Political Overwhelm and Partial Dissociation: A Stuck Psyche.

Christine D. Fazio, LMHC, LPC, ACS

In my clinical practice, supervision of clinicians and/or in the classroom, I’ve noticed a pattern that feels increasingly common: thoughtful, engaged people describing a strange split in themselves. They are informed but numb. Outraged but immobilized. Scrolling but not metabolizing. They say things like, “I know this is serious, but I feel stuck,” or “I feel like I’m watching the country burn through glass.” What I’m hearing is not apathy. It is not ignorance. It is not a lack of moral seriousness.

It is, in many cases, a form of partial dissociation.

In the context of the ongoing political instability, threats to democratic norms, climate crisis, racial violence, economic precarity, and relentless media exposure in the United States, many citizens are living in a chronic state of nervous system activation. And when activation becomes unrelenting, the mind does what it has always done to survive trauma: it organizes experience by splitting it.

Dissociation as Adaptive Survival

From a trauma perspective, dissociation is not pathological first. It is protection.

When the nervous system perceives threat without sufficient relief or resolution, it moves through predictable survival states: fight, flight, freeze, collapse. Dissociation often accompanies freeze or collapse — a neurobiological dampening that allows the organism to endure what feels overwhelming or inescapable. Historically, we associate dissociation with acute trauma. But chronic sociopolitical instability can function as a slow-moving traumatic stressor. It is ambient. Ongoing. Unfinished.

Partial dissociation in this context can look like: Emotional numbing while consuming distressing news; Cynicism masquerading as intellectual clarity; Compulsive doomscrolling paired with a sense of unreality; alternating hyperarousal (rage, panic) and shutdown (detachment, fatigue). A sense that “none of this feels real” despite knowing it is

This is not denial. It is the nervous system rationing affect.

Splitting, Disavowal, and Un-mentalized Experience

From a psychoanalytic perspective, we might understand this moment through the lens of splitting and disavowal.

When reality feels unbearable, the psyche divides it:

• “This is catastrophic” coexists with “This doesn’t really affect me.”

• “Democracy is fragile” coexists with “Everything will probably be fine.”

These are not intellectual inconsistencies. They are defensive organizations of experience.

Bion’s concept of uncontained beta elements is useful here. Raw, unprocessed emotional experiences require containment; a mind that can metabolize them. But in a fragmented media environment driven by speed and outrage, there is little containment and limited capacity of the mind to digest and restore self. Instead, there is projection, amplification, and emotional contagion.

Without containment, experience becomes either: Flooding (panic, rage, despair), or Evacuated (numbness, dissociation, ironic detachment) We are witnessing both.

Why This Matters

When citizens live in chronic partial dissociation:

• Civic engagement decreases.

• Empathy narrows.

• Polarization intensifies.

• Despair masquerades as realism.

Clinically, we see increased anxiety, somatic complaints, sleep disturbance, relational strain, and existential fatigue.

Importantly, dissociation limits agency. If parts of experience are split off or numbed, action becomes either reactive or paralyzed. The goal is not to eliminate defensive processes because they are adaptive. The goal is to restore integration without overwhelming the system.

Trauma-Informed and Relational Ways to Address Political Dissociation

Below are approaches I often suggest to patients, students, and colleagues.

 Name the Dissociation Without Shaming It

Language restores mentalization.

Instead of:

• “I’m lazy.”

• “I don’t care anymore.”

Try:

• “A part of me feels overwhelmed and is shutting down.”

• “I notice I’m going numb right now.”

This shifts from moral judgment to compassionate curiosity. Dissociation softens when it is recognized rather than attacked.

Restore Relational Containment

Collective stress requires collective processing.

• Join structured discussion groups rather than relying solely on social media.

• Engage in conversations that prioritize listening over persuasion.

• Seek safe, intergenerational dialogue; it widens perspective and reduces catastrophic thinking.

In therapy, this may involve explicitly processing sociopolitical stress rather than bracketing it as “external.” Politics are lived in the body. Containment happens when another mind can hold what feels unbearable.

Move From Helplessness to Bounded Agency

Trauma narrows perceived options. Dissociation reinforces that narrowing.

Identify:

• One local action.

• One relational repair.

• One meaningful civic engagement.

