
Survivor, Consultant, Coach
Master's Clinical Psychology - Harvard University
Dissociated Pain Release (DPR) is a self-help technique that allows users to release emotional pain from trauma without re-experiencing it. It is based on the idea that emotional pain is stored in the mind, body, and nervous system and that the stored pain causes distress and discomfort in the present, whether the trauma was a recent event or something that happened many years ago.
There is no need for a DPR user to know where any emotional pain came from. All a user needs to know is that they are currently experiencing unwanted emotional pain and that they would like to release that pain and feel better -- quickly.
Most importantly, in DPR, emotional pains are released while the user is dissociated from them -- allowing the user to process any trauma or distress without being forced to relive the original traumatic experience.
Examples of emotional pain that can be released from the body and nervous system through DPR include rage, anger, shame, sadness, guilt, grief, loneliness, abandonment, anxiety, and fear.
Likewise, DRP allows users to release any stored sensations associated with physical pain or forms of bodily discomfort that happened in the past. DPR users can release sensations of nausea, dizziness, cold, being drugged, etc. Again, all these sensations are released without the DRP user re-experiencing the original potency of any traumatic event. Often DPR users release pain without even knowing what the original traumatic event may have been.
DPR has three cyclical steps: (A) identify pain to release, (B) dissociate from the pain, and (C) release the pain. Once understood, DPR is a simple, repetitive process that applies in many self-help situations. Any user employing DPR expects to complete its A-B-C cycle several times in any one self-help session. It is understood that there may be several painful emotions, different forms of physical pain and other negative bodily sensations that require release, making time and repetition necessary.


Survivor, Consultant, Coach, Educator
Master's Clinical Psychology, Harvard Univerisity
Like many others, I grew up in a household that didn't offer me the basic protections all children need. I experienced extreme trauma as a very young child and, unfortunately, that trauma continued into my adolescence and adulthood.
I survived adolescence emotionally by focusing on studying contemporary dance, helping me process my emotions and increase my body awareness. As a young adult in my twenties, I was exposed to relaxation and meditation techniques and the idea that healing that comes naturally when we move our eyes as we dream.
In my mid-twenties, memories of traumatic events that had happened during my early childhood began to return to my consciousness. I knew about EMDR (Eye-Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy for trauma, but wasn't in a situation that allowed me consistent access to a trauma therapist.
So, I began working through my traumatic memories on my own, combining what I'd learned about the emotions I felt in my body through dancing with relaxation and visualization techniques. I added what I decided to call REM Simulation -- or Rapid Eye Movement Simulation. REM sleep is the deep dreaming sleep in which humans naturally process emotions.
The result was a self-help technique that made it possible for me to work through the terrible emotions associated with traumatic events that had occurred in my past and regain the sense of emotional stability I needed -- all without having an opportunity to get the therapeutic support I needed.
I dubbed my self-help technique DPR, or Dissociated Pain Release, and decided that I didn't want it to ever become something that anyone with an advanced degree and a lot of privilege could tell people they weren't qualified to perform at home on their own.
Therapy is wonderful and everyone who has access to a therapist should take advantage of that privilege. But recovery strategies should be available to anyone anywhere. That's what DPR is about for me.
From my perspective, DPR is nothing more than a collection of practical ideas put together in one package to help all of us get through the difficult emotions humans feel. It's valuable because it works and it uses human's natural REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep processing methods.


Series VI, Article 1: The Arc That Does Not End
Erik Erikson understood development as both sequential and cumulative: each stage arose from the resolution of the ones before it, each creating the ground the next required to grow from (Erikson, 1963; Erikson & Erikson, 1997). What his framework made less explicit, though he never said otherwise, is that the stages do not expire when their expected windows close. The developmental work that trust formation requires does not become unavailable when childhood ends. The identity work associated with adolescence and young adulthood does not become inaccessible at thirty or forty or sixty. The stages mark the periods when particular developmental challenges become most pressing, most visible, and most consequential for what follows. They do not mark the periods after which that work can no longer be done.
The two stages at the center of this series are the seventh and eighth in Erikson's framework. The seventh, generativity, is the concern for contributing something beyond the self: for guiding, creating, mentoring, and caring in ways that extend beyond one's own life and into the lives of others (Erikson, 1963; McAdams & de St. Aubin, 1992). Erikson associated it broadly with middle adulthood, though like all his stages it is not rigidly age-bound. Its virtue is care in the developmental sense: the capacity to invest in people, ideas, and communities that will continue after the self. Its failure state is stagnation: the energy of the self absorbed inward rather than offered outward, the sense of circling in place without direction or consequence.
The eighth stage, integrity, is the retrospective work of later life: looking back on the life that has been lived and asking whether it can be recognized as meaningful, coherent, and genuinely one's own (Butler, 1963; Erikson & Erikson, 1997; McAdams, 2001). Its virtue is wisdom: the hard-won capacity to accept the arc of a life, including its losses and failures, as something that was real and worth having lived. Its failure state is despair: the sense that time was wasted, that the life was somehow wrong, and that it is too late for anything to be different.
