<![CDATA[Adults born with congenital heart disease face hidden anxiety, PTSD, and cognitive hurdles. See why embedding psychiatry in cardiac care changes outcomes.]]>

Early Intervention to Prevent Development of PTSD in Burn Survivors and Their Caregivers

Conditions: Posttraumatic Stress Disorder; Burns; Traumatic Injury; Acute Stress Disorder; Trauma and Stressor Related Disorders; Trauma and Stress Related Disorders; Stress Disorder; Stress Disorders, Post-Traumatic; Stress Disorders, Traumatic; Stress Disorders, Traumatic, Acute; Relationship, Social

Interventions: Behavioral: Promotion of Emotional Disclosure for Burns (PoED-B); Behavioral: minimally Enhanced Usual Care control (mEUC)

Sponsors: University of Southern California; Los Angeles General Medical Center; National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH)

Not yet recruiting

Testing STAR and TextSTAR: A Randomized Controlled Trial

Conditions: Sexual Violence; Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); Opioid Misuse

Interventions: Behavioral: Skills Training in Active Recovery (STAR) Video; Behavioral: Text Skills Training in Active Recovery (TextSTAR) program

Sponsors: University of Wisconsin, Madison; National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA)

Enrolling by invitation

Centering People, Centering Stories: Folklore as an Unlikely Ally in the OCD Misdiagnosis Crisis

By: Rebecca Bernstein, MA Folklore

The International OCD Foundation’s (IOCDF) recent landmark white paper reveals more than 80% of OCD cases in America remain undiagnosed (International OCD Foundation, 2025). Considering the size of this clinical challenge, it might seem odd to suggest that a small, humanities-based field like folklore— yes, folklore — has any role to play in the solution. As someone who studies OCD personal narratives (stories people tell about their lived experiences), my research suggests otherwise. In a situation that invokes the feeling of all-hands-on-deck, the tools and perspectives of this field may offer more benefit than we might initially give it credit for.

Folklore is the study of informal, creative communication. Dr. Lynn McNeill describes it as anything people “say, do, make, or believe” (McNeill, 2013). Folklore includes everything you’d think of (quilts, traditional music, fairy tales) and a lot of things you wouldn’t (occupational culture, gossip, internet memes.) We find examples of folklore everywhere. It’s in our holidays and our hobbies, our food and our fads, our jokes and our grieving. Folklorists study the infinite ways people express themselves in daily life. This, in turn, helps us better understand the cultural realities in which they live. And because what we “say, do, make, or believe” describes most of human behavior, the folkloric lens can be an indispensable one with which to investigate the world.

The benefit of studying how people express themselves is obvious when we recognize that in mental health, conversation and narrative are the primary tools we use to give and receive care. OCD isn’t just a diagnosis. It’s also a fundamentally creative experience. (Creative things don’t necessarily have to be beautiful, pleasing, or even wanted. They just have to be new and meaningful.) (Dictionary.com, 2023). Although ego-dystonic, extraordinary beliefs and elaborate rituals are hallmark features of OCD. When sufferers discuss their experiences, they are naturally inclined to do so through their own personal and cultural lenses. Therefore, descriptions of OCD vary infinitely. If the issue is our failure to recognize OCD when it presents itself, an approach designed to make sense of something as messy as human expression may offer insights that quantitative research methods still struggle to obtain.

How Folklorists Research

Just like in biomedical research, the research methods folklorists use matter. Our goal is to better understand people and their communities. That means we strategically build relationships, listen deeply, and intentionally embrace the complexity of those we talk to.

