Monthly Spotlight - July

Understanding Dissociation Through a Psychodynamic Lens

Part 2

Understanding Dissociation Through a Psychodynamic Lens: Part 2

In my previous spotlight on dissociation, I explored how dissociation can be understood as a protective response and how therapy can help people gradually reconnect with themselves. I wrote about dissociation from a pluralistic perspective, emphasising that there is no single explanation that fits everyone and that healing often begins through curiosity, collaboration, and safety.

In this follow-up article, I want to explore some of the psychodynamic, attachment-based, and relational ideas that have shaped my understanding of dissociation over the years. Whilst theory can never fully capture the complexity of a person’s lived experience, I have often found that psychodynamic thinking offers a helpful way of understanding why dissociation develops and why it can sometimes persist long after the original danger has passed.

When people hear the term dissociation, they often imagine dramatic examples involving memory loss or severe trauma. Whilst these experiences certainly exist, dissociation is often much quieter than that. In my consulting room, I am more likely to encounter someone who suddenly loses their train of thought, apologises for “going blank”, struggles to connect with their emotions, or describes feeling disconnected from themselves, their body, or the people around them.

What interests me is not simply that dissociation occurs, but what it might be protecting the individual from having to experience.

From a psychodynamic perspective, dissociation can be understood as a defence against emotional experiences that feel overwhelming, intolerable, or impossible to think about. Whilst repression has traditionally been understood as pushing unwanted thoughts or impulses out of awareness, dissociation involves a more profound disruption in the integration of experience itself. Feelings, memories, bodily sensations, perceptions, and even aspects of identity can become separated from conscious awareness.

Importantly, this is rarely a conscious decision. Dissociation is not something people choose to do. Rather, it is something the mind learns to do when remaining fully present feels too frightening, painful, or overwhelming.

Over the years, I have become increasingly cautious about viewing dissociation purely through the lens of pathology. Whilst it can undoubtedly create difficulties in adult life, I often find myself reflecting on how ingenious the process really is. Many clients developed dissociative ways of coping at a time when there were few alternatives available. A child who cannot physically escape an overwhelming environment may learn to psychologically distance themselves from it. A child whose feelings are repeatedly ignored, minimised, or punished may gradually learn to disconnect from those feelings altogether.

What can appear problematic in adulthood may once have been an essential means of survival.

One of the things I have noticed over the years is how often clients judge themselves harshly for dissociating. They describe it as weakness, avoidance, or evidence that something is wrong with them. Yet when we begin to explore the circumstances in which these responses first developed, a different picture often emerges. What initially appeared to be dysfunction frequently begins to look more like adaptation.

The question shifts from “What’s wrong with me?” to “What happened that made this response necessary?” This shift can be profoundly important. Shame often keeps people stuck in cycles of self-criticism, making it harder to understand the purpose dissociation may have served. When dissociation is viewed through a more compassionate lens, it becomes possible to recognise it not as a failure, but as a response that developed in the service of survival.

Attachment theory has significantly influenced my understanding of dissociation. John Bowlby proposed that human beings are biologically organised to seek safety and security through attachment relationships. When caregivers are consistently attuned and emotionally available, children gradually develop the capacity to regulate emotions, reflect upon their experiences, and maintain a stable sense of self. However, when caregiving relationships are frightening, inconsistent, neglectful, intrusive, or emotionally unavailable, the child’s ability to integrate emotional experiences can become compromised.

In these circumstances, dissociation may emerge as a way of managing emotional states that feel too overwhelming to bear. The child may disconnect from aspects of their own experience in order to preserve relationships upon which they remain dependent. Whilst the original circumstances may have passed, the strategy often remains active long into adulthood.

Donald Winnicott’s work also offers valuable insight. His concept of the false self describes how individuals may adapt to their environments by suppressing aspects of their authentic experience in order to maintain connection with others. Whilst dissociation and the false self are not identical concepts, there can be significant overlap. Many clients describe feeling disconnected from who they really are, uncertain about their needs, or unable to access their emotional lives. It can sometimes feel as though important parts of the self have been hidden away in order to survive.

Contemporary psychodynamic thinking has continued to develop these ideas. Philip Bromberg argued that psychological health is not necessarily about possessing a single, unified self, but rather about developing the capacity to move between different self-states without becoming overwhelmed by them. He famously described this as the ability to “stand in the spaces” between different aspects of ourselves.

This idea resonates strongly with my clinical experience. Many people arrive in therapy feeling fragmented. One part of them may appear highly competent, successful, and self-sufficient, whilst another feels frightened, ashamed, lonely, or emotionally frozen. One part may long for intimacy, whilst another fears it. The aim is not to eliminate these different parts, but to help them become more connected to one another so that the individual can experience themselves as a more coherent whole.

Relational Psychoanalytic Thinking

Relational psychoanalytic thinking has further enriched our understanding of dissociation by shifting attention from what occurs solely within the individual to what happens between people. Whilst classical psychoanalysis often focused on intrapsychic conflict and the workings of the internal world, relational theorists such as Stephen Mitchell, Lewis Aron, and Jessica Benjamin emphasised that our sense of self develops through relationships and continues to be shaped by them throughout life.

From this perspective, dissociation may emerge when certain thoughts, feelings, needs, or vulnerabilities are experienced as unacceptable within important relationships. Parts of the self may become hidden, disowned, or split off in order to preserve attachment, avoid rejection, manage shame, or maintain emotional safety. The individual unconsciously learns that some aspects of their experience cannot be safely expressed and therefore become disconnected from conscious awareness.

