Dissociation, and the Healing Power of Metaphor

Many people who have experienced trauma describe feeling detached, foggy, or as though they’re watching life from a distance. These are forms of dissociation—the nervous system’s way of protecting us when staying present feels too painful. Dissociation can look like going blank in conversation, losing track of time, feeling outside your body, or watching the world through a haze. In children, it might appear as daydreaming, withdrawal, or sudden silence. None of this is weakness or attention-seeking. Dissociation is a survival strategy: the body and brain stepping in to shield us when things feel too much.

Because trauma often speaks in fragments and sensations rather than in tidy words, metaphor can offer a way to express what otherwise feels inexpressible. Images and symbols give distance and safety, while still allowing truth to be shared. Saying “It’s like I’m locked in a tower” can capture an experience that feels overwhelming to explain in plain language. Metaphor becomes a bridge for connection and understanding.

One of the most powerful metaphors for dissociation comes from the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty. In the story, a sudden prick of the spindle changes everything. She doesn’t fight or scream—she falls into a deep, protective sleep. Around her, the castle becomes still and a forest of thorns rises up, shielding her from intrusion. She is not broken. She is not gone. She is waiting. In this story, her sleep mirrors dissociation, the thorns represent coping strategies, and the stillness is survival. The return doesn’t happen through urgency or force, but through the meeting of readiness and safety. When the land is ready, and connection can be offered, she stirs again.

For many people, healing from dissociation unfolds in just this way. It is not about a sudden awakening, but about gradual change: a softening of the freeze, a little more ease in breathing, moments of presence that grow longer with time. What once felt unreachable begins to feel safer, not because it is forced, but because the surrounding conditions—safety, steadiness, supportive connection—make it possible.

The story of Sleeping Beauty carries lessons that hold true in trauma healing: dissociation is protection, not failure; we cannot push ourselves—or others—to “wake up” before the system is ready; and recovery happens in relationship, often with someone alongside us who can witness and stay. What looks like stillness from the outside may in fact be the body’s best attempt to survive.

Recovery isn’t about conquering trauma. It’s about honouring the wisdom of those protective parts, listening to what went quiet, and trusting that life still waits—even after a long silence.

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Further Reading and Inspiration:

• Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés (1992) — a powerful exploration of women’s inner lives, fairytales, and the healing power of story.

• The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk (2014) — an accessible look at how trauma lives in the body and ways healing can unfold.

• Trauma and Recovery by Judith Herman (1992) — a foundational text exploring trauma’s impact and the pathways toward reconnection.