When I started researching OCD narratives, I wanted to know: What were the internal realities like for people who lived with this illness? What made their stories distinct? And how might those stories be connected? One of the biggest challenges I faced in my fieldwork was the potential for my participants to self-censor. As someone who also lives with OCD, I knew all too well the role shame and fear could play in the choice to fully share one’s reality with others. Using both field-tested approaches and my own lived knowledge, I conducted interviews with people with OCD, approaching them in a way I hoped would ease interviewees into difficult conversations:

  • I provided anonymity. I held all interviews on Zoom, where participants were free to keep their cameras off. I also assigned each one an alphanumeric signifier (A1, B2, etc.) in my writing.
  • I emphasized the importance of story. Although I asked specific questions, I also allowed participants to go off topic and engage in two-way conversation. The story was the point.
  • I used the “kitchen table” interview method. Based on the work of Carl Lindahl, this method tries to recreate the intimacy of two individuals talking around a kitchen table. It discourages framing the interviewer as an objective party, recognizes storytellers as experts in their own experiences, and suggests that interviewers only ask questions they themselves would be willing to answer (Lindahl, 2012).
  • I disclosed. My choice to openly discuss my own OCD diagnosis with interviewees allowed conversations to proceed with a certain warmth and vulnerability.
  • I emphasized participants’ humanity. I treated each participant as a full individual rather than just a source of information. This meant I worked on a model of enthusiastic consent. It also meant I asked them for feedback on my writing to ensure I portrayed their experiences accurately.
  • I compensated participants well. Each received a $100 gift card.

The Results

The universal theme I discovered during these interviews was a profound concern with social isolation. Every single participant mentioned this issue. Interviewees shared how OCD made it difficult for them to maintain relationships and how challenging it was to hide their illness from others. They also recalled their joy and gratitude when discussing moments in which they felt understood.

Their narratives also contained four other common themes:

1.) Logic and patterns of personal concern. Participants often discussed their particular obsessions and compulsions, and the influence those specific thoughts and behaviors had on their daily lives.

2.) Issues of negotiation. People talked about navigating certain types of conflicts as a result of their illness. These conflicts generally fell into two categories: self-negotiation and existential negotiation. In the first, people struggled with the desire to take their thoughts and urges seriously despite knowing they didn’t make sense. In the second, they wrestled with their relationships to the divine.

3.) Positive approaches to the illness. Many interviewees made a point to mention the silver linings they saw in being sick. They noted how OCD made them safer, more empathetic, or provided them with particular skills. Others discussed productive choices they’d made despite living with such a debilitating condition.

4.) Interactions with medical systems. Participants talked about their experiences as patients. For some, dealing with doctors, therapists, and other health professionals helped them understand their experience or relieved their suffering. For others, these encounters were confusing, unhelpful, or even traumatizing.

It’s important to note these themes represent a truly broad range of content. Not every story included every theme, and within those themes, the specific details I heard varied as much as the individuals themselves.

Implications

Say you were to hear four stories: one about someone’s preferred cleaning routine, one about someone’s waning belief in God, one about a good decision made in a difficult circumstance, and one about a doctor’s visit. It’s unlikely you’d consider these stories connected. And yet the data shows they are. The fact that stories with dramatically different content can reflect the same illness highlights the way OCD can remain elusive and camouflaged.

The problem with recognizing these stories as OCD stories isn’t just the variation in content. It’s also in how others hear them. In folklore, we don’t just study cultural expressions. We also study how they move from person to person. “Tellable narratives” travel easily. Both speakers and listeners understand what a certain type of story should sound like and the meaning it’s supposed to convey. If I tell you a tale about a persecuted young woman who escapes a bad home life and marries a prince, you can probably guess you’ve heard Cinderella. If we’re both excited that she went from rags to riches, we share an understanding that her journey is a positive one. In contrast, an “untellable narrative” hits some kind of barrier. If you’ve never heard Cinderella before or think the stepmother is actually the hero, my meaning in telling you the story gets lost. Untellable narratives can be misinterpreted.