This understanding feels particularly relevant in therapeutic work. I rarely experience dissociation as something that exists solely inside a client. More often, it reveals itself within the relationship. A client may suddenly become emotionally distant when discussing something significant. They may lose their train of thought just as an important feeling begins to emerge. They may drift away from the very experience that most needs attention.

At times, these moments can be remarkably subtle. A client may begin speaking in a more intellectual way, move away from emotional language, change the subject, or forget what they were saying altogether. These shifts are rarely deliberate. More often, they reflect the mind’s attempt to move away from experiences that still feel too overwhelming to hold. Approaching such moments with curiosity rather than immediate interpretation often creates the safety needed for deeper exploration.

At times, I may notice corresponding feelings within myself: confusion, disconnection, helplessness, uncertainty, or difficulty thinking clearly. Psychodynamic concepts such as transference and countertransference encourage us to remain curious about these experiences. Rather than dismissing them, they may provide valuable information about the client’s internal world and the ways in which they have learned to manage emotional experience.

Relational psychoanalysis therefore views healing not simply as gaining insight into unconscious processes, but as experiencing a different kind of relationship in which previously dissociated aspects of experience can be safely recognised, understood, and integrated. The therapeutic relationship becomes a living, collaborative space in which new ways of experiencing oneself and others can gradually emerge.

This is one of the reasons I find relational approaches so valuable. They remind us that healing rarely occurs through insight alone. Most people were wounded in relationship, and many discover that recovery also happens in relationship. Over time, a consistent therapeutic relationship can offer experiences that were previously unavailable: being understood without being judged, being emotionally present without becoming overwhelmed, and remaining connected whilst expressing difficult thoughts and feelings.

This perspective aligns closely with my own pluralistic approach. The last thing someone who has spent much of their life feeling unseen, misunderstood, or powerless needs is a therapist who assumes they already know the answer. Healing grows through shared curiosity, collaboration, and a willingness to explore experience together.

Alongside psychodynamic and relational thinking, my understanding of dissociation has also been informed by developments in trauma theory and neuroscience. Researchers such as Bessel van der Kolk have highlighted how traumatic experiences are often stored differently from ordinary memories. Rather than existing as coherent narratives, traumatic experiences may remain encoded through bodily sensations, emotional states, physiological reactions, and fragmented images.

This helps explain why some people struggle to put words to their experiences whilst simultaneously feeling overwhelmed by emotional or bodily responses. Understanding dissociation through both psychodynamic and neurobiological perspectives allows for a richer formulation. It reminds us that dissociation is not only psychological; it is also embodied.

Within a pluralistic framework, I remain mindful that no single theory can fully explain an individual’s experience. Some people find psychodynamic ideas useful. Others connect more readily with attachment theory, trauma-informed approaches, neuroscience, mindfulness, or parts-based models of understanding. Rather than assuming one explanation fits all, I believe therapy works best when therapist and client work together to discover what feels meaningful and helpful for that individual.

At the same time, insight alone is rarely enough. Many people experiencing dissociation benefit from developing grounding skills, emotional regulation, and a greater capacity to remain present when distressing feelings arise. Drawing upon trauma-informed practice, mindfulness, psychoeducation, and attention to bodily experience can help create the conditions necessary for deeper psychological work; the necessary and sufficient conditions 🙂 

Perhaps one of the most significant shifts I witness in therapy is when clients stop fighting against dissociation and begin becoming curious about it. Rather than viewing it as an enemy to be defeated, they start recognising it as a response that once served an important purpose. Whilst the goal is not to remain dissociated, understanding its protective function often reduces the shame that surrounds it. From there, new possibilities begin to emerge.

Ultimately, I understand dissociation as a meaningful adaptation rather than simply a symptom. It often represents an intelligent response to experiences that once felt impossible to bear. Whilst it may no longer serve the individual in the ways it once did, it deserves curiosity and respect rather than judgement.

How Therapy Can Help

Many people experiencing dissociation worry that there is something fundamentally wrong with them. They may feel confused by memory gaps, emotional numbness, feelings of unreality, or a sense of disconnection from themselves and others. Often, they have spent years trying to understand why they react in ways that seem beyond their control.

Therapy offers a space in which these experiences can be explored safely and without judgement. Rather than focusing solely on managing symptoms, therapy can help uncover the emotional, relational, and developmental experiences that may have contributed to dissociation developing in the first place. Through a consistent and trusting therapeutic relationship, it becomes possible to understand dissociation not as evidence of weakness, but as a meaningful response to circumstances that once felt overwhelming.

My approach is pluralistic and integrative, grounded in psychodynamic thinking and informed by attachment theory, relational psychoanalysis, trauma research, and contemporary understandings of the mind-body connection. Together, we can explore your experiences at a pace that feels manageable, developing greater understanding, emotional resilience, and self-awareness along the way.

Whilst dissociation can sometimes leave people feeling fragmented or disconnected, therapy can support the gradual integration of experiences that have previously felt too difficult to hold. Healing from dissociation rarely arrives in dramatic moments. More often, it appears quietly: staying present during a difficult conversation, noticing an emotion without becoming overwhelmed by it, recognising the urge to withdraw and finding a way to remain connected. These shifts may seem small, yet they often represent profound movement towards integration.

Over time, many people find themselves developing a stronger sense of self, deeper emotional connection, and a greater capacity to engage with life in ways that feel authentic, meaningful, and fulfilling.

The aim is not to become a different person. The aim is to feel more fully connected to the person you already are.