helps Marla ignore her neglected self and become the parent, caregiving and directing others who are unavailable, unwilling, or incapable of caring for her. She hopes to be appreciated for keeping the family, including herself, intact. If only she could care enough, they would wake up, see, and care for her.
Blaming parts call out for attention and support: “Parts of me are trapped, hidden, and invisible. I need others to be capable and available to care for them so they can come out.” Because blaming parts themselves typically experience the opposite of caring and understanding, they can appear with a great deal of defensiveness.
Because many other parts, including the client’s self-like part, do not understand and appreciate blaming parts, I often start by addressing the self-like part and any others who might be listening in. If they are in the room, I also want to help the partner on the receiving end of the blame see the part as less threatening. I might say, with absolute genuineness:
“You are right. If only your partner were (the opposite of the judgment), you wouldn’t
suffer like this.I appreciate the wisdom of what you’re saying.”
“Anyone in your shoes would see it this way. You have a right to see it this
way and to this experience, even if other parts of you wonder if there might be
something else going on.”
“It makes sense that you’re working so hard to blame yourself. The last thing you’d
want to do is be angry at (or burden) the one person you need to care for you.”
“Gosh, I see how hard you’re working to improve yourself and become less
of a burden when you have no sense they can give you the support and understanding
you need.”
“It’s wise of you to put yourself down and try to change yourself rather
than let yourself be open to others’ judgments of you.”
“I’m so glad a part of you is standing up for you and shouting,
‘This isn’t all my fault.”
As I care for them, I monitor how blaming parts see me. So long as they are concerned whether I believe the content of their judgment, I’m a foe—someone who is there to be controlled by them. They relax their message and open up when they trust that I understand their more profound purpose.
Do you notice having more room to be curious and appreciative toward blaming parts: your own and your clients? I’d love to hear your thoughts and questions.