This misalignment between the stories people tell and the ones listeners expect to hear happens all the time. We’ve all said things misunderstood by others. Sometimes this process is harmless; other times it results in difficult consequences. Dr. Kristiana Willsey writes about veterans who censor themselves in front of civilian audiences. Because civilians usually only expect to hear tales of “war heroes” or “PTSD survivors,” veterans often choose not to tell the full and complicated stories of their service experiences (Willsey, 2015). Dr. Amy Shuman and Carol Bohmer discuss the case of rejected asylum seekers. If asylum applicants don’t tell their stories of oppression and escape in a way that fits immigration officials’ expectations of what a traumatic asylum story should look like, their applications get denied (Shuman & Bohmer, 2016). If we consider just how different any two OCD stories can be and add the public assumption that OCD is an illness of specific doings (hand washing, checking locks) rather than tellings, it highlights just how difficult it is for most of these narratives to get heard, and heard correctly.

Patient/practitioner interactions can be particularly vulnerable to this type of miscommunication. The problem with considering OCD as just a medical issue is that most people don’t think of their lives as medical events. Practitioners enter the room ready to make sense of problems in clinical terms. Patients enter with stories. They share their concerns in a way that cannot be easily separated from their personal frames of reference or cultural understandings of life. Practitioners are often taught to mistrust the details that emerge from these narratives, to kindly but efficiently work around them in order to do their jobs. But for patients, these details are how they make meaning. If misdiagnoses also occur during these interactions, it’s worth taking a closer look at what’s being lost in translation.

Folklore ultimately offers the promise of new solutions to old problems. It allows us to reconsider how we listen to patients, collect data, and address communication issues— all clear benefits in the fight for better diagnostic care. It is also equipped to help us make sense out of the lived reality of OCD— perhaps uniquely so. I see folklore as an exciting potential ally to traditional research and clinical spaces. My hope is that this partnership can help us work more effectively toward our common goals: a better understanding of OCD, and quicker ease for its sufferers.

Works Cited

Dictionary.com. (2023). Creativity. In Random House Unabridged Dictionary. Random House, Inc. https://www.dictionary.com/browse/creativity.

International OCD Foundation. (2025). America’s OCD care crisis: National findings on the failure of effective OCD treatment to research patients. International OCD Foundation. https://iocdf.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/Full-Report-Americas-OCD-Care-Crisis-12-9-2025.pdf.

Lindahl, C. (2012). Legends of Hurricane Katrina: The right to be wrong, survivor-to- survivor storytelling, and healing. The Journal of American Folklore, 125 (496), 139–176. https://doi.org/10.5406/jamerfolk.125.496.0139.

McNeill, L. (2013). Folklore rules: A fun, quick, and useful introduction to the field of academic folklore studies. Utah State University Press. https://muse.jhu.edu/book/27822.

Shuman, A. & Bohmer, C. (2016). The stigmatized vernacular: Political asylum and the politics of visibility/recognition. In D. Goldstein & A. Shuman (Eds.), The stigmatized vernacular: Where reflexivity meets untellability. Indiana University Press.

Willsey, K. (2015). Falling out of performance: Pragmatic breakdown in veterans’ storytelling. In T.J. Blank & A. Kitta (Eds.), Diagnosing folklore: Perspectives on disability, health and trauma. University Press of Mississippi.

The post Centering People, Centering Stories: Folklore as an Unlikely Ally in the OCD Misdiagnosis Crisis appeared first on International OCD Foundation.

Revolution’s aftermath: population based cross-sectional study to understand the intergeneration mental health and wellbeing following the 2024 student-led uprising

