All the parts of us

insights from Blake Roberts on honoring the complexity of who we are

This week’s featured letter is from Blake Roberts, MMFT, a trauma and attachment-informed counselor based in Brentwood, Tennessee. Pull up a chair. This is a good one.

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Picture this: You’re going about your day, working hard and navigating life’s demands.

It’s just another Tuesday.

Suddenly, a familiar flutter stirs in your chest—a visitor you know all too well. Anxiety drops by, unannounced, like that person who wasn’t invited to the party but shows up anyway. Or maybe it's a tempting, addictive urge, whispering comforts from the past.

These moments, when guests like anxiety or addiction show up, offer us a chance to dig deeper and explore the "more to the story” if we’re willing.

What if you paused for a moment, acknowledged the feeling, and engaged with it rather than wishing it away?

What if this anxious part isn’t an enemy but rather a guide, trying to point you toward something you need to face? What if the addiction has much less to do with the substance of choice?

This is the theme I want to explore with you today—our relationships with anxiety and addiction and how inviting curiosity, compassion, and understanding into those spaces is necessary if we want to experience true change and healing.

Let’s explore how these “parts” of ourselves—specifically the anxious and addicted
parts—often compete for our attention.

The typical approach may have you believe that anxiety should be banished, or that addiction is a curse that labels you for life. But I invite you to rethink these narratives.

Doing so has tremendously helped me and many clients I work with in the therapy room. Rather than framing it as, “I’m just an anxious person” or “I’m an addict,” let’s consider a more empowering perspective: You have anxious parts, and you have addicted parts.

This may seem like such a small shift in language, and maybe it is, but language is important and this shift starts to honor the complexity of who we are.

This perspective is influenced by the Internal Family Systems therapy model, which
says that we all have multiple parts, each with its own role and story (think the Pixar
movie Inside Out). Each part, even those that surface in pain or struggle, has a
purpose.

Think about it—how often does your anxious part show up as a way to protect
you from perceived dangers? How many times has your addicted part attempted to
numb or distract you from deeper pain and/or unresolved issues? Instead of feeling
victimized by these parts, we can respond to them with empathy and curiosity.

Right now I can feel those who resonate with the “addict” identification questioning me, as if I’m minimizing or not fully admitting I’m powerless.

I get it. I come from 12-step recovery.

I entered the basement of a church and sat in a circle of chairs during a 12-step meeting long before I became a therapist. It was in some ways the beginning of my journey to becoming a therapist. Maybe that’s a story for another time.

So, when I propose saying I have “addicted parts” over “I’m an addict,” I know that can be controversial among the recovery community. I say it because it reflects my belief in the wholeness of the person beyond their behavior.

Addiction is a strategy that a part of you adopted during times of distress or trauma. It attempted to help, albeit in a misguided way, and acknowledging that allows for healing without defining a person entirely by their struggles. This reframe helps me have more compassion toward myself, which, in my opinion, is the most effective agent of true change.

Let’s dive a little deeper into how this works. Imagine the next time anxiety shows up
uninvited and crashes your party of life. Instead of trying to get rid of it by rationalizing, minimizing, or silver lining and moving on, what if you took a moment to breathe slowly and listen? Get curious and sit with that feeling for a moment.

Notice how it shows up in your body. Acknowledge that it’s showing up for a reason and that its intention is most likely not to make your life miserable. Then ask yourself, What is my anxious part trying to communicate to me? Is it a call to action—a reminder to slow down or address something you’ve been avoiding? Often, anxiety can serve as a crucial alarm, like the check engine light on your dashboard, to a deeper issue lurking in the background.

This same strategy can be applied to addiction—whether it’s a relationship with
substances, behaviors, or patterns that feel disruptive. Rather than suppressing those
“addicted parts” or shaming them, let’s observe and ask: What are they trying to tell us?

What was I feeling that prompted this part to step forward? When did they first learn this self-protective strategy? What is this addicted part afraid will happen if they don’t step in and take the drink, pick up another work shift, go to that porn site, or whatever your substance of choice is? If we turn away from them, we give in to their destructive strategies.

If we turn toward them, with this kind of dialogue that cultivates a compassionate perspective, we can see them for what they really are – remnants of our humanity longing for true connection.

Practical tools can certainly help and are important for dealing with anxiety and
addiction. Alongside encouraging dialogue with your parts, breathing exercises,
grounding techniques, and mindfulness strategies can be effective. There are many free resources available online for practices like these.

Here’s a guided exercise that can help you check in with yourself on a deeper level.

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Each time you give yourself permission to listen, you might discover valuable insights about yourself—underlying fears, desires, and longings that can guide your next steps. You are not just your anxious parts or your addicted parts; you are a rich, multifaceted tapestry of experiences, emotions, and potential.

As we unpack these parts, allow yourself the grace to approach your journey with warmth and curiosity. Embrace the complexity of your human experience, which is inevitably marked by moments of discomfort, struggle, and hope. This exploration isn’t meant to be neat and tidy; it’s messy, and that’s okay. It’s about understanding that healing is not a linear journey.

Every anxious moment, every connection to addictive patterns offers a chance to deepen your relationship with yourself. Which in turn can deepen your relationship with those you care about. This ongoing process can lead to incredible growth. I encourage you to take a moment each day to check in with your anxious and addicted parts.

What is one small action you can take to listen and understand what they are trying to communicate?

Perhaps it’s journaling a few lines about what you’re feeling, talking to a trusted friend, or simply sitting quietly and inviting those parts into your awareness without judgment.

Let’s keep this conversation going, share our stories, and support one another in embracing the fullness of our human experience. Exploring these layers together can help turn what once felt like burdens, into a source of insight and connection.

Learn more about Blake and subscribe to his phenomenal Substack, More to the Story.