Agency does not require solving the entire crisis. It requires movement from collapse toward participation. Even small actions reorganize the nervous system away from helplessness.

 Reintegrate the Body

Dissociation often involves disconnection from somatic experience.

Grounding practices are not clichés; they are neurobiological interventions:

• Feel your feet on the floor while reading the news.

• Track breath.

• Engage in rhythmic movement.

• Notice temperature, pressure, orientation.

The body anchors the psyche in present time, differentiating current stress from past trauma.

Partial dissociation in the face of chronic sociopolitical crisis is not weakness. It is the mind’s attempt to survive what feels uncontainable. But survival strategies that protect us from overwhelm can also distance us from aliveness, agency, and connection.

As clinicians, educators, and citizens, our task is not to demand constant activation. Nor is it to collude with numbing. Our task is integration; helping ourselves and others metabolize reality in ways that preserve dignity, complexity, and relational connection.

In trauma work, we often say: the opposite of trauma is not calm; it is connection.

In this political moment, that feels especially true.

Christine D. Fazio, LMHC, LPC, ACS - a relational, psychoanalytic psychotherapist working in Brooklyn and Manhattan. christine@mymoderntherapist.com

When Anxiety Is Really Anger: A Relational Perspective on Displaced Emotion

Christine D. Fazio, LMHC-D, LPC, ACS

Most people who come to therapy naming anxiety as their main concern describe a familiar cluster of symptoms—racing thoughts, tight chest, trouble sleeping, difficulty concentrating. Sometimes it feels like a vague sense of dread or a persistent worry that won’t quiet down. But as we begin to explore the roots of that anxiety together, something deeper often begins to emerge: beneath the surface, there’s anger—unspoken, unacknowledged, and often displaced.

From a relational psychoanalytic perspective, emotions don’t exist in isolation. They are shaped in the context of our earliest relationships, internalized over time, and then enacted—often unconsciously—in our present lives. When anger is unsafe to feel or express, especially in early attachment relationships, the psyche finds a way to manage it. One of the most common defense strategies? Turning anger into anxiety.

Why Would We Turn Anger Into Anxiety?

As children, we are exquisitely attuned to the emotional climate around us. If anger—our own or others’—was punished, ignored, or met with withdrawal, we learned quickly that this emotion was dangerous. And so we adapted. We may have swallowed our anger, redirected it inward, or transformed it into something more “acceptable”—like worry, guilt, or perfectionism.

Over time, this internal re-routing becomes automatic. We no longer recognize our anger for what it is. Instead, we feel anxious. We fear conflict. We obsess over whether we've upset someone. We try to control outcomes to avoid disappointment or rejection. These are all ways we try to manage something deeper that’s not being named.

Anxiety as a Signal, Not a Symptom

In relational work, we treat anxiety not just as a symptom to be reduced but as a signal to be understood. We listen carefully to the language of the body and the emotional patterns that arise in the therapeutic relationship itself. Anxiety often emerges in moments of perceived threat—not always from something objectively dangerous, but from something emotionally charged: a boundary we’re afraid to set, a truth we’re scared to acknowledge, a disappointment we don’t want to feel.

Sometimes, anxiety appears in the room precisely when a patient starts to make contact with their anger. That anger may not be loud or explosive. It may show up as a quiet resentment, a sense of being unseen, or a pull toward withdrawal. These are all relational cues that something important is trying to be expressed.

Displaced Anger, Disowned Power

When anger is disowned, we can lose touch with our sense of agency. We become anxious in the face of choices or conflict because we haven’t learned how to stay in contact with our assertiveness. Displaced anger might show up in our bodies—tight shoulders, clenched jaws—or in our relationships, where we may overreact to minor slights or avoid difficult conversations altogether.

In therapy, we gently explore where this anger belongs. Whose feelings are we carrying? What messages did we internalize about the danger of being angry? And how can we reclaim this feeling as part of our emotional truth?

Reclaiming Anger, Reclaiming Self

From a relational perspective, therapy is a co-created space where we learn—often for the first time—that it's possible to feel angry and stay connected. That we can express hard emotions and not be abandoned. That our full selves are welcome.

As we begin to integrate anger rather than displace it, anxiety often softens. There is less need for the psyche to be on high alert when we are no longer in hiding from our own truth. Anger, when allowed to exist, becomes a source of clarity, vitality, and boundary-setting. It helps us know where we end and others begin. It teaches us what matters.

