When you stop fighting what’s inside you and start loving it instead.
One of the biggest breakthroughs I’ve ever witnessed came during a 1-on-1 session of my Divorce to Direction program.
A man I’d been working with was finally face-to-face with his deepest, darkest fear—the absolute fear of being alone, and of ultimately not mattering.
For years, that fear had been labeled as a problem. Something to fix. Something to escape.
But this time, something different happened.
With the grounded energy and wisdom he’d uncovered from his “Inner Father,” he let the inner teen vent his rage, let the inner child cry, and finally welcomed that fear home.
He wept as he said,
“Ohhh… this has been neglected for so long.”
Now, when I ask him, “What is your deepest, darkest fear?” he answers like he’s talking about one of his own kids—with warmth, respect, and care.
That moment hit me deeply.
Some time ago, I was having dinner with friends and a deck of prompt cards made its way around the table.
My oldest son pulled one, looked at me, and asked,
“Dad, what’s your greatest fear?”
I didn’t need to search for an answer. I already knew.
“That everyone will leave and I will die alone.”
And when I said it, it didn’t sting.
It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t a wound being poked.
It was simply true.
Because that part of me—the one terrified of being left—had already been seen, felt, and loved.
It no longer ran the show.
That’s the power of working with your exiled parts.
In Internal Family Systems (IFS) and other forms of parts work, exiled parts are the aspects of us that were once pushed away—the younger, wounded, or shamed pieces that carry emotions we couldn’t handle at the time.
They hold our fear, our grief, our humiliation, our heartbreak.
They were never bad; they just learned to hide so we could survive.
The problem is, hiding doesn’t heal. Those parts resurface in the patterns we can’t shake—the panic when someone pulls away, the shutdown after conflict, the self-criticism that never rests.
When we finally turn toward them with compassion instead of judgment, something incredible happens:
We stop being run by what we repress. We start living from what we’ve integrated.
If you’re reading this and wondering where to start, here are some simple ways to begin recognizing your own exiled parts:
A few gentle ways to meet these parts:
No fixing. No rushing. Just presence.
We can’t “fix” exiled parts—because they were never broken.
They don’t need discipline; they need devotion.
Try these simple rituals to keep the connection alive:
Daily Check-In
Every morning, put a hand on your chest or belly and ask, “Who needs me today?” Listen for a whisper.
Letter Writing
Write to a part as if you were writing to a loved one. Then let it write back. You’ll be surprised what emerges.
Symbolic Reminder
Keep an object that represents that part—a small stone, a photo, a note. Touch it when you feel disconnected.
Community Practice
When you share something vulnerable, name the part first:
“A 10-year-old exile in me is scared to be seen right now.”
Watch how quickly the room softens.
Integration happens not in grand moments, but in small, consistent gestures of care.
In my work—and in my own life—I hear so many people describe parts of themselves as “what gets in the way.”
They say they’re trying to overcome their anger, or stop being too sensitive, or get rid of their fear.
But what if the thing in the way is the way?
What if, instead of fighting those parts, you welcomed them?
Listened to them? Learned from them?
When you do, something beautiful happens.
Your so-called weaknesses start working with you instead of against you.
The inner critic becomes your protector.
The fearful child becomes your intuition.
The lonely part becomes your compassion.
That’s how you turn an internal war into a team of allies.
That’s how you start leading your life—instead of being led by what you’ve banished.
If this speaks to you, take a few minutes today to check in:
Start there.
Then keep going.
About the Author
Aaron Musicant is a men’s divorce coach and somatic healing practitioner. He helps clients navigate separation, trauma, and personal transformation with clarity and compassion.