Trauma: the Death of Space and Time
Vladimir Nemet
“Man can no more survive psychologically in a psychological milieu that does not respond empathetically to him, than he can survive physically in an atmosphere that contains no oxygen.”
H. Kohut, How Does Analysis Cure?
Introduction
For a person who experiences trauma, the world suddenly contracts and loses its familiar contours. Time compresses into a tense, almost impenetrable moment – seconds stretch endlessly, as if the inner clock has stopped. Space tightens, walls draw closer, and the horizon vanishes; places that were once open and safe now seem unbearably distant or oppressively confined. One could say that time and space have become inaccessible, dead.
Yet the deepest experience of trauma is the loss of Otherness. There is no one left in the whole universe. Only I remain, immersed in the eternal here-and-now. You disappear, leaving the subject alone in the silence of their own consciousness. Loss of the Other is the heaviest consequence of the collapse of time and space.
In my theory of parallel identities, space and time are not merely external frameworks; they serve a vital purpose as carriers of self. Space and time are the means through which I and You meet, touch, and merge into the unified whole we call personality. Every moment, every opportunity for connection, shapes this inner space and its flow through time, creating a dynamic network of parallel identities, where fragmentation and continuity intertwine. When space and time contract in traumatic experience, this flow stops – the connection between I and You disappears, and the whole temporarily scatters, suspended in tense anticipation of reunion.
Space and time are not objective entities; they exist solely through the perspective of the observer. Without an observer, time and space collapse into themselves and cease to exist. Modern quantum physics shows that measurement outcomes depend on the observer’s perspective. For example, we cannot simultaneously know both the position and velocity of a particle, as stated by Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. In this sense, time and space are not exalted metaphysical entities; they are the very fabric woven by human consciousness.
In this text, I aim to explain the emergence of space and time and the way they shape the encounter between I and You – how they constitute the intersubjective field that we also call consciousness.
The Meaning and Purpose of Time and Space
According to the theory of parallel identities, consciousness emerges in the interplay of two opposing perspectives – the meeting of I and You. This is the encounter of the observed and the observer, each defining, shaping, and recognizing the other. But how can such a meeting occur?
It begins with the experience of primordial unity – the oceanic feeling born from the oneness of mother and child. But experience of oneness is still far from consciousness. This mother-child unity must be divided into two distinct beings, and here space emerges. With the cutting of the umbilical cord, mother and child are no longer one; they are two, and between them lies space – the first threshold of relational separation, the stage upon which encounters may unfold. Two perspectives are born.
Yet separation alone is not enough. Consciousness cannot fully inhabit both perspectives simultaneously; it cannot be I and You at once. Without temporal alternation, there is only I or only You. Time emerges as the medium that allows perspectives to alternate, touch, and respond to each other. First I, then You, then I again – in this rhythmic flow, relational connection and consciousness come into being.
Space allows the existence of distinct beings; time allows them to meet. Together, they form the dimensions through which I and You can encounter, define, and transform one another. Without space, we would remain fused in unity; without time, our perspectives would remain isolated. Space and time are not mere backdrops; they are the essential fabric of relational existence, the pulse of the intersubjective field we call consciousness.
Similarly, Jacques Derrida introduces the concept of différance, which denotes the process by which meaning is always deferred and distinguished from full presence. He also introduces the concept of the Trace of the Other, showing that the presence of the self is always marked by the absence of the other. Building on this, in the framework of parallel identities, I and You are never fully present at the same time; instead, the encounter unfolds gradually, “little by little,” through temporal alternation and spatial distance. It is precisely through this deferral, difference, and the Trace of the Other that a genuine relationship emerges, where each perspective—though never simultaneous—contributes to the realization of the encounter.
Trauma as the Death of Time and Space
A fifteen-year-old girl hides with her parents in the basement as the enemy approaches their house. Shells are falling; the sound of gunfire grows ever closer. Yet there is still a sense of safety — her parents are there. Their presence shapes space; their voices give time its rhythm. As long as she can see and hear them, the world has structure and meaning.
