For those of us who’ve been diagnosed with CPTSD, real healing often begins the moment we stop asking, “What’s wrong with me?” And start asking, “What happened to me, and how did I adapt to survive it?” That shift is everything. It changes the whole lens through which we see ourselves.

However, knowing the right question is only part of the work.

The next step, finding the right therapy tools, the ones that actually meet you where you are, that’s where things get interesting.

One of those tools, for me and for many others navigating complex trauma, is Internal Family Systems (IFS).

What is IFS?

IFS is a therapeutic model developed by Dr. Richard Schwartz back in the 1980s. The idea is simple but kind of revolutionary: your mind isn’t a single voice. Rather, it’s a whole system of parts. And every part, no matter how annoying, loud, or avoidant, is actually trying to help you.

Yes, even the one that ghosted everyone for three days and binge-watched old cooking shows instead of doing your taxes. That part has intentions.

What makes IFS special is that it helps us get curious about these parts instead of shaming or exiling them.

For those of us with CPTSD, that curiosity can be the first breath of self-compassion we’ve had in years.

If you want to learn more about why trauma-informed therapy matters in healing from CPTSD, check out my post here: Why Trauma-Informed Therapy Matters for Healing

Wait, Parts?

Yup. In IFS, we’ve all got a cast of characters inside us. Here are a few you might recognize:

• The perfectionist who tightens up when you send a text with a typo.
• The Inner Critic, who’s basically a mean coach from the ’80s.
• The Wounded Child who carries all those raw feelings from when things really hurt.
• The people-pleaser who smiles through emotional chaos like it’s customer service.
• The firefighter who distracts you with snacks, wine, scrolling, or rage.

Importantly, each of these parts has a story. A job. A reason for existing. And the goal in IFS isn’t to exile or fix them; it’s to understand them.

So… What’s the Point?

At the center of all this chaos is something called the Self, with a capital “S.” Think of it as the you beneath all the noise. The self is calm, curious, compassionate, and capable of leading the internal system like a sort of benevolent, slightly tired middle manager.

IFS helps you access that self and use it to build trust with your parts.

Instead of saying, “Ugh, why do I always shut down in relationships?”

You start to say,

“Ah. A part of me shuts down. I wonder what it’s protecting.”

That shift?

It’s everything.

Why It’s Magic for CPTSD

For people like me, with complex PTSD, our parts can feel like they’re always on high alert. Some are working overtime to keep us safe. Others are frozen in fear or shame. A few might be locked away in emotional storage bins marked “DO NOT OPEN.”

IFS doesn’t treat those responses like disorders; it treats them like survivors.

It says:

• “Of course you had to become hypervigilant.”
• “Yes you had to learn to disappear.”
• “Let’s get curious about that, not judgmental.”

And for the first time, maybe ever, you realize:

You’re not broken. You’re beautifully adaptive.

Final Thought (Before One of My Parts Interrupts)

IFS isn’t about becoming some hyper-actualized, always-peaceful Zen machine. Rather, it’s about learning how to be with yourself in a different way. It’s weird. It’s powerful. And some days it feels like hosting a dysfunctional but lovable family reunion in your own head.

But the more I do it, the more I notice moments of quiet. Of kindness. Of…me.

And honestly? That feels like healing.

Curious about your own parts?

Try sitting with one today. Just ask, “What are you afraid would happen if you didn’t do your job?”
You might be surprised by what answers.

Photo by Keegan Houser on Unsplash