We all dissociate. We plan our weddings while staring out at our backyards during breakfast. We get in our cars after a long day of work and somehow float home. We scroll through dozens of TikToks and don't realize hours have passed.

But not everyone dissociates the same way. Some have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), a condition when someone has undergone such severe trauma during childhood that the mind creates multiple selves, or "alters," to help them function throughout the day.

It's a condition long-exploited in media. Conniving, cantankerous alters slip in and out and wreak havoc on loved ones by stealing babies and locking relatives in basements. And that's just one plot on soap opera "One Life to Live," which ended its run on ABC in 2013.

Bree Williamson remembers playing Jessica Buchanan, one of the characters struggling with DID, on "One Life to Live" in the early aughts and 2010s. But was it true to the lived experience of someone with DID?

Not exactly. Media such as soap operas, films like "Sybil" and TV dramas like "The Crowded Room" typically present DID as something to be feared, which can contribute to stigma. And members of the community are speaking up to stop the misinformation.

Williamson, for her part, has reflected a lot on her role in "One Life to Live." She's since become a trauma therapist. "I feel bad and I'm really sorry for anybody that my (storyline) might have hurt or made to feel marginalized," she says. "It was never my intention. I tried to play her with the utmost respect that I thought the story deserved."

Now, the CBS soap "The Young and the Restless" has a DID plot of its own featuring character Ashley Abbott (Eileen Davidson). "Ms. Abbott, the first one we’ve met, she’s kind of a ball-breaker, like a femme fatale. But you see her kind of metamorphose into somebody who’s scary,” Davidson told TODAY, describing one of Ashley's alters.

"As we formulated the story, the writers did a lot of research into DID," Josh Griffith, executive producer and head writer of “The Young and The Restless,” told USA TODAY in a statement. They investigated case files of those with DID. “We strive to be realistic as well as dramatic in our depiction of psychological and emotional issues." That said, they are open to feedback from the community.

Though media portrayals often focus on the attention-grabbing existence of alters, it's important to keep in mind that in real life those with DID are almost always people who suffered extreme, horrific childhood abuse.

"Let's build on the sympathy and let people know, like look at these courageous folks that survived this (horror) that most people would have probably not survived," says Jaime Pollack, who has DID and founded the nonprofit An Infinite Mind. "And their brain had this beautiful, genius way of making them survive this unsurvivable childhood."

But first: What is dissociative identity disorder?

DID refers to someone who's suffered ongoing complex trauma – think child neglect, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, etc. – who fails to undergo regular identity development.

In some cases, "the people who are supposed to take care of the child are also the people who hurt the child," says Rainbow Edgar, a psychotherapist living with DID and vice president of the nonprofit Multiplied by One. "Unable to reconcile these opposing truths, the mind develops multiple selves with different understandings of the world."

Someone living with DID may refer to themselves as a "system" made up of different parts or alters. For some, they add up to dozens, even hundreds, with different names, ages, races, and genders. People with DID can dissociate for a few minutes, but sometimes it could be days to weeks.

Vocal tonality, pitch and range can certainly shift, too, according to Kelly Caniglia, a licensed mental health counselor who treats DID patients, and An Infinite Mind's director of conferences and events. Some alters have accents and speak other languages; others might speak in a higher-pitched voice. But the goal of an alter is to fly under the radar and sound as much like the person (who they're typically known by) as possible.

It's not as uncommon as you might think: 1.5% of the population is living with DID, which entered the "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders" in the 1980s. More than bipolar disorder, more than schizophrenia, according to Caniglia. Therapists ask specific questions for screening and diagnosis.

No medication exists to treat DID, though some may seek medication for depression or anxiety related to post-traumatic stress disorder. Traditional talk therapy combined with somatic therapies like eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) could help someone manage their DID.

Everyone's stories are different – and so are their therapies.

'My parts serve a purpose of keeping me alive'

"You're talking to the whole system today."

Adrian Fletcher was nervous before starting this interview. She had to get in the shower, get ready and present the face of who everybody thinks she is – psychologist, speaker and consultant – but that was causing stress and anxiety.

She is a childhood trafficking survivor who experienced ritual, cult-like abuse. A therapist told her she had DID in 2012 while she was studying to be a therapist herself.

She didn't believe it, so she started again with a different therapist. Although she was diagnosed with other disorders – PTSD and complex PTSD – the DID wasn't discovered again for several years. After her mother died of pancreatic cancer in 2018, Fletcher's alters then started showing up in therapy – her mother's death gave her system permission to reveal truths about her childhood. She was ready to accept it at age 37.

She had always felt a bit unusual. Somebody might text her, but she might not recognize the name. The truth: Her parts had different relationships and almost different lifestyles under one umbrella of the name Adrian. They started coming forward more with their names and their ages. At first, she thought she had three parts. Then eight, 15 and 22-plus. To the global DID community today, she's known as The Adrienne & Co. System.

"Most of the identities are very separate, and they have different friends and preferences, everything down from food preferences to different ways they engage in therapy," she says. "And it's been a lot to live with."