This distinction matters for every person. It matters most acutely for autistic people who moved through the expected developmental windows without the conditions those stages required.
The series that preceded this one has traced those conditions in detail. Trust formation requires a holding environment calibrated to the specific nervous system doing the trusting (Winnicott, 1965). Autonomy and initiative require environments that respond to authentic self-expression rather than correcting it. Identity formation requires access to the authentic self from which the self-concept is being built, rather than the performed self that masking constructs over it (Hull et al., 2017; Kapp et al., 2013). Intimacy requires two distinct selves who can be genuinely known to each other, which requires that each person know who they are. Each of those stages creates the ground from which the next grows. The seventh and eighth are where this series now arrives.
What many autistic people who were identified late, or who are still working toward identification, have in common is that the conditions for these stages were not adequately present during the periods when the stages were supposed to be navigated (Leedham et al., 2020). Not because of anything wrong with the autistic developmental pathway, but because the environments those people moved through were not built for the pathway they were on.
The Spiral and the Staircase Across the Full Arc
MacMillan's Spiral and Staircase Model™ has been the organizing framework for this series of articles on psychosocial development from the beginning. Non-autistic development follows a spiral pathway: the continuous oscillation between going out into the world and curving back to integrate what came back, between assimilation and accommodation, between confidence and self-doubt, each cycle rising a little higher. Autistic development follows a staircase pathway: the concentrated vertical rise of genuine new learning, followed by the horizontal surface of consolidation and application, followed by another rise.
These pathways do not operate only during childhood and adolescence and then retire. They are the characteristic structures through which non-autistic and autistic people process experience and build their understanding of the world throughout life (Erikson & Erikson, 1997). The spiral's oscillation continues through every decade. The staircase's sequential rise continues as long as new information and new holding environments are available to fuel it.
This means that lifelong developmental work is not a departure from the model. It is the model doing what it has always done, now applied to adults navigating developmental tasks that earlier environments did not support. The spiral pathway, meeting new and more accurately calibrated relationships and environments, can do the integrative oscillatory work it has always done, but now with better raw material. The staircase pathway, given accurate information and adequate time on each horizontal surface before the next rise is required, can work through stages it was not given the conditions to complete the first time.
Neither pathway is locked out of earlier developmental work by the passage of time. The question is whether the conditions for that work are now available.
What Development Actually Requires
Every stage in Erikson's framework has two components: the developmental task itself, and the environmental conditions that make genuine resolution of that task possible (Erikson, 1963; Winnicott, 1965). The holding environment, the responsiveness of the people and structures around the developing person, is not incidental to development. It is constitutive of it. Development does not happen inside the person alone. It happens between the person and the environments they move through.
This is why the developmental histories this series has traced carry the weight they do. The autistic person who grew up in correction environments, who learned that their authentic expressions required adjustment before they would be welcome, who built a performed self over the authentic one through years of masking, did not simply have a difficult childhood. They had a childhood in which the conditions for genuine developmental resolution of trust, autonomy, initiative, industry, and identity were systematically compromised by environments that did not understand the pathway they were navigating (Hull et al., 2017; Kapp et al., 2013).
The same is true for the non-autistic person, particularly the high body empathetic in MacMillan's theoretical framework, who moved through early development in environments that did not support the assimilative side of the oscillation, or who spent years in close relationship with an autistic partner without adequate sources of body empathy reciprocation. The spiral's oscillation, too, requires specific conditions to produce genuine developmental resolution rather than partial resolution built on distorted raw material.
What this means is that the failure to resolve a developmental stage during its expected window is not a permanent condition. It is the expected outcome of inadequate environmental conditions. And when those conditions change, when the person gains access to environments genuinely calibrated to their developmental pathway, the stage becomes accessible for reworking in a way it was not before.
The Moment That Opens the Arc
For many autistic people, the change in conditions that makes developmental reworking possible arrives through a specific event: the acceptance of autistic identity. With or without formal diagnosis, the moment at which a person recognizes and accepts that their development follows the autistic pathway is the moment at which the accurate framework for understanding their own developmental history becomes available (Kapp et al., 2013; Leedham et al., 2020).
What that framework makes possible is not simply better self-understanding, though it produces that. It makes possible the retrospective reorganization of everything that came before: the correction of the distorted feedback that shaped earlier stages, the recognition that the performing self was not the authentic self, and the sequential developmental work of returning to each stage with accurate information and, where possible, better-calibrated environments and relationships (Hull et al., 2017; Leedham et al., 2020).
The trust stage can be revisited: autistic people who had good reason to experience the world as unsafe to trust can encounter, in autistic community and in relationships that genuinely receive the authentic self, the experience of trust being warranted. The autonomy and initiative stages can be revisited: people who learned that their authentic self-expression required correction can discover, in environments that receive it accurately, that the self is allowed to choose and to act from itself. The identity stage, as the previous series described in detail, is often the first stage that identification directly addresses, but it opens the way for everything before it to be reworked as well.
