Parts Run
When I was young, my Dad would often ask me if I wanted to go on a “parts run”. My parents were both auto mechanics with their own small garage. They had long workdays to make ends meet so time was a particularly valuable commodity. In order to spend time with my Dad, I used to treasure riding along with him to a patch work of auto supply stores in the area to find essential parts and pieces that make a car run perfectly. Each parts store had its own feel and the cast of characters behind each counter became a part of the fabric of my life. At the time, none of this had any deeper meaning than being able to spend a few minutes with my Dad. These memories surfaced today as I began to think about my own “parts” in a much deeper way.
When I think about my own parts, I envision myself almost cactus-like with nourishing life on the inside and prickly spines on the outside. I want to share the water within, but when someone approaches, they are in danger of getting stung. I say or do something that holds them at bay. Then comes the shame when my words, energy or actions on the outside don’t match the intentions of my insides. I say things to myself like, “I thought that I already worked through that. Why can’t I stop doing this?”. The shame makes me want to silence that part of me and set about trying to let the love inside be what is visible on the surface. And I fail. Time and time again.
I have learned that the goal is not to make the parts go away. My first job is to stop and ask it questions.
Why are you here today?
What are you trying to tell me?
What do you need from me?
When I ask these questions of that spiney part of myself, I realize that the prickles are the gatekeepers that keep me safe. They aren’t trying to hurt me—just the opposite. They are there to ask people about their intentions and judge if they are going to hurt me. It’s the part of me that wants to know if I can trust others with the deepest parts of myself. It is trying to help me in the only way it knows how. The spines can actually be good because they slow things down and give me time to truly assess whether I want someone in my life beyond a superficial level. Sometimes those spines are right on because I realize that someone doesn’t deserve to connect with my spirit. It’s all just information. I then get to decide as an adult who to let it and who to keep at arm’s length.
All these parts of me are as unique as the different shop clerks at the parts stores. They all have their jobs to do, and all are trying to keep me running smoothly and safely by giving me the pieces that make up the whole. My work is to notice them, name them, ask their purpose, thank them, and then use that information to do what is best for the whole of me. As I begin to change how I approach my parts, they begin to mature and change as well. They learn the nuances and are not so quick to respond. Or they let me know when I have over responded and have some clean up to do. We begin to work in partnership, instead of fighting for control.
I encourage you to go on a “parts run”. What part is trying to get your attention right now? What is it trying to tell you? How can you start to work with it instead of against it?
**For more information on parts work, I highly recommend the work of Richard Schwartz. His newest book, “No Bad Parts” is a great place to start.
