Max Littman, LCSW
February 27, 2026
There is a subtle assumption in our therapist culture that we should remain fully present, fully regulated, and fully attuned at all times. Within therapist subcultures, especially somatic and trauma informed therapies, we are trained to notice when presence shifts in our clients. We are taught to track nonverbal changes in their nervous systems. We are instructed to monitor cues of overwhelm, shutdown, or flight. We are encouraged to help clients move safely, with care and discernment, toward more embodiment, connection, and aliveness. In theory, and in many clinicians’ experience, including my own, greater embodiment and connection tend to support healing and improved outcomes. Dissociation, in this context, is often viewed either as a barrier to embodiment or as something to approach with curiosity and respect so we can understand the wounds that may be driving it.
What is discussed far less often is the reality that we as therapists also move along a spectrum of dissociation during sessions. For many clinicians, this can carry a quiet layer of shame, something sensed but rarely spoken. Even less explored is the possibility that therapist dissociation can function as a capacity rather than a problem, and that, when approached intentionally and relationally, it can become of assistance to us, the therapy, and the client.
Dissociation Is Not a Therapist Flaw. It Is a Capacity.
Dissociation is a built-in regulatory function of our nervous system. It is not inherently pathological. It becomes problematic only when it is rigid, chronic, or cuts us off from life in ways that limit connection or choice. In its everyday forms, dissociation is common, adaptive, and often subtle.
We as therapists experience it during sessions too. Sometimes it looks like:
- mental fog
- losing a word mid sentence
- feeling slightly outside our body while listening
- drifting focus
- feeling suddenly sleepy
- going blank
- fuzziness
- eyes moving into soft focus unintentionally
None of these automatically mean we are failing in our role as therapists or coming up short with our clients. They signal that a protective part of our system has stepped in to help regulate stimulation. That activation may be linked to something personal, something emerging in the relational field, or something we are resonating with or absorbing from our client.
The Myth of the Fully Regulated Therapist
The idea that we as therapists should remain internally steady, present, embodied, connected, and “in Self” at all times is less a clinical reality and more a professional myth. This expectation is reinforced by training cultures that emphasize competence while rarely normalizing the natural variability of our internal states.
Therapy rooms are emotionally, somatically, and energetically charged environments. We sit with the full range of human experience: grief, trauma, longing, rage, shame, despair, and hope. Our nervous systems are continuously receiving signals and responding in kind.
The question is not whether we dissociate.
The question is how we relate to those moments when we do: with criticism, shame, or curiosity.
Dissociative Protectors as Clinical Allies
When we approach our own dissociative shifts with interest and attunement rather than judgment, possibilities emerge.
A sudden removal from presence might be telling us:
- something overwhelming just entered the relational field
- a part of the client is carrying an experience that has no language yet
- our own system is resonating with something implicit
- a protective part of us is stepping in to pace the session
Rather than fighting these moments, we can silently acknowledge them:
Something in me just shifted. Thank you for letting me know.
This internal stance often softens the dissociation itself bringing more presence, connection, and embodiment without that necessarily being the agenda.
Dissociation as Co-Regulation
Sometimes our own dissociation is not only about us. It can be relational. Nervous systems influence each other. Humans synchronize below conscious awareness.
There are moments when a client who carries shutdown or freeze states enters the room, and we as therapists begin to feel a faint echo of that state internally. This does not mean that we are being pulled under. It may mean our system is registering, mapping, and attuning to our client’s internal system.
In these instances, dissociation can function like a tuning fork. It gives us access to the client’s internal landscape through embodied resonance.
This is not something to push out. It is something to notice and perhaps make explicit with our client.
Befriending the Parts That Dissociate
Many therapists have protector parts that dislike dissociation intensely. These parts may say:
- You should be more present.
- You are failing.
- You are not attuned enough.
- Good therapists do not zone out.
Ironically, these critical parts often intensify dissociation. As with many internal polarizations, when one part increases its energy, the other tends to escalate in response rather than soften or step back.
When we instead relate to our dissociative protectors with respect, a different internal dynamic emerges. We might inwardly say:
“I see you. Thank you for stepping in. What are you concerned about what would happen if you didn’t?”
