Articles and Blogs

The way we respond to trauma is not a matter of choice – it is a biologically preprogrammed set of responses which happen in a predictable sequence. Here we look at the five ‘F’ responses to trauma.

There are many ways to describe dissociation. This article takes a closer look at dissociation as it pertains to dissociative identity disorder and trauma.

Dissociative identity disorder is a creative survival mechanism for coping with overwhelming and chronic childhood trauma.

For dissociative identity disorder (DID) to develop, there is usually chronic trauma in early childhood along with significant problems in the child-parent relationship.

Diagnosis of dissociative disorders is by no means straightforward, mainly due to a lack of training and knowledge. This article explains how diagnosis is made.

There are a number of diagnostic tools available for assessing dissociative disorders. This article lists the principle ones along with descriptions, purpose and methods used.

Dissociative disorders appear as diagnostic categorisations in both the American-based DSM-5 produced by the American Psychological Association (APA, 2013), and the other ‘diagnostic’ bible used more widely in Europe, the World Health Organisation’s ICD-10.

DDNOS is seen by many people as a ‘not yet’ or ‘a not quite’ version of dissociative identity disorder and although it is supposed to be a ‘residual category’ and only given to a few people, in fact the vast majority of people diagnosed with a dissociative disorder fall into this category.

I have dissociative identity disorder. I have many separate, distinct and unique ‘parts’ of my personality. My ‘parts’ or ‘alters’ collectively add up to the total person that is me. I am the sum of all my parts. They are each a letter, and I am a sentence.

Physical symptoms are a big part of life for me with DID. Yes, I have ‘multiple personalities’, but I would say that physical symptoms such as chronic, unexplained pain, headaches and nausea have been and still remain far more distressing and life-impacting for me than the presence of parts.

Crisis makes sense. The adrenaline of it can become addictive, or be all we’ve known. Life doesn’t feel right if things aren’t frantic, if relationships aren’t disastrous. Crisis can be an attachment cry. Crisis is the language of emotions that we don’t know how to regulate.

For a long time, therapy sessions would end with a fairly typical exchange. I would express frustration at myself for not doing enough, and gently but firmly the response from my therapist would go, ‘Be kind to yourself.’

So I’m curious. On what do you base your belief in dissociative identity disorder? This was a tweet I received from a fellow twit based in the US a few months ago. The more I use social media, the more I realise how controversial dissociative identity disorder is ...

Who should pay for treatment for survivors of abuse who have gone on to develop a dissociative disorder? For many conditions the expectation would be that help would be available on the NHS, but this is rarely the case for conditions arising from trauma.

Powerlessness is such a core experience for victims of abuse that often we don’t even notice that it’s there. It is played out in the way that we interact with people and the world – it’s the shadow cast by the sun, rather than the sunlight itself.

I look up and I am in my therapist’s room. I look up and I am in the cafe area of the shopping mall. I look up and I am in bed in the dark. I look up and I don’t know if I am I. There is no thread of continuity between these places, these experiences. Who am I now, writing this, re-reading this, re-writing this?