Clarifying the distinction between relatively normal dissociation and relatively abnormal dissociation is important for a number of reasons, including: 1) understanding what Dissociative Identity Disorder is becomes easier when you can clearly identify what it is not, 2) describing symptoms like dissociative amnesia to others is less of a challenge when you start from a place they can relate to, and 3) those of us with DID could do with regular reminders that we aren’t aberrant life forms and, in fact, a good portion of our dissociative experiences aren’t as far-fetched to other people as we may believe.

Nothing about dissociative identity disorder is quite what the most popular phrases used to describe it imply. “Losing time” is no exception. When we talk about losing time we’re talking about severe dissociative amnesia which, in a milder form, is something I believe everyone experiences. But the phrase “losing time” suggests a highly dramatic, easily recognizable aberration. In my experience, however, dissociative amnesia is startlingly surreptitious. It’s easy to be unaware that you’re losing time at all.

Decreasing dissociation in dissociative identity disorder (DID) relies on actively increasing awareness of the world around us. Dissociation is the process by which we separate ourselves from our experiences, memories, bodies, and very selves. When we're dissociating, we're disengaged from some or all of our own reality. It's not inherently a bad thing; I truly believe dissociation serves a valuable purpose, and not just in traumatic circumstances. But there's no doubt that the chronic, severe dissociation intrinsic to dissociative identity disorder is problematic, disruptive, even at times actively destructive. By increasing awareness, by being more fully present in our bodies and minds, we can mitigate the damaging effects of dissociation.

If you've ever seen a television crime show featuring a suspect with Dissociative Identity Disorder, you've seen a theatrical depiction of identity alteration, the fifth of the five main dissociative symptoms. A bewildered man suspected of murder is brought in for questioning. Eventually his manner, style of speech, and affect change dramatically and he says something like, "Sam didn't kill her. I did. I'm Joe." That switch in personality states is identity alteration at it's most extreme.

I used to make lists of things I liked and didn't like. If I wanted to marry and have children, that went on the list. If I enjoyed musical theater, that too went on the list. Inevitably a day would come when I couldn't imagine wanting to marry or liking musicals. I was perplexed as to why they were on the list in the first place. So I'd start a new one. I was trying hard to figure out who I was. As soon as I had a decent handle on the nature of my identity, it would slip through my fingers once again. I kept these lists in an effort to pin down my sense of self in a concrete and lasting way. What I didn't know is that I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. Identity confusion is a normal, if monumentally frustrating, part of DID.

We've covered depersonalization and derealization, two of the five core dissociative symptoms. As someone with dissociative identity disorder, both of those forms of dissociation affect me regularly. But the remaining three impact my life most profoundly. Dissociative amnesia, as I'll explain, is a deeply frustrating and disruptive part of living with DID.

I remember a certain meeting with a girlfriend in a coffee shop. I arrived before her and sat working on a crossword puzzle while I waited. It wasn't long before she was standing next to me saying, "Hi!" I looked at her, and even though I knew my purpose in the coffee shop that day - to meet her - it took me a moment to understand who she was. It was a jarring moment in her Dissociative Identity Disorder education. "You didn't recognize me," she said. She was right. I didn't immediately recognize her, even though by then we'd spent hundreds of hours together. But it wasn't amnesia, the form of dissociation one might suspect, that prevented me from recognizing her. It was a different dissociative symptom: derealization.

What's it like to live with depersonalization in dissociative identity disorder ? Articulating the answer is challenging for me. Partly because I don't know what it's like to live without DID; partly because describing it requires a base-line level of awareness that dissociation by nature impedes. And partly because the question is so large, sort of like asking what it's like to be female. Breaking dissociation down into the five primary ways it manifests makes illuminating the experience of living with dissociative identity disorder easier. Depersonalization - the feeling that you're separate from your body - is the first.