Internal Family Systems (IFS) and the Power of Music: Part 3 - When the Nervous System Finally Feels Safe
- Christopher Schulte, MAEd, LCMHCA

- 3 days ago
- 4 min read
**Before discussing this topic in a blog, it is important to include a careful disclaimer. While there is growing scientific interest in psychedelics and their effects on mental health and emotional processing, this should NOT be interpreted as an endorsement of using illicit substances. Most promising research has occurred in tightly controlled clinical settings with medical screening, psychotherapy support, standardized dosing, and ongoing monitoring. Psychedelics also carry meaningful risks including psychological distress, adverse reactions, and legal consequences, and are not appropriate for everyone. Anyone considering these treatments should consult qualified medical professionals and only pursue them where they are legally available and clinically indicated.
One question I have continued to ask myself is this: Why do certain experiences seem to quiet our protective parts so effectively?
For me, live music occasionally created that feeling. For someone else, it might happen while hiking, holding a newborn, laughing with close friends, making art, sitting in silence, or feeling deeply understood in therapy.
Increasingly, neuroscience and psychotherapy research suggest that healing often occurs not because we “figure ourselves out,” but because our nervous system briefly experiences enough safety to stop bracing for danger.

In IFS language, protectors soften.
When they soften, we often gain greater access to what Dr. Richard Schwartz calls Self: the calm, curious, compassionate presence capable of relating to our inner world without fear or judgment.
This helps explain why people sometimes describe moments of profound clarity or connection during ordinary life experiences. The external event may matter less than the internal shift it allows: a temporary suspension of defensive strategies that makes room for openness, vulnerability, and genuine connection.
Researchers have also become interested in whether certain therapeutic interventions can facilitate these states. One area receiving considerable scientific attention is psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy.
Importantly, this research does NOT suggest that taking illicit substances is a shortcut to healing. The studies being conducted involve carefully selected participants, controlled dosing, medical oversight, extensive preparation, and structured psychotherapy before, during, and after treatment. These conditions differ dramatically from unsupervised or recreational use.
Some researchers hypothesize that psychedelic-assisted therapy may temporarily reduce rigid patterns of self-protection and increase feelings of openness, connectedness, or emotional safety, allowing individuals to approach painful memories or vulnerable emotions that previously felt inaccessible. In some studies, participants describe experiencing less defensiveness, greater self-compassion, and a renewed sense of connection to themselves and others.

Interestingly, these descriptions sound remarkably familiar from an IFS perspective.
It is as though highly vigilant protectors briefly loosen their grip, creating space for curiosity instead of fear. Rather than being overwhelmed by painful experiences, individuals may find themselves able to observe them with greater compassion and less reactivity.
Yet it is essential to remember that the experience itself is not the healing.
Whether the doorway is opened through therapy, music, meditation, meaningful relationships, spiritual practice, or an emerging medical treatment, lasting change comes from what happens afterward: building trust, integrating insight, strengthening relationships, and repeatedly returning to moments where the nervous system learns that it no longer has to survive in the same old ways.
For most people, those opportunities exist in everyday life.
A partner who stays present during conflict.
A therapist who listens without judgment.
A friend who accepts the vulnerable truth.
A quiet walk where the body exhales.
A song that somehow reaches the parts words cannot.
These moments may seem ordinary, but they can gently teach our internal system something profoundly important:
“Maybe I do not have to protect myself quite so fiercely anymore.”
And perhaps that is one of the deepest goals of healing: not eliminating our protective parts, but helping them discover that safety, connection, and compassion are possible now.

It is worth noting that some of the current scientific interest in psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy did not emerge in a vacuum. Researchers became curious in part because, for decades, individuals who used substances such as LSD, psilocybin, and MDMA—often in recreational, spiritual, or informal settings—consistently reported experiences of increased connection, reduced fear, heightened emotional openness, and profound shifts in perspective. These reports helped generate questions that researchers later began investigating under controlled clinical conditions.
I should also acknowledge my own history here. Many years ago, long before I became a therapist, I experimented with LSD, psilocybin, and MDMA while attending live music events and spending time with friends. Looking back, some of those experiences contributed to the feelings of connection, openness, and emotional safety that I have described throughout this series. At times, it felt as though the usual defenses and self-protective patterns I carried had softened, allowing me to experience myself, others, and the world differently.
At the same time, I want to be very clear: I am not recommending illicit substance use. Recreational use carries significant risks, including legal consequences, psychological distress, unsafe environments, contaminated substances, and experiences that can be overwhelming rather than healing. The clinical research being conducted today differs substantially from recreational use because it involves careful screening, preparation, supervision, and integration by trained professionals.
For me, the value of reflecting on those experiences is not that they provide a blueprint for healing. Rather, they helped me recognize an important question that continues to shape both my personal growth and clinical work: What happens when the nervous system experiences enough safety that it can briefly stop protecting and start connecting?
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If this resonates with you, therapy can be a space to better understand your protective parts with curiosity and compassion rather than judgment. All providers at Honeybee are currently building skills in IFS, and if you want to specifically work with Chris, let us know when you complete the form on our Contact Us page.




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