BackgroundBangladesh was confronted with a nationwide student uprising in July 2024, that exposed both participants and observers to widespread unrest and traumatic events. To better understand the kind of support the population will need, it is important to understand its immediate impact on mental wellbeing.AimAim was to examine the prevalence of trauma symptoms among the Bangladeshi general population, aged 15+, within three-months following revolution.MethodsThis cross-sectional survey using the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Checklist for DSM-5 (PCL-5, five-point Likert scale), was combined with a one-off online workshop to sensitise this population on mental health, trauma, and resilience. Associations between sociodemographic factors and PCL-5 scores were examined with multiple linear regression (ANOVA/ANCOVA). Probable PTSD (PCL-5 ≥ 31) was assessed using log-binomial regression. We estimated Population Attributable Fractions (PAF), Absolute Risk Reduction (ARR) to estimate the proportion of high PTSD attributable to each exposure, and applied min–max normalisation of Likert scales for cross-item comparison.ResultsMore than half of the surveyed participants (n=207; mean age 27.6 ± 9.7 years; 72% Gen Z) had clinically suggestive PTSD. This was more common among women (53.7%), and respondents from Chattogram (57.4%) and Khulna (66.7%). Adjusted analyses suggested modestly higher prevalence among Millennials (PR 1.23, 95% CI 0.87-1.74). PAF estimates indicated small contributions from age groups (Millennials +6.5%, GenX/Boomers -3.6%), and gender (men -3.1%). Under hypothetical elimination of exposure, absolute PTSD reduction was greatest among Millennials. Symptom clusters varied: women, and older adults showed consistently higher scores, while Gen Z reported more negative thoughts/feelings.ConclusionThe study underscores the potential higher prevalence of probable PTSD following large-scale demonstrations and confrontations, and recommends targeted culturally appropriate mental health interventions. Further research involving a representative sample from the population and longitudinal data is recommended to monitor long-term psychological impacts in Bangladesh.

What Is Traumatic Separation?

You may have a memory of being separated from a parent when you were a child, even just for a few minutes. Maybe you lost them in a crowd or wandered a little too far at the store and felt panicked and afraid.

A moment like this might be among your earliest memories because the feeling was so intense, says Caitlyn Downie, LCSW, the Director of Trauma and Resilience at the Child Mind Institute. That offers some insight into the fear of a child of any age who is separated from a parent or caregiver in a more serious way. The effects of this stress are so powerful they can actually change the way a child develops.

A toddler whose mother goes to prison. A kindergartener whose father is detained and deported. A teen who is placed in foster care. These are a few examples of what experts call traumatic separation, a clinical concept based on the importance of the parent-child bond and the profound effects that can result from breaking it.

What is traumatic separation?

Traumatic separation isn’t a clinical diagnosis, but research shows that it can be profoundly harmful to kids. What makes it traumatic (as opposed to routine partings, like when an adult regularly leaves their child to go to work) is the character of the separation: ones that are sudden, unexpected, or confusing, or those that come about through larger distressing events, like a natural disaster or war. It’s not defined by the time spent apart — both short and long-term separations can be harmful.

Some common examples of separation that can become traumatic include:

  • Parental deportation
  • Immigration (e.g., forced separation at the border)
  • Parental military deployment
  • Parental incarceration
  • Termination of parental rights

Separating from a parent or primary caregiver can be distressing to a child even when it’s deemed necessary for their safety, as in cases where the parent they have been separated from has abused them, says Kimberly Alexander, PsyD, a psychologist at the Child Mind Institute. “There’s still a natural attachment that occurs. And the separation disrupts that relationship, even if it’s for the support and care of the child.”

Why is traumatic separation harmful?

More than eight decades of research has shown the profound developmental importance of the parent-child bond. This is the guiding principle of attachment theory, which was pioneered by a British psychologist who studied children who were evacuated during the Blitz, the aerial bombardment of London in World War II.

Here’s what the research tells us about the harms of traumatic separation:

It can disrupt secure attachment

Think of secure attachment as a “fundamental sense of security and safety” that a child feels with a parent or caregiver, says Dylan Gee, PhD, a psychologist at Yale University who studies how early-life stress affects children’s development.

“Attachment is the lens through which children come to know what they can expect from the world around them,” she explains. “Is this going to be a safe place or a dangerous place? This is foundational to a child’s sense of their ability to navigate the world. Traumatic separation can shatter that sense of safety.”

It can affect neurobiological development

Children’s brains are especially plastic, says Dr. Gee, constantly learning to understand their environment and how to deal with stress. “Trauma that occurs in childhood can be even more consequential than trauma that occurs later in life,” she says, and experiencing these disruptions in childhood can affect the way your brain and body are primed to react to stress later on.