Even small gestures can matter: internally nodding to the dissociation, saying hello to it, or imagining holding its hand. This is the way I tend to work with my own system, and I have found it to be surprisingly impactful.
Even if no response comes from the dissociative part, the simple act of turning toward it can shift the emotional, energetic, and relational climate of our internal field. I believe this shift affects the relational field and is also felt by the client’s nervous system and their parts, helping them to relax, trust, and feel connected. The dissociation is no longer something happening to us or a pathology. It becomes something happening for us and in service of our clients.
When Dissociation Isn’t in Response to the Client
Not all dissociation in session originates from client material. Though it can be easy to forget in the moment, we are people with lives beyond the therapy room. A difficult conversation from earlier that day, a sick child, a looming deadline, unresolved grief, financial strain, hunger. Any of these can activate protectors in the middle of a session.
The goal is not to eliminate these responses. The goal is to recognize them and stay in relationship with them while remaining present enough for our client.
This is a “both-and” capacity. In other words: part of me is activated and I am still here with you, even if it is not said explicitly.
Often, simply acknowledging the activation internally reduces its intensity.
A Note on Dissociative Disorders in Therapists
It feels important to name what this article is not addressing. The focus here has been on the everyday, moment to moment spectrum of dissociative responses that many therapists experience in sessions. That is distinct from diagnosable dissociative disorders, which involve more pervasive, structured, and often impairing patterns of dissociation. Those clinical presentations deserve their own careful, nuanced discussion and cannot be reduced to the ordinary regulatory shifts described thus far.
At the same time, the existence of dissociative disorders among therapists is a topic that is rarely spoken about openly, often because it is surrounded by fear, stigma, and ethical anxiety. The conversation tends to collapse into extremes: either silence, or the assumption that a therapist who lives with significant dissociation should not be practicing. Neither extreme supports thoughtful clinical discernment.
Having a dissociative disorder does not automatically determine a clinician’s capacity to practice ethically or effectively. What matters is not diagnosis alone but factors such as self awareness, stability, access to support, willingness to monitor one’s functioning, and commitment to ongoing consultation. Many therapists live with complex internal systems, including dissociative ones, and are also deeply responsible, reflective, and resourced practitioners. Others may reach periods in their lives when their own internal activation requires them to scale back, seek additional care, or adjust their scope of practice. This is true for therapists with many different kinds of psychological and medical conditions, not only dissociation.
Discernment is essential. That discernment is rarely best done in isolation. Ongoing consultation, supervision, personal therapy, and collegial dialogue can all serve as mirrors that help a clinician accurately assess their level of presence, stability, and ethical responsiveness. Outside perspectives are not signs of inadequacy. They are safeguards that protect both therapist and client.
The goal is not to pathologize therapists with dissociative disorders, nor to minimize the real challenges such conditions can bring. The goal is to hold a mature middle ground: one that recognizes complexity, prioritizes client welfare, respects therapist humanity, and resists reflexive conclusions. Conversations about therapist dissociation, in all its forms, are most useful when they are guided by curiosity, responsibility, and care rather than fear or assumption.
The Dissociative Consultant
Befriending dissociative parts does not mean assuming every internal shift is diagnostic of the client. It means holding curiosity about what information the shift might carry.
The stance can be a gentle:
- Is this mine?
- Is this resonance?
- Is this fatigue?
- Is this something emerging between us?
This attitude helps buffer against automatic, unconscious reenactments of our own and our client’s past dynamics while preserving access to valuable relational information.
Many of us as therapists were trained, implicitly or explicitly, to fear our own dissociation. Yet what we resist internally often grows in intensity. What we welcome usually softens leaving space for more connection and choice.
Dissociative parts are not trying to sabotage therapy. They are trying to help us maintain stability in a moment of intensity. It is a regulatory assistant. A signal. A messenger.
When treated as such, it transforms into part of our internal consultation team.
For feedback and comments, I can be reached at max@maxlittman.com.
I provide consultation and therapy for therapists.
Purchase my new book IFS Therapy for Gay and Queer Men here.
