Working with Avoidance: Meeting the Parts That Don’t Want to Know Navigating dissociation, amnesia and internal resistance in complex trauma therapy (Based on a workshop with Kathy Steele)

Avoidance in therapy can be difficult to work with. As therapists, we can find ourselves frustrated, confused, even rejected. We might feel a sense of urgency to "break through," to get somewhere. To fix it.

But when it comes to complex trauma, avoidance is often a form of deep self-protection. It isn’t resistance for the sake of it. It’s not laziness, or obstinacy. It’s a part doing its job.

In IFS terms, this might be a protector part—holding back awareness, shutting down access to traumatic memory or emotion in order to keep the system safe. The paradox is that it often blocks the very healing the client is seeking. But it does so with reason. And until that reason is understood and respected, the system won’t let go.

The Role of Curiosity

Working with clients who are highly avoidant requires patience. It requires curiosity—not just ours, but theirs. And that’s one of the challenges: many clients don’t yet have the capacity to be curious about themselves.

So rather than forcing a deeper dive, we often need to begin by helping them become curious about their lack of curiosity.

"What do you think might happen if we really looked at this?" "Is there a part of you that doesn’t want to know? What might it be protecting you from?"

It’s a slow process. We build capacity gradually. We spiral in rather than push forward. We stay with the present. We name the avoidance as a part of the process.

Avoidance and the Therapist

When clients avoid, it often activates something in us. We feel urgent. We feel stuck. We start strategizing. Trying to push forward, or pull something out. We move into technique or content because we want to feel like we’re doing something.

But often, what’s needed is less.

More stillness. More attunement.

Less doing, more being.

In some cases, the best thing we can do is simply hold the space with steadiness and clarity, trusting that even if it seems like nothing is happening, something in the system is watching, waiting, assessing safety.

We have to resist our own avoidant parts—the ones that rush in to save us from discomfort.

A System in Conflict

In complex trauma, there is often a conflict between parts of the system. Some parts do want to know. Others absolutely don’t.

One part may want to remember, to speak, to release the story. But another may believe that remembering is intolerable. That the story is unsafe.

In therapy, we must never take sides in this internal conflict. Our job is to name it, honour it, and help the client move toward internal consensus. In many cases, healing comes not through catharsis, but through negotiation between parts.

"If this memory were to come forward, what would be the most unbearable thing about it?"

Sometimes it’s not even the trauma itself that holds the most pain—it’s what came after.The silence. The betrayal. The fact that no one noticed.

Amnesia and Dissociation

In some cases, the avoidance is extreme. There may be significant amnesia. Dissociative parts. A complete absence of narrative continuity.

We must be careful not to rush in with techniques or assumptions. There is no hypnotherapy trick to unlock the truth. There is no fast track.

Instead, we invite all parts into the room. We work with what can be tolerated. We go slowly, building capacity and co-regulation. We track somatic experience, emotional reaction, even subtle physical impulses.

We focus not on the content of trauma, but on its effects, meanings, and the emotional systems around it.

Sometimes, the most important work is asking: What is this part protecting you from feeling?

The River That Runs Through

One of the most powerful metaphors from the workshop was this:

A river runs through it.

Beneath the dissociation, beneath the amnesia and fragmentation, there is often a deeper current. A core self. Something shared across all parts.

That river might be faint, but it flows.

Our job, in part, is to help the client reconnect with that river. To help the system find each other again. Not by force, but by invitation.

And sometimes, even just touching the water—for a second—is a huge success.

A Personal Reflection

In early therapy—as a client—I remember squirming in silence.

I didn’t know where to start, or what might envelop me if I did.

A part of me wanted to mainline into the darkness.

A part had no idea what it even was.

And another worked hard to make sure I didn’t go anywhere near it.

But with time—and a therapist who met me with patience and steadiness—we found a way.

We started at the edges.

We paddled in the shallows.

Over time, we developed a shared language and a kind of torch we could pass between us.

The parts began to trust that light.

They began to see each other.

And that’s the work.

Not forcing a breakthrough.

But gently building the conditions for one.