Then — an explosion, smoke, silence. The girl wakes, but her parents are gone. No voice, no gaze, no one to speak her name.
In that moment, she loses more than her parents. She loses all sense of orientation in the world, no longer knowing where she is or when she exists. Time ceases to flow because there is no one to mark the difference between “before” and “after.” Space collapses because there are no relationships to give it meaning. The world becomes flat, without distance, without horizon. She does not know whether it is morning or evening, yesterday or tomorrow — everything contracts into a single, frozen here-and-now that does not pass.
This example illustrates that trauma is not merely the loss of another person. It is the loss of the very dimensions that make the experience of life possible. Time and space are not neutral backgrounds of consciousness — they arise from the relationship between I and You. They exist only as long as there is an exchange of gazes, as long as there is an Other who bears witness to my existence. When that gaze disappears, when the Other no longer affirms my being, the structure of consciousness collapses.
Trauma is, at its core, an inexpressible disappointment in the Other — in the observer who was supposed to hold the world together. When that relationship disappears, the subject withdraws into itself, forced to determine and designate itself.
The young girl becomes her own observer, the one who marks herself.
In that moment, time and space turn into enemies. They become a reminder that “out there” there is no one, that the world has been left without Otherness. The person becomes self-sufficient, yet this self-sufficiency is not life — it is mere survival.
The signifier that once came from outside now circulates within a closed system. Everything compresses into a consciousness that has nowhere to flow. Space and time, whose meaning once lay in movement between I and You, become redundant.
Trauma is therefore the death of time and space — the death of relational possibility, the compression of consciousness into a point of self-reference, into an infinite here-and-now.
Rebirth of Time and Space
We wonder what had become of the girl I mentioned earlier. For years, she lived in the frozen here-and-now of trauma, where days and nights stood together, and space was flat and without horizon. She dwelled in a world of her own reflections. Over time, she had tried various therapies based on advice and behavior change, but without success. She was always asked to adapt, to change, to be someone else.
In contrast, the girl sought to be discovered and recognized. This recognition could not be superficial or attainable by reason alone. Plain empathy was not enough. She needed someone who could give up themselves and become her totally, even for a moment. Only then would her resistances soften; only then would the world no longer feel empty.
Fortunately, she met a young analyst who, by some miracle, carried a wound similar to her own. His parents had also disappeared one day, suddenly and without warning. He knew well what the girl needed: someone who could set aside their own I and be the Other. He did so, becoming a perfect mirror of her personality, proof that out there someone witnessed her existence.
Years passed before the girl gradually built trust, before her fear that the analyst too might suddenly vanish faded. Yet he was always there — available, safe, reliable. Over time, the girl learned to rely on his presence. She could finally let go of holding herself together, of determining and designating herself. No longer did she have to be her own mirror.
This was no longer necessary, for she had discovered Otherness capable of seeing.
Through this relationship, the dimensions of time and space reemerged. Moments began to flow, space expanded, and horizons and distances felt real. The world was no longer flat and frozen — it once again lived in the exchange of I and You, through the presence of the Other and the affirmation of her own existence.
Conclusion
Trauma ruptures the dimensions that sustain relational existence, compressing consciousness into an frozen here-and-now. Yet, through the presence of the Other, these dimensions can be reborn. The analyst, by embodying the Other and reflecting the subject, restores the flow of time and space, allowing the exchange between I and You to resume.
Ultimately, the recovery of relational experience demonstrates that trauma is not final. Through Otherness, the intersubjective field is reconstituted, time flows, space opens, and the subject reclaims their existence in a world of relational possibility.
Literature
- Atwood, G. E., & Stolorow, R. D. (2023). Emotional trauma and the fragilification of being: Traumatic loss strips the world of substance and solidity. Trauma Psychology News
- Buber, M. (2008). I and thou. Howard Books. (Original work published 1923)
- Derrida, J. (1967). Of grammatology (G. C. Spivak, Trans.). Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. (Original work published 1967)
- Kohut, H. (1984). How does analysis cure? University of Chicago Press.
