It’s Just One Meal—Here’s What Your Parts Are Really Responding To
- Alexa Walker, LMSW

- Nov 26, 2025
- 2 min read

The holidays have a way of activating different parts of us—especially around food, routine, and expectations. You might notice a part that starts to obsess over the holiday meal, fixating on what you “should” or “shouldn’t” eat, or worrying, “This one meal is going to throw everything off.” That part isn’t wrong or bad. It’s trying to help in the only way it knows how.
And in IFS, we don’t try to silence or shame that part. We get curious about it. What does this anxious, controlling, or hyper-vigilant part hope to protect you from?
Often, it’s shielding something more tender beneath the surface—the part that fears not measuring up, the part that worries about losing control, the part that quietly wonders if you’re “good enough.” These protective parts work hard, especially this time of year.
When the “off track” part speaks up, you might experiment with pausing internally and offering it a little acknowledgment:“I see you. I know you’re trying to take care of me.”Sometimes that simple recognition softens everything.
And once that part feels seen, you can offer it a gentle perspective shift: One meal—even a big, celebratory holiday meal—is still just one meal. If you eat three meals a day, that’s 21 meals in a week, 84 in a month, and hundreds over the year. In the larger picture, this single moment doesn’t define your routine, your discipline, your progress, your health, or your worth.
But here’s the key: for these protective parts, it’s never really about the numbers. It’s about safety. It’s about control. It’s about trying to keep you from feeling overwhelmed or not enough.
So if multiple parts show up this holiday—one anxious, one judging, one trying to manage everything—see if you can meet them with curiosity instead of conflict.They’re all trying to help you feel okay. They’re all trying to keep you safe in the ways they learned long ago.
And from an IFS lens, that inner compassion—the willingness to tend to your parts instead of fighting them—is the real work.


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