Plan B — When Life Makes You Pause | IFS Therapy In New York
“It was the second time in one week that I walked up to the pharmacy section in CVS.
By this time, I knew Carlos’s favorite coffee drink — I’d been filling my prescriptions with the same pharmacist for years.
He was the person I saw when I had the flu, when I needed meds for strep throat, and every 90 days when I came for my Zoloft refill. He’s the best pharmacist in town.
But this time, I felt bad.
I felt dumb.”
Zelda looked haunted — pale, hollow, eyes wide.
She’s been doing deep trauma healing work lately — uncovering both the sweetness of childhood joy and the flashbacks of danger and isolation.
Her father was the storm; her mother, the quiet caretaker.
Safety, in her body, had always meant silence.
In my New York office, I’ve sat with many clients in this same moment — that fragile space between self-blame and self-compassion.
I could feel it happening in her now.
“Esther,” she whispered,
“I felt so ashamed because I went to him for the Plan B pill.”
“Oh,” I said softly. “You slept with Dave?”
“No! No, I didn’t sleep with Dave — and that’s why I’m horrified.”
Her voice cracked, and she burst into tears.
Her body folded in on itself like something collapsing under the weight of old grief.
When she caught her breath, she began to explain.
She and Dave had gotten into a painful fight and decided to take a short break.
In that fog of confusion and loneliness, she reached out to Jeremy — her ex-boyfriend.
Someone familiar.
Someone who once felt safe.
“It wasn’t about him,” she said through sobs. “I was angry. I was sad. I didn’t know what to do with myself — so I slept with him. Twice.
And then I went to get Plan B.
And when Carlos , the pharmacist, looked at me, I felt disgusting.”
She paused.
“I wasn’t mad at Dave. I was mad at myself. I couldn’t tolerate the discomfort. I just… needed to numb.”
I nodded gently.
We both knew this wasn’t about the act itself — but about the part of her that couldn’t bear the ache of disconnection.
As Dick Schwartz, founder of Internal Family Systems (IFS), says:
“Every part of us has a positive intention — even the ones that bring us pain. They protect us in the only way they know how.”
In that moment, Zelda’s firefighter part — the one that rushes in to soothe, distract, or sedate pain — had taken over.
It wasn’t about recklessness.
It was about survival.
I smiled softly and said, “Well, at least you took Plan B — that part made a solid decision,” and she managed a small laugh through her tears.
But we both knew the real work ahead wasn’t about the pill or the ex.
It was about learning how to hold herself in the storm of big, scary feelings — instead of turning against herself.
As Janina Fisher reminds us,
“When we can hold the pain of our parts without becoming them, the adult self becomes the compassionate witness.”
So that’s where we began.
Not with shame.
Not with judgment.
But with curiosity.
We unpacked what happened — slowly.
How the exiled child in her felt terrified of being alone.
How the firefighter rushed in to quiet the ache.
And how her wise adult self could begin to comfort those parts, instead of punishing them.
In my office New York where we use Parts Work Therapy and Somatic Therapy, these are the moments that transform people — when the body starts to realize it doesn’t need to run, hide, or self-destruct to find relief.
It’s not about being perfect; it’s about learning to stay present with what hurts.
I often see this same pattern in Parts Work Therapy: the ache that drives people to binge, to text the ex, to overwork, to disappear — it’s all the same impulse beneath the surface.
The part that says, “Please make this feeling stop.”
But healing happens when another part — your grounded, compassionate Self — whispers back,
“You don’t have to do that anymore. I’m here now.”
And over time, that voice grows stronger.
You begin to realize there’s another way to meet the pain — not by numbing or escaping it, but by feeling it, knowing it will pass, and trusting you can survive it.
That’s the work: building enough safety inside to ride the wave instead of drowning in it.
So to my dear reader, now I’m turning to you…
If you’ve ever found yourself doing something impulsive — reaching for an old comfort, numbing out, or engaging in something that left you ashamed — know this: it was a protector trying to help.
You’re not broken. You were trying to survive.
If someting about this resonates, drop a comment below, I’d love to hear!
And if you’re looking for one on one counseling or consulting in New York, reach out for a free 15 minute consult!
Through IFS therapy, Parts Work Therapy, EMDR or Somatic Work, you can begin to understand your inner parts so you can feel more wholesome and build safety, from the inside.
Take your first step- book a consult call here!
For Therapists and Psychologists
If you’re a therapist who holds stories like these every day — navigating the complexity of love, trauma, and transformation — I invite you to apply for the Trauma Mastery & Consultation Program.
It’s a high-touch mentorship for seasoned clinicians wanting to deepen their confidence with attachment healing, somatic therapy, and trauma-informed presence.