But heightened plasticity is a paradox, she adds. “It confers more vulnerability, but it also confers more potential for resilience — children have heightened potential for supportive intervention and for healing and recovery.”

What do the effects of traumatic separation look like?

There are acute and short-term effects that are common across kids of all ages:

Sleep problems: “It’s often one of the first things that we see: nightmares, trouble falling asleep, or a lot of crying as kids are trying to fall asleep,” Dr. Gee says.

Separation anxiety: This might look like distraction, withdrawal, or clinginess because of fear of being separated from their new caregivers, Dr. Alexander says.

But signs may take weeks or months to show up. Dr. Alexander advises caregivers to consider the child’s baseline — their typical patterns of eating, sleeping, or engaging with others. “If they’re having more trouble with sleep, they’re eating more, eating less, they’re withdrawing or expressing a lot of worried thoughts three or four months later — that’s something worth getting looked at by a clinician,” she says.

Signs of traumatic separation at different ages

“Sometimes people ask, ‘Well, when is separation the most harmful?’ It can be extremely harmful at any age,” Dr. Gee emphasizes. But there are specific signs at different developmental stages:

Infants

Babies may not be as consciously aware of being separated from a parent as older children, “but they’re fundamentally aware that their primary source of regulation and safety is missing,” Dr. Gee says. Because infants are so reliant on caregivers for nurturing and sustenance, the separation “can be experienced as a threat to their survival.” That might look like “crying a lot or becoming withdrawn,” she says. “And at any age we can see intense fear.”

Toddlers and young children (3–6)

Toddlers and young children might become extra clingy with new caregivers or show regressive behaviors like bedwetting or baby talk. Regressive behaviors happen when kids are overwhelmed by stress and can’t express themselves another way, Downie says. “It’s like your nervous system goes kind of haywire,” she explains, “so it uses the body to signal that something is wrong.”

Similarly, kids at this age might act out more, throwing more tantrums, or withdraw. They might develop selective mutism, a condition where kids are too anxious or distressed to speak, even when they want to, in certain situations or with certain people.

School-age children

School-age children might act out or experience separation anxiety. They may also struggle to understand the meaning of the separation, why it happened, or who is at fault for it. Thus, kids at this age are more prone to magical or distorted thinking and feelings of guilt, thinking or saying things like, “I’m the one that caused this” or “This is my fault.”

The weight of these distorted thoughts or other worries, Dr. Alexander says, might make it appear as though a child is struggling to concentrate or that they’re disengaged or distracted. They might withdraw in a group or be averse to stepping outside of their comfort zone.

Children who are school age or older can also experience emotional desensitization — a kind of emptiness of feeling — Downie says, which can look like spikes in irritability, a lack of empathy, not smiling or expressing positive emotions, or an inability to relate to others.

Preteens and teenagers

“I’ve seen teenagers have a lot of mistrust with systems and be very oppositional,” says Downie. “Like, ‘I don’t trust you. I don’t trust my teacher. I don’t trust this child services worker.’” It might make sense that, say, a teen in foster care would be wary of the foster care system. But Downie says it’s often a larger instinct for anger and mistrust, one that extends beyond any specific entity or person.

The teenage years are also when kids are forming their identity, and traumatic separation can fundamentally alter that process. For example, a teen with younger siblings may step into a parent role, taking on new worries and responsibilities. Conversely, teens may become more reckless in a caregiver’s absence, putting them at risk for substance abuse or incarceration.

How to help kids separated from a parent

Adults caring for a child who has been separated from a parent — family members, foster parents, teachers — “can play a profound role in supporting their mental health and resilience,” says Dr. Gee.

Validate feelings

One of the most important things caregivers can do is be present as a child reacts to their experiences, especially if and when scary feelings come up. But be careful not to lead kids or assume they feel a certain way. “You don’t want to make something more distressing to a child if it’s not presenting itself,” says Downie.

