Somatic IFS Self-Session

ShareDo you ever start to feel heavy? Then feel… nothingness?

When I give the nothingness a little bit of space, I start to notice tears welling up in my eyes. A wave of emotions gently begins to show its presence.

The emotion feels almost afraid to be seen, so it recedes again, leaving me back in the numbness. This nothingness feels heavy and dull, lacking color and luster for life.

There’s a part of me that tries to "fix" it by understanding it, negotiating with it through tasks and logic. But when I move from this place, everything I do feels empty — offered from a shell of a body with no soul inside.

So I come back to giving it space, using tools like this writing practice to give it a voice. Am I better?

No, not really. But I’m sitting up now instead of lying down. I’m doing something rather than nothing. And yet, the cloud of sadness is still very present.

I ask the sadness:

What do you want to share with me?What can I learn from you? What might I offer you?

She hesitates. Then I hear another voice:

“You should be grateful. You’re wasting your life.”

The heaviness returns, and I feel farther away from her — harder to hear her.

I remember some of what she’s shared before. I bring a thought into my awareness, and there she is again: tender and teary.

I ask her to stay. I tell her I can hold her and all she’s feeling. She doesn’t fully believe me. There is resistance. And yet — a single tear falls down my left cheek.

I say thank you to that tear, and I breathe gently into it. As I do, I feel constriction in my chest. The breath is shallow, so I don’t force it. I match her tenderness and slowness — meeting her exactly where she is.

I feel the urge to dive in, to ask her many questions, to move through this faster and find answers. But the part of me that knows this work reminds me: That is not the way.

So I pause. I wait. I allow.

Suddenly, I hear:

“I am not happy.”

This voice sounds different — a bit louder, almost as if shouting to be sure I don’t walk away without hearing it.

Okay. Let me sit with this: I am not happy.

A thought of my husband moving arises. Tears well up again. Then another voice chimes in, snarkily:

“You weren’t happy before that either.”

True. And I feel deep sadness about this now, too.

Can it be that there are multiple reasons for this sadness? Can I hold both — the sadness about him moving and something else?

I ask myself: How does it feel to hold both?

I scan my body and feel contraction in my chest again — shallow breath. I gently breathe into my chest, and even invite the breath down into my belly.

Then, fear arrives. It feels like a cloak over the sadness — the sadness is still there, but hidden.

I notice my eyes moving quickly, scanning (hypervigilance). I take gentle breaths and offer space to all of it.

My head feels strange — maybe from the coffee, maybe from the scanning and fear. I simply notice it, and continue to breathe gently.

I ask:

Who else wants to share?

Voices arise:

• Nothing is working.

• Nothing is fulfilling.

• Dead inside.

• Lost.

• Done.

• I have everything — why am I stuck?

• I am not good enough.

• I have nothing to offer.

• I am losing time.

• I am stuck.

I acknowledge them all: I hear you. I will sit with all of this.

I tell them:

I will be back. I hear you, and I will sit with you again. For now, I just need a bit of space.

Notes for the student:

This share beautifully illustrates the inner process of working with parts through an IFS (Internal Family Systems) and somatic lens.

Key elements at play:

• Welcoming and giving space to "nothingness": Rather than trying to bypass or fix numbness, we invite it in. Often, numbness is a protective part shielding deeper pain or vulnerability.

• Gentle inquiry and curiosity: Instead of pushing or forcing insight, we approach each part with curiosity: What do you want me to know?

• Tracking somatic cues: Noticing tears, chest tightness, shallow breath, and hypervigilant eye movements helps us stay connected to the body rather than getting lost in cognitive stories.

• Respecting pacing: The urge to "get through it quickly" is natural, but true integration requires patience and presence.

• Multiple voices and polarizations: We often encounter conflicting parts — one expressing deep sadness, another shaming us ("you should be grateful"), another scanning for danger. Holding space for all of them, rather than merging with or fighting them, allows deeper healing.

• "I hear you, I will return": We can reassure parts that they won’t be abandoned, even if we need to pause. This builds trust in our internal system.

For practice

• Next time you feel "nothingness," try giving it space rather than pushing it away.

• Notice and name what arises — both feelings and body sensations.

• Practice staying with the pace of the part rather than rushing for solutions.

• Use writing or voice notes as tools to give your parts a safe place to express.