Oct 2025: Pre-expansion Wobbles
The rug got ripped out from under me near the beginning of the month; so, I’ve been in recovery mode. I debated even writing a blog this month. My journal entries have been all over the place. I spent quite a bit of time with my Internal Family System [Nov 2024] which has been enlightening. The gloomy weather isn’t helping. I need sunshine; and there isn’t much in the forecast for the next week. Therefore, I am going to have to root around in my therapeutic toolbox to get me through, such as sticking to routines, assigning myself at least one task to complete per day, watching that my thoughts don’t spiral out of control, daily affirmations, and above all, music.
In the end, I decided that my journal entries about my internal family system will write the blog for me this month. So what has my internal family system taught me? One analogy that came to mind right after the rug was ripped away was of being on life support. I wrote on October 8th: “Feels like I’ve been taken off life support; and everyone is waiting for me to breathe on my own. My entire IFS is waiting with baited breath.” I’m not certain who was on life support; but it makes the most sense that it was “me,” the Narrator. I like the imagery of the team/family surrounding me, discussing in quiet whispers what next steps will be. All lovingly watchful and hopeful – silently cheering me on.”
The next day, I wrote about being tired of coming home to myself, and that cPTSD makes it that much harder – “we’ve never felt at home; so we don’t even know how to provide that for our Selves. My IFS is in chaos; and the Narrator needs a break – doesn’t know how to tell the story from here. Where is the story supposed to go? Eeyore, of course, is defeatist. Piglet is anxious. Winnie-the-Pooh wants to eat. Rabbit (OCD) is overthinking – round and round. Owl (inner critic) is in I-told-you-so mode and “What else could I expect?” Tigger (neurodivergence) is out of control – can’t focus or motivate the team to get tasks done. The cPTSD Heffalumps are ready to stampede. Kanga (nurturing mother figure) and Roo (inner child) are beyond confused. Nobody knows what to do – not even Christopher Robin, the fixer.”
In that same entry, I explore the question of how to feel at home within myself. “The Narrator has to comfort the IFS. They have to work together. Winnie-the-Pooh must resist eating to fill the void, and help the team with his pithy wisdom and mindfulness. He can calm Piglet – the team always has each other; and we’ll deal with the worst-case scenario when we get to it. For today, we have to come together and soothe the Narrator. Rabbit has to distract himself from obsessing about the situation. Owl needs to be quiet and simply be a still, calming presence as part of the team – not above it. He can no more survive without the rest than any other team member.
“Eeyore needs to be reminded that all is not lost – depression is a deceptive blanket of comfort. Tigger will do his best to focus and complete at least one task. However, Eeyore is really pulling for despondency and doing nothing, rolled up in the blanket of doom. I think the team needs to circle Eeyore and remind him he is loved and cared for, and always has a family within this IFS. Yep. The team needs to sit with Eeyore in silence. Being together. They’ve got each other.
“As helpless as Kanga and Christopher Robin feel – they can’t fix it – but they can be with Eeyore. Piglet and Rabbit can’t obsess about finances – it won’t help or change anything. We must let this play out, let the chips land where they may. When the storm blows over, we will pick up the pieces and see what we can do with them – together as a team.”
Later in the month, around my birthday, I discovered the concept of “pre-expansion wobbles” which evolved over the week into exploring cocooning in preparation for metamorphosis into a beautiful butterfly.
“So often, the moment right before something extraordinary arrives is the moment life feels the most unfamiliar, the most tender, the most uncomfortable. It doesn’t mean you’re off track. It doesn’t mean you’re out of alignment. It means you’re in the stretch – suspended between who you’ve been and who you’re becoming. The pre-expansion wobbles are real. But they’re not a signal to quit or turn back. They’re an invitation to lean in. A quiet whisper reminding you: you’re almost there.” Moon Omens Oct. 16
On the 24th, I was really struggling with a feeling of angst that I couldn’t identify. As an empath, I wasn’t sure if it was mine or picking up something from elsewhere. When consulted, no one in my IFS claimed ownership. In the context of metamorphosis, I explored if the angst was part of releasing the caterpillar (grief work), and noted “The Narrator is transitioning from caterpillar to butterfly. What that will look like remains to be seen. At any rate, a different framework/outlook.”
The next day, I considered adding a “generous empath” to my IFS in the form of a fragile yet powerful butterfly (or gypsy moth as per the animated film, “A Bug’s Life” which of course I had to watch as Heimlich’s phrase, “I’m a beautiful butterfly” kept going through my head). In a somewhat comic twist, I even considered incorporating a dragon; but a butterfly seems easier to adapt to the Winnie-the-Pooh cast of characters.
“Not every breakthrough will be loud. Much of your growth hums softly beneath the surface, like roots expanding where no one can see. Some moments don’t ask for action, they ask for awareness. That calm you feel now is alignment easing into place. The body speaks in pulses. The soul speaks in pauses. Let this day be the soft exhale between becoming and being.” Source Messages, Oct. 25.
Today, I noted that my IFS has healed a lot and is working together much better – more a cohesive whole than fragmented parts. And that is what my therapy mash-up of Narrative Internal Family Systems is all about – learning to accept all parts, what each contributes, how each needs to step back, and how they come together to support each other. It takes time, patience, and practice; but eventually, a shift occurs from fragmented to whole, creating a new framework and outlook on life. There is hope, regardless of what life throws at us, if we pursue our own healing.