If you notice that your anxiety seems persistent or confusing, it may be worth asking: What might I be angry about? And if that question feels difficult to answer, therapy can offer a space to find out—not alone, but in relationship.

The Cracks Are Where the Light Comes In: How Vulnerability Deepens Relationships

By Christine D. Fazio, LMHC

I’ve spent over a decade sitting with people who long for deeper, more authentic connection. I’ve heard stories of loneliness in the middle of partnerships, disconnection among friends, and the deep ache of not feeling known. Beneath it all, I see a quiet truth we often resist: the very thing that builds closeness—vulnerability—is the thing we most fear.

We live in a culture that praises strength, independence, and self-sufficiency. We learn to mask our insecurities, package our stories for social consumption, and hold our pain behind locked emotional doors. But intimacy—true, soulful, transformative intimacy—requires something different. It asks us to risk being seen.

Vulnerability Isn’t Weakness—It’s the Root of Connection

Vulnerability is often mistaken for weakness. In truth, it’s an act of courage. It means allowing someone to see the parts of you you’re not sure are lovable. It’s saying, “I’m scared,” or “I need you,” or “I don’t know what I’m doing.” And when we do this with someone who can meet us with presence and empathy, something profound happens: the space between us softens. We start to feel less alone.

This dynamic is at the heart of relational therapy. The therapeutic relationship becomes a place to practice honesty without shame, to risk disappointment, and to be met with curiosity instead of judgment. Over time, those moments of vulnerability build trust. And that trust becomes a template for how we show up in the world—with partners, with peers, even in our communities.

With Friends and Peers: Practicing Vulnerability Outside the Therapy Room

It’s not just romantic relationships that benefit from openness. Friendships, peer relationships, and even work partnerships deepen when we allow ourselves to be emotionally available. Small acts of self-revelation are radical in a world that tells us to keep it together. They communicate trust, openness, and a willingness to engage in mutual care. And while not every person will be able to meet us in that space, the ones who do often become the people we feel safest with.

The Risk and the Reward

Of course, vulnerability comes with risk. Not everyone will respond with kindness. Some may withdraw, minimize, or turn away. But the risk of vulnerability is far outweighed by its potential reward: the chance to be deeply known and loved—not in spite of your messiness, but because of your willingness to share it.

As a therapist, I hold space every day for this kind of risk-taking. I witness the way healing begins when people stop performing and start being. And my hope is that what happens in the therapy room will ripple outward—that we’ll all begin to show up in our lives a little more real, a little more open, and a little braver.

The path to closeness isn't paved with perfection—it's paved with presence. Let yourself be seen. Let yourself be human. It’s in the cracks that the connection takes root.

If you’re longing for deeper connection and don’t know where to begin, therapy can be a powerful place to start. Reach out. There is nothing wrong with needing help to learn how to be open again.

Rejecting Anti-Fatness: Reclaiming Our Bodies from a System That Was Never Meant to Hold Us

By Christine D. Fazio, LMHC
Psychotherapist | Relational, Psychodynamic

I often sit across from people who’ve spent a lifetime at war with their bodies. Clients whisper confessions about “losing control,” “letting themselves go,” or living in fear of becoming large. These aren’t just personal insecurities, they’re echoes of a culture obsessed with thinness, control, and perfection. A culture that assigns worth to a number on a scale. A culture that devalues fat bodies and makes invisible people living in them.

If you carry shame and fear about your body, you are not alone. And you are not the problem.

Anti-Fatness Is a System, Not a Personal Failing

Let’s name what we’re up against: anti-fatness is systemic. It’s built into our medical systems, workplaces, media, and relationships. It shows up in how chairs are designed, in who gets hired or taken seriously, and in who receives compassionate healthcare. And for many people, especially Black, brown, disabled, trans, and queer folks—body size becomes yet another axis on which their humanity is questioned.

From a psychodynamic lens, the messages we receive about our bodies sink deep. They shape our inner worlds. Children who internalize fatphobia often carry unconscious beliefs that their worth is conditional. That love must be earned through control, smallness, or self-denial.

