A real-world example of how CBPT helps untangle inner conflict — and what becomes possible on the other side.
In my first article, I introduced cognitive behavioral parts therapy (CBPT) — an approach that builds on traditional CBT by recognizing that our thoughts, emotions, and impulses often come from different “parts” of ourselves, each with its own history and values. When these parts are in conflict, even the most well-designed cognitive interventions can stall.
That idea can feel abstract until you see it in action. So I want to share an example — a composite drawn from real clients, with identifying details changed or removed — that illustrates what this looks like in practice.
Meet “Sara”
Sara is a tech executive in her late 30s who came to therapy for perfectionism and burnout. She was working 12–14 hour days, with little time left for anything that supported her well-being.
Prior to coming to me, Sara had had traditional CBT, which had been somewhat helpful but ultimately dissatisfying. In CBT, Sara had identified the limiting belief: “If I don’t do things perfectly, my boss will lose respect for me.” Looking at the evidence — glowing performance reviews, consistent praise — she could see this thought was probably distorted. However, this cognitive insight was not enough to stop her from overworking.
This is a common pattern that I see in clients who come to me already having tried CBT. As I described in my first article, when insight doesn’t produce behavioral change, it’s rarely because someone isn’t trying hard enough. More often, they’re using the only strategies they’ve ever learned — frequently, emotional suppression and avoidance. Society teaches us that emotions are inconvenient at best, dangerous at worst, and should be controlled or avoided. Retraining the brain to be less fearful — and more tolerant — of uncomfortable feelings is arguably the most impactful thing an individual can do to support their mental health.
Four parts, one gridlock
As we explored Sara’s process further, four distinct parts emerged — each with its own perspective, history, and concerns:
- A perfectionist part that emerged in Sara’s childhood. Sara’s anxious and perfectionistic mother had very high standards, and Sara quickly learned that getting straight A’s was the only way to avoid criticism and earn love.
- A burnt-out part, overwhelmed by the amount of time and energy Sara poured into work. When investigated, Sara was able to feel this part as dread, exhaustion, and heaviness in her face.
- An inner critic, frustrated and blaming the perfectionist for the overwhelm. This part registered a memory of an ex-boyfriend telling her to stop complaining about her overwhelm and do something about it — that she was to blame for her suffering.
- A hopeless part, worn down by the inner critic’s harshness, and resigned to things never changing.
Mapped out, the pattern became clear: the perfectionist’s fear drove overwork, which led to the burnt-out part’s overwhelm, which triggered the inner critic’s self-blame, which left the hopeless part convinced that nothing would ever be different. Each part was reacting to another — and the cycle kept feeding itself.
Simply seeing this laid out brought Sara relief. Recognizing each reaction as valid — given its history and what it was trying to protect — let her meet her own experience with more curiosity, self-compassion, groundedness, and self-efficacy.
She realized she didn’t have to fight so hard to quiet the perfectionist — she could validate how this part had served her in childhood, express gratitude and compassion toward it, and allow the part’s thoughts and feelings to be there without letting them control her behavior. Indeed, fighting this part had just been leading to more mental noise, dysregulation, and stuckness.
Finding a way forward
To begin loosening this stuckness, we explored what each part actually needed in order to feel safe enough to try something different. This involved negotiation between parts.
The perfectionist part agreed to a one-week experiment: stopping work at 6:30 p.m. each evening. In return, the inner critic agreed to soften its tone and be less aggressive toward the perfectionist for one week.
We also set in place a concrete method of tracking job satisfaction. Sara’s burnt-out part was eager to see some change here. Additionally, Sara committed to a clear action: “If my responsibilities haven’t been reduced within six months, I’ll start looking for other roles.” Upon checking in with all parts, it became clear that the inner critic was skeptical that Sara would actually implement this plan. So Sara agreed to write herself a letter at futureme.org to be delivered to her in six months, reminding herself of this commitment and why it was important to her. Ultimately, the inner critic simply wanted Sara to have a healthy and balanced life.
Sara’s hopeless part, witnessing this plan, allowed itself a little more optimism.
What happened next
What were the results of the experiment? Stopping work at 6:30 p.m. didn’t lead to disaster. Sara continued to get positive feedback from her manager at work, and there was no evidence that this negatively impacted her performance. This data helped Sara’s perfectionist part relax, and the experiments continued — each one building on the results of the last.
Eventually, Sara’s perfectionist part relaxed enough to allow her to have an honest conversation about her workload with her boss. Her boss was supportive — he didn’t want to lose her, and was willing to renegotiate her responsibilities. With more breathing room, Sara reconnected with friends, took up pickleball, and rediscovered a playfulness she’d lost touch with.
Six months later, Sara reported feeling more balanced, more satisfied at work, and — for the first time in a long while — genuinely well.
Why this matters
Most of us are taught that the appropriate way to relate to emotions is to “deal with them” — to try to control them without first trying to understand and validate where they are coming from. That adversarial stance — fighting your own mind — creates more turmoil, not less. No therapy, however well-designed, can succeed as long as an individual views their own emotions as the enemy.
CBPT offers something different. It still makes room for examining how realistic or evidence-based a thought is — often through the same kind of behavioral experiments used in traditional CBT. But it takes special care to help clients view the positive intention behind parts that experience challenging feelings. Real change becomes possible once all of a person’s parts feel safe enough to stop fighting and start cooperating.
If Sara’s story feels familiar, I’d love to connect. You can schedule a free 30-minute consultation through my website.