Understanding My Art Through OSDD-1
Because I talk a lot about this as a lived experience on my website, this page will help you understand anything else you read when dissociative traits are mentioned. Please don’t mistake it as “just me being an artist.” This is not something I chose to identify with—it is what is happening to us.
What People Think They Know About DID
Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is often misunderstood. Many people only know it through movies where it’s portrayed as “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”—a split between a “good self” and an “evil self.” This is not only inaccurate but damaging. In reality, dissociative disorders don’t follow that script. A system can have many parts (sometimes called alters), and those parts can all be law-abiding, ordinary, even gentle. Some may hold trauma or carry difficult emotions, but they are not caricatures of villains and heroes.
What Is OSDD-1?
OSDD-1 (Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder, subtype 1) is closely related to DID. Both involve having distinct parts of self, but OSDD-1 doesn’t always present with the same clear separations or memory gaps people expect when they think of DID. In OSDD-1, the parts are very real and distinct, but the lines between them can feel blurred, and the experience is often less visible to the outside world.
How Dissociation Develops
Dissociative disorders often begin in childhood when the mind is still developing. If a child experiences repeated trauma—whether abuse, neglect, or overwhelming events—the mind adapts in order to survive. Instead of processing everything as a single, unified self, the child’s mind creates separate “parts” to hold different memories, feelings, or responsibilities.
This splitting is not weakness; it’s a powerful coping mechanism. It allows the child to move forward in life, function day-to-day, and still keep the trauma contained. Over time, those coping mechanisms solidify, and the parts become more distinct, each carrying their own history, preferences, and ways of experiencing the world.
For all of us, dissociation wasn’t a choice—it was the only way to keep living.
How We Live With OSDD-1
I live with OSDD-1.
For me, that means I front (take care of life on the outside) about 90% of the time. I’m something like the “house mother” of our system, making sure daily life stays on track. Jade is the artist, and she carries many of the triggers and trauma. Because of that, she doesn’t front often, but her influence merges with me, and her presence comes through strongly in our art. Other parts step forward to take care of us when trauma overwhelms me. We work as a system, even if the outside world only sees “me.”
The Medical Divide
This condition is recognized in the mental health field, but here’s the truth: even though it’s documented, there is still widespread misunderstanding and denial. About half of mental health professionals don’t believe in dissociative disorders at all. Those who do believe often try to fit it into a framework that doesn’t match what we actually experience. They may call it “rare,” but it isn’t. It’s under-recognized because education is poor, treatment is fragmented, and many people who live with it remain undiagnosed—or they self-diagnose after finding community online, because they’ve been dismissed or misdiagnosed by professionals.
My Experience With Therapy and Diagnosis
I know this reality firsthand. I have both a psychiatrist and a therapist. I’ve had several therapists over time, not by choice, but because of changes in organizations or instability on their end.
My psychiatrist doesn’t believe in dissociative disorders and has labeled me with borderline personality disorder, which I believe is a misdiagnosis. My therapist, from a different organization, does recognize dissociation and is open-minded in working with us. Still, even she doesn’t fully understand. From her perspective, “everyone has parts”—and yes, that’s true. Everyone has sides of themselves. But dissociation is not just about having sides. For people without a dissociative disorder, those sides are still cohesive. They all feel like “me.”
The Difference in Lived Experience
For us, the difference is profound. Our parts have their own histories, preferences, and perspectives. One part may love someone deeply, while another may dislike that same person. One may feel safe, while another is caught in fear. We can have different preferences (like a favorite color), opinions, and beliefs. Yes, even different religious beliefs. We can agree and disagree, never from the same perspective. We don’t feel unified in the way non-dissociative people do. That is the lived difference, and it’s hard for many clinicians to grasp because they try to measure it against their own inner experience.
Why Art Matters So Much
Because of that misunderstanding, many of us live without the support we need. Even with professionals, I often feel alone in this. Art becomes more than expression—it becomes survival, healing, and communication. It’s the way Jade speaks, the way trauma finds shape, and the way our system works toward wholeness even in a world that doesn’t know how to hold us.
My art is not simply creative work. It is the language of our healing, the bridge between parts, and the testimony of a life lived in fragments that still create something whole when put to canvas, and making art from a different perspective of wholeness.
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