How Internalized Fatphobia Hurts Us

Internalized fatphobia can sound like:

·       “I feel gross, and I don’t want my partner to touch me”

·       “No one will want me unless I change my body.”

·       “I’m failing at taking care of myself.”

These beliefs do more than cause distress, they fracture the self. They create internal dynamics of shame, punishment, and perfectionism that mimic early wounds or relational traumas. They keep us alienated from our own bodies, seeing them as enemies rather than companions.

The Inner Conflict of Modern Body Positivity and Inner Dialogues

Fatphobia is a social illness that runs deep into our body and psyche. In more recent times, we’ve working to externally combat some of the fatphobic narratives. This means that it’s not “cool” to diet, restrict or to even “care” about our physical shape. But the fails to address the deep-rooted experience of on internalized fatphobia. Instead, it pushes our self-loathing or diet culture narratives into isolation and in the recess of our private minds, where is thrives in the darkness. Just because our intellectual, adult selves truly believe in the body liberation/neutrality, this does not address the deep wounds of body oppressions routinely applied by the social and private spheres. The conflicts often present for my patients like this:

·       “I can’t tell whether I am working out to be thin or because it’s healthy”

·       “It’s like I totally reject diet culture, but I don’t want to be fat and feel so guilty I feel this way”

·       “If I really release my self-loathing, I will just lose control and be fat”

And in therapy, we work to shift our patterns, give language and normalize the conflict and build a bridge between how want to experience our bodies and how we actually do.

A Relational Path Toward Body Liberation

Healing from internalized fatphobia isn’t about replacing self-loathing with forced affirmations. It’s about rebuilding a relationship—with your body, with your self, and with others who can truly see you.

In relational therapy, we explore:

·       Where did these body beliefs come from?

·       How have power, trauma, and oppression shaped your experience of your body?

·       What would it feel like to live without the constant pressure to shrink?

We make space for grief—for the years lost to dieting, the pain of being unseen, the longing to take up space without apology.

And slowly, we create new patterns. Not just cognitive shifts, but embodied ones. Moments where you choose nourishment over restriction. Rest over punishment. Pleasure over penance.

Toward a World Where All Bodies Are Safe

Body liberation is not a personal project—it’s a collective movement. As therapists, we must be accountable to how fatphobia, ableism, and white supremacy shape our work and our spaces. We must challenge clinical norms that pathologize fatness and equate thinness with health.

To those reading this who live in marginalized bodies: you don’t have to earn your right to be seen, heard, or loved. Your body is not a problem to be solved. You don’t need to be fixed—you need space, safety, and connection.

You are already whole.

If you're interested in working with a therapist who understands these dynamics—who sees your body as sacred, political, and worthy—I welcome you to reach out.

Let’s unlearn, together.

Understanding ATTACHMENT PANIC

By Christine D. Fazio, LMHC — Psychodynamic & Relational Therapist

There’s a specific kind of panic that doesn’t always come with a name—but you feel it deeply. It may show up when someone pulls away from you, when a text goes unanswered, or when you sense a shift in tone from a loved one. Your heart races, your mind spins, and you feel flooded, unsafe, or suddenly alone.

This is what I call adult attachment panic— a visceral, emotional reaction rooted in the fear of disconnection. And if this feels familiar, you’re not broken or overly sensitive. You’re likely responding to something old, protective, and deeply human.

What Is Adult Attachment Panic?

Attachment panic is an intense emotional reaction triggered by perceived threat to a significant relationship. It’s the adult echo of a much earlier experience—when connection was tied to survival.

You may feel:
- Fear that someone is leaving or will reject you
- A deep urgency to “fix” or restore connection
- Physical symptoms—tight chest, nausea, shaking
- Self-blame or hyper-focus on what you “did wrong”
- A collapse into despair or emotional numbing

This isn’t drama. It’s your nervous system doing what it learned to do in the face of potential loss.

Why Does This Happen?

If you grew up in an environment where emotional connection was unpredictable, conditional, or inconsistent, your attachment system likely developed some high-alert settings.

When a current relationship starts to echo even a hint of that early instability, your body remembers. The panic doesn’t always align with the present situation—but it makes perfect sense through the lens of your history.

“I Know It’s Irrational, But I Can’t Stop the Feeling”

That’s the thing about attachment panic—it often doesn’t respond to logic. You may know someone isn’t leaving, or that you’re reading into something, and yet your body reacts like it’s an emergency.