That said, the differences aren't always obvious. "Individuals with DID don't switch selves with full outfit and hair transformations," says licensed marriage and family therapist Katie Keech (who also lives with DID), referencing the condition depicted on the TV show "The United States of Tara," which otherwise offered more realistic representation with a larger pop culture reach.

Some parts of Fletcher's don't like to speak at all.

"If you were interviewing Amanda, she's very unlikely to tell you very much," Fletcher says. "She might look at you and smile. But she doesn't have the cognitive ability, like the adult parts of me to be able to tell you, but she could draw out her story."

Another part, Nancy, was the one who gave an interview to the LA Times in October, the face behind formal Dr. Fletcher: Workaholic, wife, caretaker, incredible therapist. Suit and glasses all the time. Nancy has since fused to Adrian's system, i.e., integrated into her whole being.

"My parts serve a purpose of keeping me alive, and I love them all," she says. "And as they grow and evolve, if they start to integrate, that's OK with me. But I want it to be a process that is organic and not forced by anybody."

When she's not stressed, her amnesia lessens. Right now she's going through a divorce, which is stressful for anyone, not just those with DID.

"It's not the DID that's the problem," she explains. "It's the trauma that has occurred, that's the problem. And then the ongoing stigma in the world."

Fletcher tears up when asked about her wardrobe for the day. People think they can see DID. She says she probably sounds normal and educated. But in the background, her parts are talking.

It was important to her alters that she wears a rainbow Care Bear hat and a Woodstock T-shirt. A way for parts to – even subtly – represent themselves.

Important:A lot of people talk about 'complex trauma.' What does it mean?

'This was something I could live with'

Melissa Parker marvels at how trees grow in the depths of wilderness. Even with minimal access to light in some forests.

"They all find a way to grow," the 50-year-old licensed mental health counselor says. To Parker, the vegetation represents DID. "The trees have an intelligence where they figure out how not only they can get their needs met, but the other trees can too. Maybe they'll grow a little crooked or maybe they'll grow around each other in a very particular way."

Parker, who uses they/them pronouns, received their diagnosis 18 years ago in their 30s after "some unusual experiences with reality." "I was having a lot of flashbacks, a lot of intrusive thoughts and memories and feelings."

When a clinician first said they had DID – after running through a barrage of assessment questions – Parker balked. "I did what any sane person would do. I got rid of the therapist." But when another therapist came to the same conclusion, they couldn't run any longer.

The diagnosis sounded like the worst thing that could possibly happen. "Sybil" flashed before their eyes.

"I can't be just a total crazy person. And if I have DID, I'm a total crazy person," Parker says.

Reeling from their diagnosis, they were feeling depressed and suicidal. But they later "I realized that while this was serious and intense, it also wasn't all that terrible in its own way, that this was something I could live with."

Now Parker practices ketamine-assisted psychotherapy for trauma right outside of Boston; most of their clients have dissociative identities and others have complex trauma, like Parker.

Think of DID as less like transforming into a different person and more like shifting moods. "There's this idea that it's always so dramatic or so theatrical or so interesting," Parker says, "and it's really not." Parker might feel dizziness or blurriness when shifting, followed by a sharpening or focus. Like putting on glasses.

Dissociation is on a spectrum, with DID at the top of the spectrum. There is a genetic marker for whether a person can actually reach that top of the spectrum, according to Caniglia.

Parker would like to see more accurate media representation and referenced the short film "Petals of a Rose" as a solid example, where a woman with DID talks with several of her alters while trying to enjoy a date, only to be confronted with her trauma head-on.

Parker asks: "Does it have to be lurid? Does it have to be sensationalized?"

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Surviving the unsurvivable childhood

Jaime Pollack experienced all kinds of abuse: physical, emotional, sexual, you name it. And at 27, she learned her trauma led to a DID diagnosis. But not before a decade of therapy, where no one really knew what was going on with her. They kept pegging her as schizophrenic because she'd say she was hearing voices, and she found it difficult to connect and bond with people. She lost track of time and found items in her house that were moved or weren't hers. Did someone else have a key to her apartment? Therapists couldn't see the truth until 2003.

She met relief – but also reality.

"I had nowhere to go and nowhere to turn," she says. "The stigma and the fear around it really made it so, so hard to accept."

Pollack has six parts now, though when she started therapy had 15. Some parts were just emotional, and others interacted with the outside world, like her work self and social self.

Real-life DID is boring and way more subtle than you see in media, she says. "Anyone watching wouldn't even know it's happening," she says. The condition often goes unnoticed on purpose: So you can go through life acting like nothing happened to you. Her nonprofit, An Infinite Mind, offers support to those living with dissociative disorders, and their loved ones.

But overall, she suggests media "don't exaggerate it so much that it makes us look like bad people." They're evidently much more.

If you or someone you know may be struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can call 988 any time day or night, or chat online. Crisis Text Line also provides free, 24/7, confidential support via text message to people in crisis when they dial 741741.