The staircase pathway is particularly well suited to this sequential reworking. Its characteristic structure, the concentrated vertical rise of explicit new learning followed by the horizontal surface of genuine consolidation, is precisely the structure that deliberate developmental work through the stages requires. Each stage can be addressed explicitly, in order, with the time and support needed for genuine resolution before the next one is attempted. Non-autistic people navigating the same reworking through the spiral pathway bring the continuous social calibration that the spiral provides to each stage in turn, integrating new and more accurate feedback into the self-concept that earlier environments distorted.
Neither pathway completes this reworking quickly. Both require what every developmental stage has always required: accurate conditions, genuine holding environments, and enough time (Erikson & Erikson, 1997; Winnicott, 1965). What changes is the possibility. And the possibility is real.
What This Series Will Trace
The articles that follow trace the final two movements of Erikson's arc across both developmental pathways, held within this larger understanding of development as a lifelong opportunity rather than an age-limited sequence (Erikson & Erikson, 1997).
The first of those movements is generativity: what contributing beyond the self looks like along each pathway, what the staircase's specific forms of contribution are, what the spiral's continuous social calibration brings to the question of care, and what it means when the channels for contribution have been blocked by environments that could not receive what either pathway was trying to offer (Erikson, 1963; McAdams & de St. Aubin, 1992).
The second is integrity: looking back on the life and finding it recognizably one's own. For people on the non-autistic pathway, this tends to work through narrative coherence, the story the spiral's oscillation has been building all along (McAdams, 2001; McAdams & McLean, 2013). For autistic people, the life review may take different forms. Some autistic people will find their way to integrity through narrative. Others may find that pattern and sequence mapping does the work more naturally: seeing the recurring structures that have run through the life, recognizing the sequences that have led to where one is now, and understanding, perhaps for the first time, why things kept happening in the particular ways they did (Baron-Cohen, 2009; Happé & Frith, 2006). That recognition, whether it arrives through narrative or through the mapping of patterns and sequences, is what allows the life to be claimed as genuinely one's own.
Both movements, and the overarching insight about development as a lifelong and reworkable arc, close this work on neurodiverse psychosocial development that has been building toward this from the beginning: the argument that the developmental pathway a person follows shapes everything about how the major tasks of a human life are approached, what they require, and what they make possible, and that both pathways, understood accurately and supported genuinely, lead to the same destination.
A life that is genuinely, recognizably, and irreversibly one's own.
Next in this series: Returning to Earlier Ground, what the retrospective reworking of earlier developmental stages looks like along the spiral and staircase pathways, and the foundation of a developmental framework for autistic and non-autistic people to work through Erikson's arc sequentially, at whatever age that work begins.
THE SERIES
Article 1: The Arc That Does Not End
Article 2: Returning to Earlier Ground
Article 3: Generativity Across Both Pathways
Article 4: Integrity Across Both Pathways
Article 5: The Destination
References
Baron-Cohen, S. (2009). Autism: The empathizing-systemizing (E-S) theory. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1156(1), 68–80. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1749-6632.2009.04467.x
Butler, R. N. (1963). The life review: An interpretation of reminiscence in the aged. Psychiatry, 26(1), 65–76. https://doi.org/10.1080/00332747.1963.11023339
Erikson, E. H. (1963). Childhood and society (2nd ed.). W. W. Norton.
Erikson, E. H., & Erikson, J. M. (1997). The life cycle completed: Extended version. W. W. Norton.
Happé, F., & Frith, U. (2006). The weak coherence account: Detail-focused cognitive style in autism spectrum disorders. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 36(1), 5–25. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-005-0039-0
Hull, L., Petrides, K. V., Allison, C., Smith, P., Baron-Cohen, S., Lai, M.-C., & Mandy, W. (2017). “Putting on my best normal”: Social camouflaging in adults with autism spectrum conditions. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 47(8), 2519–2534. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3166-5
Kapp, S. K., Gillespie-Lynch, K., Sherman, L. E., & Hutman, T. (2013). Deficit, difference, or both? Autism and neurodiversity. Developmental Psychology, 49(1), 59–71. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0028353
Leedham, A., Thompson, A. R., Smith, R., & Freeth, M. (2020). “I was exhausted trying to figure it out”: The experiences of females receiving an autism diagnosis in middle to late adulthood. Autism, 24(1), 135–146. https://doi.org/10.1177/1362361319853442
McAdams, D. P. (2001). The psychology of life stories. Review of General Psychology, 5(2), 100–122. https://doi.org/10.1037/1089-2680.5.2.100
McAdams, D. P., & de St. Aubin, E. (1992). A theory of generativity and its assessment through self-report, behavioral acts, and narrative themes in autobiography. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 62(6), 1003–1015. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.62.6.1003
McAdams, D. P., & McLean, K. C. (2013). Narrative identity. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 22(3), 233–238. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721413475622
Winnicott, D. W. (1965). The maturational processes and the facilitating environment: Studies in the theory of emotional development. International Universities Press.
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