When PDAers become animals

We spend so much time demonising the creative, magical ways in which the human brain (and consciousness) preserves a person’s sanity. Not only do we overlook this, we  actually disrespect it.

I am a person who is multiple. This means I have a beautiful and complex system within that supported me to survive what were truly unsurvivable circumstances; and this beautiful system continues to support me to move through life today.

I’m also a PDAer, and I’m regularly asked what to do about PDA children who become animals, or other beings (typically anything other than human) and live as such from dawn to dusk.

We’re encouraged to want to rip people who use exceptionally creative ways out of such positions and return them to what we term reality, or ‘presence’. Seldom do we engage with the inquiry, or become curious about the function of such a process and how it might be better viewed as a bridge, as opposed to a barrier.

When a PDA child becomes an animal, something remarkable is happening.

While the child reengineers their being and doing; at times, their identity, to allow their nervous system to survive and function, we worry that they are simply escaping reality. But at its core, animal-being is an act of profound self protection, deep self awareness and inherent wisdom.

Being human, for many PDA children, comes with relentless demand: to perform, to comply, to explain, to regulate emotions in ways their nervous system simply cannot sustain. Animals are not expected to justify themselves. They are allowed to exist without apology.

By becoming an animal, the child steps out of a role that feels chronically unsafe and into one where being is enough. This is not solely and simply avoidance. It is many things.

It is relief. It is an asking, or an offering, to be truly witnessed - seen. Some might say a ‘test’ of sorts. “Here, adult. See me now. See me, if you can, as I am.”

Animal-being is regulating. Animals move, stretch, curl, pace, hide, stim, vocalise. When a child inhabits an animal body, they are organising their nervous system through sensation and movement, accessing regulation from the bottom up rather than being asked to control themselves from the top down. Many animals command respect for their beauty alone; for their leadership and natural wisdom, not designed by humans. There is a certain mystery held by the animal when the two species (animal and human) connect, and for those true animal lovers, we see our role as humans having a responsibility to make the leaps - to learn, to listen, to notice, to pay attention and to accept and respect the animal.

Autonomy and sovereignty becomes possible and accessible. Animals cannot be morally coerced. They do not “should.” They do not OWE eye contact, conversation, or productivity. In particular, cats. That good ole saying “Dogs have masters, cats have staff” comes to mind.

For a PDA child whose autonomy has been repeatedly overridden, becoming an animal restores agency without conflict. It is a dignified, non-confrontational way to say *no*.

Animal-being is often a bridge *to* relationship, not away from it. When adults meet the animal with curiosity rather than fear, connection becomes safer. Play emerges. Trust grows. The child learns they CAN exist as they are, and the adult will still stay with them.

Safety is what creates the optimal environment and circumstances for considering and moving gently out of one's comfort zone and into being able to challenge oneself.

Gently, gently. As we would with an animal, so it is with a child. Gently, gently.

What we readily overlook is the irony of an adult asking whether a four year old child pretending to be a cat will still be a cat in their adult years. When I hear this question, I often wonder who truly needs support to be present, here and now.

The child is being honest. Honest about their avoidance. Honest about their challenges. Honest about their best attempt to make an earnest go of being in this world despite the impossible demands placed upon them..by being a cat. Or a dog. Or a werewolf.

“I can’t eat my breakfast because cats don’t use cutlery”, “I can’t go to school because giraffes don’t ride in cars” may seem unsophisticated to adults, but the focus might be best placed with the unavoidable fact that the child is offering some truth about their real challenges - eating, school. Clues.

Adults, however, often lack even this honesty. We live in the future. We project our fears forward. We pathologise what we do not understand and overlook what is real and true right now.

Noticing and accepting a child’s best means of coping and ‘being with’ (aka REGULATING!) allows us to work with their own internal wisdom and strength. Ripping a child away from their imagination, from their creativity, from their ability and their best trying to be here, now, is the very thing that may create further panicked attempts that arise from a nervous system stuck in threat response such as maladaptive dissociation or internal chaos, or other means of TRUE escape that come later in life such as addiction, codependency and more.

The child is here. The cat, the werewolf, the beluga whale is here. The nervous system is communicating clearly.

Perhaps presence is not something the child needs to learn, but something we adults would do well to lean into.

Adults - parents and carers know the slow burn of pressure to have our children conform; placed on us by other adults. This experience gives a fraction of insight into what pressures our children contend with.

Our children, especially our PDA children, have so much to teach us about true embodiment and presence. Finding our way back to our own creativity, our own imagination and our own internal liberation carves a path back to our connection with not only our children, but with ourselves.

And, as far as 'dissociation' is concerned, let's begin by addressing collective dissociation by society at large before vilifying survival.

KF