per·ma·nence
/ˈpərm(ə)nən(t)s/
noun
The state of lasting or remaining unchanged indefinitely.
The Serenity Prayer, an important part of 12 step programs, says, “ God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference.”
This past week, I hit a wall with my parts. They were polarized. One part wanted acceptance and the other part wanted to reject reality.
Of what? For me, it isn’t accepting things I can change. I have mastered asking myself that question. It is the bigger question, have I accepted things I cannot change? Or am I believing a big myth that (insert thing here) will get better? Am I staring at a long downward trend, convincing myself it’ll turn around any day now? Metaphorically speaking, am I watching a very hungry cougar stalk me on the trail and believing that if I deny its existence, I won’t get eaten?
I have chronic health conditions that are permanent. They will last forever, regardless of how perfectly I live my life, eat, take my meds, exercise, or whatever the internet tells you will cure depression, diabetes, or (insert thing here).
But damnit, I have this part of me that nags me to death and tells me that if I was just a little more perfect in (everything), that I would somehow never have another bipolar moment or be cured of diabetes. Perfection holds hands with a lot of other parts in my system.
The cure for my permanent health conditions doesn’t exist. Being that denying something permanent is completely illogical, the only way to resolve this polarization is to redefine my relationship with all the parts involved. Like the health condition, I must live with all of them every day.
In IFS, we’d call this moment a trailhead — a point where discomfort invites curiosity. At my trailhead, there’s a whole gang waiting for me: perfection, fear, shame, and their friends. Let’s name it Health Acceptance. Because of this model of parts work, I am slowly gaining the “wisdom to know the difference” when it comes to accepting things I cannot change or changing the things I can. I have had to sit with my perfection part and ask what would happen if things weren’t perfect. I have learned that it is young, probably around age 5, and fears ridicule/embarrassment/rejection/shame/guilt/sadness/anger of doing anything imperfectly. Those are all parts by the way.
I have been afraid of this gang at the trailhead for a long time. We have been rivals. They own the land at the trailhead. Its been their territory forever and will always be. When I think about accepting my diagnoses, I feel many of those feelings. Those feelings, as with any feeling, is an important part of who we are, and carries important wisdom. We have to redefine our relationships with them, and accept that we are imperfect, and that feeling (or even the threat of feeling) ridicule/embarrassment/rejection/shame/guilt/sadness/anger is totally normal. These often uncomfortable feelings are what helps motivate us to grow and heal ourselves.
Before I can explore and conquer the trails behind the trailhead, I have to first befriend the gang and ensure they feel safe and respected. Before I can explore what’s beyond that trailhead, and before I can live meaningfully with my chronic conditions, I have to make peace with the gang guarding the path. I must approach and befriend the fear of ridicule, the fear of embarrassment, etc…and show them that I am not 7 anymore and that I am a 42 year old living in a safe, healthy, supportive environment. That they are safe now.
When the gang feels safe, they bring wisdom.
When my parts are unburdened, they give me courage.
And when my inner child feels loved, they offer me serenity — to accept what I cannot change.