Three Kids in a Trench Coat

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Trusting other people isn’t something that comes naturally to us. Well, to me, anyway.

Some of us are very easily trusting, I think – others less so. Because of our early life experiences, we remained many ducks in one nest, so our brain made a team.

Some of us wanted to be close to other people and would go towards them, connect and find joy with others – and still do today, like little Harley. Some of us learned to fear the people we depended on early, so we got strong, independent, learned to be defensive and to question people’s intentions, or at least how much we could rely on anyone else being there when it mattered. Jesse takes charge in a lot of those situations.

Life felt unsafe when we were younger, whether it was or not – and dissociation is how we adapted to cope. The problem with times when there’s a lot of dissociation going on today, is that we’re not always super co-ordinated about how to keep ourselves emotionally safe in the here & now.

In the here and now today, we’re in an adult body, with lots of social skills, and people who love us. We have a doctorate, a great career record in academia, the NHS, private sector, and now our own business – all this stuff that shows that we’re anything but helpless. We’re not dependent on any one person, and we’re capable of having close, loving relationships with friends and others that last decades.

But – when things rock the boat, some of those old vulnerabilities can get triggered. Some of the young ‘uns inside, in particular, can start to come out and act from a place of trying to meet needs that weren’t met a long, long time ago – in ways which left scars.

Sometimes things go sideways in close connections and things can get overwhelming if we’re already stressed. Sometimes we screw up bad, sometimes we don’t know how to express ourselves or how to manage our emotional safety effectively.

Sometimes we’re just in a connection that is not healthy for us, and we have to grieve relationships we didn’t want to end. Either way, it’s interpersonal connection that’s at the heart of the stuff that hits us hardest, the good and the bad. I think it’s probably the same for most people.

When those things happen, those old wounds can show up in what we do in the here & now. Swapping drivers. A new duck. That can often be accompanied by dissociation, losing time, amnesia, generally being disconnected from what’s going on.

Part of how we heal is by letting those parts come out and express themselves. Often in non-verbal ways – it can look like really big feelings that we just don’t know how to describe but just need to let come to the surface. Or… well, I don’t know what happens when I’m “not here”. But just being with another person, being held in their caring attention, being witnessed – these can all be hugely healing.

Choosing to let that happen though – to share with another person, when you know you’ve got a lot of big feelings that you’re trying to hold back in your daily life… it can feel like a big leap. When you’re really dysregulated & dissociating a lot, and know there’s a good chance that parts are going to come forward ‘without you’… Willingly ‘letting yourself be seen’ by another human being when life is hard – that requires a huge amount of trust in that person from the rest of us.

We don’t want to see the little ones get hurt again, rejected again, let down again. We don’t want Riley to suffer, and we feel like we’re doing our jobs badly when that happens.

That’s where a good therapist who understands trauma & dissociation is so invaluable. I sometimes think of ours as some kind of wizard. There are certain techniques, skills you can be taught, for working with trance states when you’re deeply dissociated – that can certainly feel that way. But those are like cheap parlour tricks compared to being able to openly and honestly share your thoughts and feelings with another person. I’m really glad that I found someone who I feel that way about – and in turn, I’m learning to trust & share with other people in my life, too.

It didn’t magically start out like that – it took a long time & a lot of work, on both our parts, to get there.

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Therapy as a safe harbour for exploration

Now, though, we’re able to have frank conversations about things like dissociation in therapy. To give an example from this week – to be able to say, “I don’t remember much of what we’ve talked about in most of the 7 or 8 times we’ve met this year” and “Yeah, sometimes I wake up in the middle of a session & wonder how I got there, while trying to hide that that’s happened…” I know that it’s ok to share that stuff, because I’m talking to someone who, without missing a beat, responds, “That’s ok – sometimes we just need to make space for parts to be present & be witnessed”, and that, “just because a conversation was with a part, doesn’t mean that we weren’t also connecting in those moments – even if you don’t remember it.”

He’s right about that – and the whole thing kinda blows my mind still sometimes. But a little wonder is a good thing, as long as we don’t get too side-tracked by staring at it all the time.

Time & again he’s held me through big, big emotions, been patient and kind, set clear boundaries & been firm but understanding when some of us (*whistles* – J) have been testing them. He’s someone I can depend on, and importantly – he’s shown he knows what he’s doing through words and actions.

For a long time early on, I was grappling for the first time with all these questions like, “WTF is dissociation; I don’t get amnesia… do I?; Is it DID?; WTF is a system?; How do I know if I’m a part or a person…?.” (I say first time, because yes – I forget the answers & experiences of finding out, sometimes).