If a child expresses guilt, or says something like, “This is my fault,” there are still ways to validate the feeling without endorsing the statement, says Dr. Alexander. You might say something like: “I can understand why that thought comes to mind and how difficult it is to feel that way. When you’re ready, let’s think about other possibilities to this situation.”

Create consistency and stability

One of the hardest things about traumatic separation is the uncertainty — Where did they go? When will they come back? What is happening? Giving kids some sense of consistency and stability can help them feel safe despite the unknowns. So as much as possible, help them stick to any routines: going to school, seeing friends, doing activities they enjoy.

Dr. Alexander advises focusing on things you can control — for example, shielding kids from potentially worrying discussions in a family where a parent has been deported.

“There would likely be a lot of conversations in the home about the situation, maybe a lot of watching the news, maybe making a lot of phone calls to attorneys,” she explains. “So where are you having those conversations, and can you have them in an area or at a time of day where your kid isn’t overhearing the discussions out of context?”

For young kids, it might be as simple as asking them to play in their room. For teens, it might be better to have certain conversations when they are out of the house and invite them to participate directly in others.

Be honest but reassuring

Caregivers might not have all the answers — like knowing when a child’s parent is coming back — but they can create a sense of consistency and stability in how they respond to kids’ questions, too.

Avoid undue reassurance (“Everything is going to be fine”) or over-promising (“They’ll be back in two weeks”) by focusing on what kids can expect, says Dr. Gee. For example: “What I can tell you is that I’m here for you, and I’m going to be with you until he’s back,” or “You’re safe with me, and I’m going to stay with you through this really hard time.”

Model handling stress

Children are sensitive to tone, Dr. Alexander says. “So, if you’re having really big emotions that are out of context for a child, the child is looking at these emotions and trying to understand what’s happening. ‘Am I in danger in this specific moment?’”

She says it helps to have conversations about these moments, especially with younger kids. “Like, ‘I know you noticed mommy crying. We’re feeling really big feelings, and this is how we’re going to deal with those big feelings. I’m going to take a break. I’m going to get a sip of water. Whenever you’re having big feelings, I want you to let me know so that I can help you try doing the same things,’” Dr. Alexander says, explaining the importance of naming the emotion and then teaching kids that there are ways of dealing with it.

Long-term risks of traumatic separation

The effects of traumatic separation can persist even after a child and their caregiver are reunited. Traumatic separation, like other adverse childhood experiences, puts kids at risk for a host of long-term medical and mental health conditions, including depression, anxiety, attention issues, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

But Downie notes that not everyone who experiences traumatic separation develops PTSD. “Just because someone’s experiencing trauma now doesn’t mean that it’s going to become a PTSD diagnosis,” she says. “A lot of the behaviors that we’re talking about are normal and expected. There’s an adjustment period when a separation happens.” But if symptoms persist or escalate over several months, a child may need more serious support.

Treatment for a trauma diagnosis

While not every child who experiences a separation may receive a trauma diagnosis or require treatment, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) — and the more specific trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapy (TF-CBT) — is the “gold standard,” says Downie. TF-CBT is specifically for children experiencing trauma-related symptoms. An important component of TF-CBT is creating a trauma narrative, where kids create a story about what happened to help them process it. “But if you have a child who is not ready to process and integrate that trauma, you can’t force the pacing of the treatment,” she says.

In short, a good clinician will follow a child’s lead — even if that means just sitting in the same room with them to build trust. “People really need to feel like they’re being heard and that they can trust someone,” Downie says. Which is why a supportive caregiver or trusted adult can make a big difference.

“If people can take anything away from this, it’s that you want to make kids understand that that they’re not responsible for what’s happened and that people do care about them,” Downie says. “Kids are really resilient, and they can adapt in a good-enough environment. They don’t have to have everything to be successful.”

The post What Is Traumatic Separation? appeared first on Child Mind Institute.

<![CDATA[Psilocybin therapy shows fast, lasting relief for depression; clinicians discuss trial hurdles and emerging promise for PTSD and addiction in this podcast.]]>