The One Who Speaks in Deadlines

Elena thought structure kept her safe—but when she paused to listen, a long-buried part revealed what she truly feared: being invisible to herself.

---

It had started with the phrase she couldn’t shake.

“What if you still have time?”

Elena read it on a cream-colored box in a soft font, shared in passing on someone’s Facebook story. She didn’t click like. But she saved it.

The words landed in her—not like inspiration, but like a bruise she didn’t know she had.

---

Now it was Week Three of a course she’d signed up for quietly—Self-Led Life Design—a title she barely trusted herself to believe in. She hadn’t told anyone she was doing it. Not her husband, not her daughters. She kept the journal tucked beneath a stack of cookbooks in the kitchen.

She hadn’t signed up because she was bold. She’d signed up because she was exhausted—of pretending “fine” was enough, of filling her days with usefulness and calling it joy.

That morning, before the session, she had woken with her hands clenched in fists under the covers. She’d noticed it more often lately. Her breath shallow. Her jaw stiff. Her body holding something that her mind couldn’t name.

She pressed her palm to her sternum.

Just breathe, she told herself. You have time.

---

The Zoom call began with a grounding meditation.

The facilitator’s voice was soft, steady. She invited them to imagine winter trees, their branches bare but reaching, their roots unseen but strong.

Elena followed the rhythm of her breath. For the first time in days, her shoulders dropped.

A warmth spread across her back, not heat, exactly, but something closer to ease. Her vision statement lay open in front of her.

“I want to create beauty and belonging through art, hospitality, and mentoring women who feel forgotten or lost.”

When she first wrote it, it felt like someone else had whispered it to her. A future self, maybe. A much younger one.

---

The session’s invitation was simple:“Return to your vision parts map. Choose one part to be with today. Just one.”

She flipped to the drawing from last week. A wheel of circles, hastily drawn in pencil.

• The Enthusiast

• The Skeptic

• The Caretaker

• The One Who Forgot She Was Creative

• The Deadline Keeper

Her eyes lingered on that last one.

It was already stirring.

---

She closed her eyes again and placed her hand low on her belly. There was tightness there, like a coil. Her breath snagged just a little.

The part showed up immediately. No need to coax it.

Not visual. Not dramatic. Just present.

A sense of task. A pressure to do it right. A whisper: “If we don’t organize this soon, it’ll fall apart.”

It didn’t feel angry. It felt scared.

She imagined it like a woman in her 40s, smartly dressed, notebook in hand, pen clicking—shoulders tight, jaw set. She meant well. She just never rested.

Elena breathed.

“I see you,” she said quietly. “I know you’ve helped me hold it all together.”

A wave of emotion swept through her throat. Not grief. Not quite. Something quieter. Recognition.

She asked it gently, “What are you afraid will happen if I slow down?”

And it answered without hesitation: “You’ll fade. You’ll be irrelevant. You’ll be invisible again.”

---

Tears came.

She didn’t rush to stop them.

She simply nodded.

“Thank you for telling me.”

This part—The Deadline Keeper—had been managing her calendar, her meals, her volunteer shifts, and her identity. It had done its best to fill the silence.

But it was tired too.

---

After the session, Elena sat in silence.

She didn’t rewrite her vision. Not yet. But she added a line to her page:

“I will walk slowly enough to bring all of me with me—even the ones who worry I’ll disappear.”

She let the pen fall. Pressed her palm again to her chest.

The room was still.

But inside—something was moving. Gently. Willingly. Together.

---

What Happened in Elena’s System?

Elena’s session with The Deadline Keeper reflected the shift from awareness to relationship.

She didn’t just name her parts. She sat with one. She listened.

IFS Lens:

• The Deadline Keeper is a protector part—motivated by efficiency, driven by fear of irrelevance or invisibility.

• Its job is to manage her life so well that she never becomes forgotten again.

• Elena listened, not with judgment, but with curiosity. That’s the key: Self-energy creates healing by hearing, not fixing.

Polyvagal Lens:

• Elena began in sympathetic activation—tension, urgency, shallow breath.

• As she entered into the grounding meditation, her system softened into ventral vagal state—safe enough to connect inward.

• The moment of dialogue with her part allowed co-regulation within her own system, a felt sense of relief and inclusion.

This is the power of vertical coaching with a part.

Not forward movement for movement’s sake—but internal alignment so that what we build doesn’t leave anyone behind.

---

Reflection Prompt for You:

What part of you is working hard to keep everything on track?

• Can you feel where it lives in your body?

• Can you hear what it’s afraid might happen if you slowed down?

• What might it need in order to trust your vision?

Bring your full Self to the conversation. Not all transformation begins with action. Some begins with listening.

---

Join the All Parts Are Welcome Community Space
Step into a supportive, Self-led circle of healing and connection for just $60/year. Your membership includes:

• Four seasonal online retreats (solstice & equinox)—first one is June 20/21

• Special events and member-only offerings throughout the year

• Weekly Self-Led Recovery Open Meetings—starting Thursday, June 12 at 1:30pm ET

Weekly Meeting Time Zone Breakdown for June 12 Self-Led Recovery Open Group:

• 10:30am PT (Vancouver / LA)

• 11:30am MT (Denver / Calgary)

• 12:30pm CT (Chicago / Winnipeg)

• 1:30pm ET (Toronto / New York)

• 6:30pm UK (London)

• 7:30pm CET (Berlin / Paris)

Come as you are—all parts are welcome in this gentle, trauma-informed space.