I would question his knowledge, or skill, suggest I needed to go find a psychiatrist elsewhere. He ran rings around me every time (I say “ran rings” – it wasn’t a contest, but it felt like a fight to some parts).

Trust was slowly built, every time he showed me patience when I’d come back to the same questions, the times he was calm when I was panicked – and times I shared things I’d never shared with another person, and was met with kindness, compassion, empathy.

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Dissociating? We can still show up

I want to share a story from about 6 months in, when my therapist had convinced my analytic, cautious, psychologist-oriented, and boundary-testing parts that, yeah, this guy knew the theory, had a lot of skills & experience, and we didn’t need to keep questioning him. It was time to start really taking some leaps with getting present, being honest, and trusting that he wasn’t going to let me fall.

I’d met about 5 of us by then, but still didn’t feel like I really knew anything about this stuff, not really – I was still wrestling in a very intense way with the feeling that I was making everything up – the symptoms of complex trauma, the dissociation, having parts, all of it. While also frequently feeling almost disabled by all those things showing up in my daily life.

I was in a bad place. I was frequently getting overwhelmed from some really difficult shit in my daily life, which led to a lot of re-experiencing past trauma. I was a bit of a mess.

Something particularly bad had happened, I don’t remember what. We had a therapy session booked that evening. I wanted to cancel, but pushed myself to show up; “the times we’re struggling the most, are when we need other people the most”. That sentiment felt very, “… but that’s not for me” at the time – but I trusted my instinct that trying, at least, was the right thing to do – whether I felt like it or not.

We got to the end of the session, late in the evening, and I was in pieces – feeling like the fire inside was close to going out. He’d stayed with me, with my pain, through so much over the last hour – and he checked in with me as much as he could, made sure I had emergency hotline numbers and such, “What’s important right now is safety.”

I didn’t remember anything about the session, just signing off, wiping away the tears and collapsing into bed, exhausted & dejected. Done. Didn’t care if I saw another sunrise or not. I couldn’t take this anymore. I was done.

Then the strangest things started to happened. My (then) youngest, most hopeful and tender part came wandering out & wanted to play… seeking comfort & togetherness. Bringing joy in the face of all this hopelessness. We snuggled under blankies together, hugged our plushies, found some silly TV to watch. Even had a little sing & dance after a while. Over the next few hours, I remembered that that world was an alright place to be, actually.

Then at some point over the next couple of weeks, I started to get odd memories of moments during therapy coming back – particularly facial expressions I’d never seen my therapist make. Almost like… these playfully eye movements and a few silently mouthed words, like, “Go on! It’s ok!”

I wondered if I was just daydreaming – but they sure felt like memories – just not my memories. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it, I felt so disoriented – but I was more stable, more curious, more present overall – I’d give it time, see if it made sense with a day or two. It remained mysterious, but not scary – I just wanted to know what was going on.

There was enough trust by now that I knew I was talking to someone I could share my experiences with honestly, that I mentioned it during the next session. I didn’t know what to ask other than, “Any idea what’s up with that?”

“Oh…” he said…

“… that’s interesting. You remember that?”

Huh?

“Yeah, I guess, if you’re telling me it happened…”

“Ok, I mean – that was just me helping to organise your system while you had your plate full. Facial expressions are often a really good way of getting the attention of young parts. I was talking to Harley & telling them to come find you after the session, because it seemed like you were really going to need each other to get through things…”

What?

“Harley was there? And you talked to them? Organizing my system?!“

“It’s just a fancy ‘structural dissociation’ way of saying, ‘helping you prepare for some rest & recovery’ – but yes, that’s what that was about.”

Part of me wanted to say, “How very dare you?!”

What I actually said was along the lines of:

“This is all a lot to process – I hadn’t seen Harley in weeks, and then I find out they were talking to you during session without me knowing – and then they showed up, came out, after – just when I needed them, and they needed me.

They trusted you enough to do that.

And you knew what I needed better than I did, in that moment.

What I mean is… it feels like you may have saved my life that night…

Thank you so much“

He just smiled a big smile and said, “You’re very welcome”. We talked a little more, and got on with the session, just like that.

It showed me that there are good people in the world who care, who understand, and who can help us with the stuff that can seem so mysterious without a little guidance & encouragement.

When we start trusting that those people are out there, and show up when we find them…

That’s where so much healing, from what was missing in the past, can happen.

Until next time, take care of yourselves, kiddos

Riley & fam ❤