This is where relational, psychodynamic therapy can help. Together, we slow down the automatic response and begin to understand where it came from—and how it plays out in your life now.

What We Explore in Therapy

In therapy, we don’t pathologize your attachment needs. Instead, we explore:
- The emotional blueprint you learned early in life
- What your panic is trying to protect
- How it shows up in romantic relationships, friendships, or even in therapy
- New ways of relating that allow for safety, trust, and repair

We use the therapy relationship itself as a space to notice and gently work through these patterns in real time. With consistency and care, your system can begin to rewire.

Healing Is Possible

You don’t have to live in constant fear of disconnection. You don’t have to earn your right to stay connected. Therapy offers a space where you can begin to feel safe being attached, even when things feel uncertain.

If you’ve been caught in cycles of intense emotional reactions, self-doubt, or difficulty trusting others, you’re not alone—and you’re not beyond help. These patterns are invitations to heal old wounds through new experiences of connection.

Work With Me

I offer in-person therapy in Greenpoint and Downtown Brooklyn, and virtual therapy for adults across NY and NJ. My work is grounded in relational, psychodynamic therapy—attuned to the complexities of attachment and emotional safety.

Reach out here to schedule a consultation: https://www.christinedfaziolmhc.com/

How Psychodynamic Therapy Helps You Break Old Patterns

By Christine D. Fazio, LMHC – Licensed Psychotherapist in Brooklyn and NJ

Have you ever noticed the same themes showing up in your relationships, your work, or even your internal dialogue—over and over again? Different people, different settings, but the same dynamic?

These are the patterns psychodynamic therapy seeks to understand. Often subtle, sometimes painful, these patterns are not random. They’re rooted in early experiences, shaped by relationships, and carried forward without our awareness.

Psychodynamic therapy, especially when rooted in a relational approach, offers a space to make these unconscious patterns conscious. And when we bring awareness to what’s been automatic, we can begin to choose differently.

What Are “Old Patterns,” Exactly?

In therapy, we often talk about patterns of:

• Avoidance or withdrawal

• People-pleasing or overfunctioning

• Distrust or emotional distancing

• Repetition of painful relationship dynamics

• Harsh self-criticism or perfectionism

These aren’t character flaws—they’re coping strategies. Often formed in response to early attachment experiences, these behaviors once served a purpose. But over time, they can keep us stuck.

The Role of the Past in the Present

Psychodynamic therapy is not just about talking through childhood memories—though we may explore those. It’s about understanding how the emotional blueprint from your past is alive in your present-day choices, feelings, and relationships.

Together, we trace these patterns with curiosity and compassion. The goal is not to blame, but to understand.

The Therapy Relationship as a Mirror

One of the most unique aspects of psychodynamic therapy is that the therapeutic relationship itself becomes part of the work. That may sound a bit abstract, but here’s what it means:

The way you experience and relate to your therapist often reflects how you relate in other areas of your life. We use the space between us—our interactions, missteps, moments of connection—as a live, safe place to explore relational patterns as they unfold.

This can be a deeply healing process. It allows us to not just talk about change, but experience it in real time.

Why It’s Hard to “Just Stop” Repeating Old Habits

You may have already tried to change—setting boundaries, reading self-help books, telling yourself to “just let go.” Insight alone isn’t always enough. Psychodynamic therapy goes a layer deeper. It helps you uncover why certain dynamics feel inevitable, why it’s so hard to choose differently, and what internal conflicts might be keeping you in the loop.

How Therapy Helps You Make Different Choices

As awareness grows, so does your freedom. You begin to:

• Recognize when you're falling into a familiar role

• Feel more empowered in your relationships

• Be less reactive and more intentional

• Soften harsh inner narratives

• Cultivate new ways of being—with others and with yourself

You’re Not Alone in This

Being alive and conscious in this world is hard. There is no one-size-fits-all solution, and change rarely happens overnight. But with time, curiosity, and a space that holds your experience with care, transformation is possible.

As a psychodynamic and relational therapist in Brooklyn and NJ, I offer both in-person and virtual sessions to meet you where you are. If you’re ready to explore the patterns that shape your life—and how you might begin to shift them—I welcome you to reach out.