Healing dissociation is an odd thing. You kind of merge into and out of “reality”, which is to say a sense of connection with, of participation with, the present, the past, and the future. You really have none of those when you are gone.
I pendulate back and forth, taking small sips. Progress seems to be happening. And it occurs to me that I at least–but I suspect most of us–are deeply fixed in the middles of our being, and not open to qualitative growth for most of our lives, which is why the metaphor of the child is so apt.