The Gentle Rebel Podcast No Missing Parts (with Justin Sunseri)
I’ve noticed Internal Family Systems (IFS) being mentioned a lot lately, following a significant shift in how it’s now presented as a spiritual philosophy for trauma healing.
In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I got Justin Sunseri back on the podcast, partly to talk about this recent addition to IFS. The last time he was on, he predicted further elements would be added before long. I also wanted to speak with him about ways we can approach these kinds of models without becoming overly dependent on them.
We talked about simplicity, stripping away the fluff, and getting to the core of things so we can let go rather than get pulled into the culture around particular therapeutic models, which now often include communities, language, rituals, and insider/outside status. These are things therapeutic practitioners need to stay aware of and avoid enabling.
I wanted to address the structural elements here (which apply to many systematic modalities), rather than the content of IFS itself. I know people find it useful. That’s not what this is about. It’s a call for awareness in how we hold and attach to systems. As Justin points out, a red flag is when new elements are added by decree from a single figure at the centre, often accompanied by books, train-the-trainer programs, and courses that extract profits from a highly invested audience of practitioners and followers.
Development By Decree vs Organic Progress
Justin contrasts a modality that evolves through scrutiny and refinement with one that changes by proclamation from its founder. In models like IFS, additions often arrive as top-down declarations rather than emerging iteratively and organically.
When a system operates under capitalist logic, it must continually invent new things, reinvent existing ones, and proclaim the discovery of the missing piece. There have also been questions regarding the use of beliefs from established spiritual traditions, which reinforce doubts about the parameters of a therapeutic model and whether it needs to become a totalitarian system to be considered valuable. They can excel in their own sphere and allow people to connect the dots with other sources that resonate with them personally or within their cultures.
Justin suggests this recent shift in IFS makes sense, as the model already frames people as having multiple parts or souls. Since it isn’t grounded in scientific methodology (the claim that people have “parts” is unfalsifiable), it can’t be presented as a psychological philosophy and instead becomes a spiritual one.
How Can We Get as Simple and Clear as Possible?
Justin takes us through his process, which begins with the goal of self-regulation.
“What do we know about how to do that?”
“Pendulation is a big part of it.”
“OK, how do I do that?”
“You have to feel what’s happening inside you.”
“OK, well, how do I do that?”
“You’ve got to feel your defensive activation and your body’s safety activation.”
“Awesome, Justin… how do I do that?”
His approach is to build skills through small, incremental steps. This moves toward simplicity rather than complexity.
When a model relies on jargon and insider knowledge, it creates layers of investment that make access desirable and profitable. You want to be “in the know”. And it opens new markets because, however much one learns, there is always more to know. A belief system can never be total enough. There is always a potential missing part to capitalise on.
Useful But Not Necessary
It’s helpful to distinguish what personally resonates from what is necessary. A model becomes religious in structure when it presents itself as a universal solution.
This contrasts with the healthier goal of someone in a helping role, which is to become ultimately irrelevant. That stands against market logic, which demands perpetual growth rather than reaching the edge of usefulness and giving people ways to jettison the solid rocket boosters.
Iterative Steps To Avoid Triggering Overwhelm
Justin talked about his interest in Wabi Sabi (a tricky-to-define concept from Japan that emphasises imperfection, impermanence, incompleteness, and rootedness in the present moment) and Kaizen (continuous improvement through small, incremental changes).
These ideas shape his therapeutic philosophy, which helps clients identify tiny, manageable steps that gradually move them toward their goals. For example, someone wanting to go to bed earlier may envision 10pm as their ideal, but shifting from midnight in one go is unlikely. A ten-minute adjustment each week over twelve weeks is far more sustainable and far less stressful.
This reflects his whole approach to self-regulation. It unfolds through iterative micro-steps.
Listening For The Pull
When we’re seeking help, we sometimes try to adopt multiple modalities at once, which can leave us more desperate and dysregulated. I might hear Justin talk about stoicism, Wabi Sabi, and Kaizen and attempt to apply them all as solutions. But he is describing influences he has been gradually drawn toward over a long period and has integrated in his own way.
Finding a unique creative path requires a patient, long-term perspective, but this only becomes possible when the nervous system feels safe. For Justin, safety is cultivated through daily small actions and gradual changes rather than a bold intervention.
He encourages each of us to listen for what we feel pulled toward, but only from a place of regulation, little by little, not all at once.
How do you know it’s a healthy pull?
It has a clean quality, a movement toward something that feels exciting or right. It can be soft or intense. Behaviours that leave us feeling guilt, shame, or regret are not pulls in this sense. Over time, we can identify the difference by remembering how we typically feel afterwards.
We can listen most clearly when we’re regulated because the body gravitates toward what helps it regulate. There is an intuitive knowing that arises when we feel safe and connected. For example, the intentions and desires that surface ahead of the new year. We often feel a pull during holidays because we are calmer and moving at a slower pace. It’s similar on vacation.
But turning that pull into lasting change requires micro-steps rather than grand gestures. In this sense, January isn’t the moment to transform everything, but the bridge toward the changes we want to make.
