I’m undertaking a 1000-day reinvention project, focused on launching a writing and advisory business around personal finance for GenXers. I’m blogging here daily to track my progress. In Saturday Sales, I learn about and plan for selling products and services.
I’m switching it up today and instead of writing about how to sell my own content and offerings to someone else, I’m going to explore how to sell myself on sticking to a plan and goal I’ve committed to.
I’m going to use the framing of Internal Family Systems therapy to surface the different parts of myself that are for or against going forward and committing to the plan.
And what exactly is the plan? Well, it is still rather vague, but the general idea is to focus on writing to start, not a podcast, and build up an email list and buzz around my novel approach to midlife personal finance, work, and life in general.
With IFS, you identify different parts of yourself that are taking on various roles in managing your life.
- Managers manage daily functioning and keep other, more difficult parts of your self in control. They can be perfectionistic and detail-oriented.
- Exiles develop as a reaction to trauma and shameful memories. Managers attempt to keep these in the background, but they can break through and surface.
- Firefighters provide thoughts, feelings, and behaviors as a last line of defense before Exiles start their antics. They can use both healthy and unhealthy behaviors as coping mechanisms to keep the Exiles quiet and contained.
In the context of my new project, I can identify the parts of me and their actions that might be keeping me from fully committing to my new path:
- I have a social propriety Manager who says, “you can write and share your ideas but you must first make them perfectly acceptable to everyone else. You cannot sound cheesy in your writing. You cannot promote your work in unsavory fashion. You probably should write your entire book first. Then and only then may you start to build an audience.”
- I have a Firefighter who, at the first suggestion of disapproval or even lack of approval from the world at large, shuts the whole project down. “I suggest you try a different approach,” says my firefighter. “That one didn’t work.” She doesn’t give me time and space to build up momentum.
- And who is the Exile that these two are trying to keep hidden? It is the part of me who has tried without success to make creative headway: the seventh grader put in eighth grade art who felt inadequate amongst the apparently amazing artists surrounding her, the book author in the 2000s who couldn’t tap into her own voice or her own powers of promotion, the forty-something technologist who wanted desperately to create her own platform but did so little to make it happen that of course she failed.
With IFS, you don’t seek to eliminate the managers and firefighters who are making your life difficult. You find the positive qualities of those parts and get them aligned with what your true self seeks.
My Manager is trying to help by setting high standards, but she is stymieing. My Fireghter as well wants to protect me, but by continuing to suggest alternative paths when one feels uncomfortable is keeping me stuck in a repetitive loop of starting things and not following through.
So how do I move forward? How do I bring these protective parts into alignment instead of letting them run the show?
With IFS, the goal isn’t to exile the Exile or shut down the Firefighter or shame the Manager into silence. The goal is to listen to them, thank them for their efforts, and help them trust the Self, that core, calm, capable part of me who holds the vision for what I want to create.
So I invited them into an internal roundtable. Here’s how it went:
To the Manager, I said:
“Thank you for caring about quality and my reputation. I know you’re trying to help me be respected, to avoid embarrassment or rejection. What if we set a bar that is achievable, not paralyzing? What if I write in a voice that’s smart and genuine—not perfect, but sincere—and trust that the right people will respond?”
She was skeptical, but intrigued. She wants to see a plan. She likes calendars and milestones. So I agreed: I’ll draft a light structure—a writing cadence, a few themes, maybe a 3-month roadmap that doesn’t overpromise but still builds momentum.
To the Firefighter, I said:
“I know you want me to avoid the crushing disappointment of trying and failing again. I feel that fear too. But we’ve learned something from every false start. This time, I won’t expect instant validation. I’ll focus on process, not praise.”
She relaxed a little when I promised to build in rest and fun. I assured her this path won’t be all exposure and stress. The focus will be on experimentation, not performance.
And to the Exile, I said:
“I see you. I remember how painful those past failures were, how much you wanted to be seen and how deeply it hurt to be overlooked or dismissed. You don’t need to carry that shame anymore. That wasn’t your fault. You were brave to try.”
I imagined holding that seventh grader’s hand, telling her the truth: You were never inadequate. You were just early. And you still have something to say.
From this place, I could feel a little more calm and a bit more alignment.
So here’s the modest, do-able, Self-led plan:
- I’ll write weekly on my newsletter for the next eight weeks.
- I’ll focus on personal stories that connect with midlife readers—especially around money, meaning, and reinvention.
- I won’t worry (yet) about sales, growth hacks, or even what comes after.
- I’ll build trust—with readers, but more importantly, with myself.
And when the Manager gets panicky, or the Firefighter gets jumpy, or the Exile feels exposed I’ll listen. I’ll slow down. And I’ll remind myself: they’re all part of me, but they’re not in charge anymore.