Healing the Fragmented Self: Trauma, Internal Parts, and the Wisdom of Soul Retrieval
- Sarah Ryan
- Feb 3
- 3 min read
Trauma doesn't just leave scars on the body; it can fracture the very sense of self. This internal fragmentation, where parts of us feel disconnected or alien, is a survival response - a way the psyche protects itself from overwhelming experiences. Dr. Janina Fisher, a renowned expert in trauma therapy, explores this phenomenon in her book Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors: Overcoming Internal Self-Alienation. She offers a compassionate framework for understanding how trauma disrupts our inner cohesion and how healing involves reintegrating these fragmented parts.
Dr. Fisher's work draws from Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, Internal Family Systems (IFS), and mindfulness practices, all of which recognize that the self is not a singular, static entity but a dynamic system of parts. In the aftermath of trauma, these parts can become polarised-some carrying the weight of pain, fear, or shame, while others attempt to suppress or manage those burdens. Survivors often find themselves caught in internal conflicts, feeling alienated from emotions or behaviours that seem foreign yet persistently present.
Parallels to Soul Retrieval Practices
What's striking is how this modern psychological understanding echoes ancient healing traditions, particularly the concept of soul retrieval found in many Indigenous cultures around the world. While the specifics vary, the underlying belief is that during traumatic events, a part of the soul-or vital essence-can become lost or dissociated as a protective mechanism. This loss manifests as feelings of emptiness, disconnection, or a sense that something essential is missing.
Soul retrieval practices aim to bring these lost parts back, restoring wholeness. The process often involves a healer guiding the individual to recover these parts through ritual, journeying, or storytelling. It's not about erasing the pain but acknowledging it, honouring the part that left, and inviting it home with care and respect.
When we compare this to Dr. Fisher's therapeutic model, the parallels are profound. Both
approaches recognise that healing isn't about "fixing" what's broken but welcoming back what was exiled. In therapy, this might mean gently meeting dissociated parts with curiosity and compassion-understanding that the behaviors or emotions we find troubling were once survival strategies. Through mindfulness and somatic awareness, clients learn to listen to these parts, validating their experiences rather than suppressing them.
Fragmentation on a Spectrum: Everyday Losses of Self
While the more extreme forms of fragmentation often result from acute trauma - where parts of the self are exiled in response to overwhelming experiences - this process also occurs on a much subtler scale in our everyday lives. Fragmentation exists on a spectrum, from profound dissociation to the quieter, often unnoticed ways we deny or disconnect from parts of ourselves in interpersonal relationships. Consider how, in relationships with partners, friends, or colleagues, we might suppress natural aspects of our identity to maintain connection or avoid conflict. Perhaps we downplay our creativity because a partner dismisses it, or we silence our opinions in a work environment that feels unsafe
for authenticity. These are protective adaptations - small exiles - that help us navigate social dynamics, but over time, they can lead to a sense of disconnection from who we truly are.
This more subtle form of fragmentation isn't necessarily born from trauma in the clinical sense, but from the universal human experience of wanting to belong and be accepted. The cost, however, is often a quiet erosion of selfhood. We may wake up one day feeling lost, not because of a singular catastrophic event, but because we've gradually let go of the parts that once made us feel whole and vibrant. Reclaiming these parts involves a process of realignment-not unlike soul retrieval, though perhaps less dramatic. It's about noticing where we've abandoned ourselves, gently inviting those lost aspects back, and honoring the reasons they went into hiding in the first place. These parts didn't disappear without cause; they retreated to keep us psychologically safe in environments where authenticity felt risky.
The healing process, whether addressing profound trauma or the more subtle losses of self in everyday life, requires the same ingredients: awareness, compassion, and an openness to
reconnect. It's not about returning to some idealised version of ourselves, but about making room for all of who we are, even the parts we've tucked away. In doing so, we reclaim not just lost fragments, but the sense of wholeness that comes from living in alignment with our true selves.
