Accepting a Diagnose of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID)

See my last post, Do People with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) Know That They Have It? for the first part of the story.

For the next two weeks, I was constantly p@$$ed off. I was so angry (hence the name “Irate”), but none of it made any sense. I opened a dialogue with that part, which is how I learned the part’s name. “We” would have conversations in my head. I would think a question, and then I would “hear” a “loud thought” inside of my head that did not originate from me. It was really bizarre. I was so certain that I had never been abused that I was pretty certain that my sanity was snapping.

I had to accept it, though – I had an alter part. There was no denying it. The question I had was what to do about it. I certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone about it.

I did some online research and learned about dissociation. I then found a book in my local library about dissociation called The Myth of Sanity by Martha Stout. Before reading that book, I didn’t believe I could possibly have DID because I did not do all of the “crazy stuff” that Sybil, Eve, and Truddi did. However, as I read the book, I saw myself in every page and in every patient.

The book was clear that a person must experience severe and ongoing trauma at a young age in order to split off an alter part. I was perplexed because I “knew” that I was a virgin until my husband. I called my sister and asked if she had any memories of me being sexually abused as a child. She replied, “I have always had a bad feeling about mom.” In that instant, I recovered my first repressed memory. I could feel my body being violated, and I knew in the deepest part of myself that my mother had, in fact, sexually abused me.

I also related to the feelings of dissociation described in that book. I would frequently feel lightheaded around my mother. I chalked it up to being tired. I would then “forget” the specifics of the visit. I once drove four hours in the car with her. When I got home, I could not remember one thing we talked about, even though we talked the entire time. I had to face the reality that I had been abused and that I had an alter part (I had hundreds more but did not know it yet).

To be continued…

Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt

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