[T]here were many times when my head felt like it contained a packed coffee shop where everyone is talking at once. I couldn’t tell what was being said; I just heard voices talking.Susan
I will give you a few highlights of [my alters].
Fatigue:She carried the energy of fatigue for me that permitted the rest of me to continue my drive toward perfection in the midst of such inner turmoil. "There are several by now who hold this, in layers," she explained. "We’ve been filling up with fatigue for a long time–like the Painholders, since childhood. Besides performing physical activities of the body, other parts that run mental or emotional processes also create fatigue–Hypervigilance and Judgment, for example–and this fatigue is also stored here."
Guilt:An ageless male, reddish-blackish energy, this one said, "You can call me Satan." It was his job to pass on the teachings of guilt to assure that nobody broke through to reality. He popped up whenever strong alters–especially Anger–came forward.
"This keeps them denied in expression, thereby keeping them underground,
thereby keeping them intact."
He also created double binds; e.g., guilt about anger and guilt about passivity. "She’s damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t. I get her coming and going." A core negative belief was that guilt is good; guilt guides one to heaven. –Dixie
...by September 1990, it became evident to him [Ron, my therapist] that MPD [Multiple Personality Disorder] was the only diagnosis that fit. I was losing time more frequently and I noticed these times were often preceded by feelings of numbness in my face, followed by sensations similar to being on hard narcotic drugs. Although I seemed to go unconscious, my friends would tell me about all the things we had done together. Consequently, Ron put me in hypnosis and asked me again if anyone knew what was going on with me. This time his question was returned by a distinctly male voice that said, "What the fuck are you in here bothering me again for? I told you in February, NO!..." The voice then continued with numerous other obscenities. At the end of my session, Ron told me what had happened. When I didn’t believe him, he played back the tape. I was so flooded with alien emotions that I felt as if I was going to short circuit. I demanded that he shut it off! I refused to believe that this could be happening and left his office in a state of confusion. However, I had heard voices inside my head–not audible to my physical ears–ever since I could remember. I had never told anyone for fear they would think I was crazy, but there were many times when my head felt like it contained a packed coffee shop where everyone is talking at once. I couldn’t tell what was being said; I just heard voices talking. The chaos was unnerving, like I couldn’t escape or get any privacy. Sometimes it even felt like there was a full scale medieval battle going on inside my head, complete with clanging swords, falling horses, shouting, and painful moans from the wounded. Finding out I had MPD, finally furnished me an explanation –Susan
The next thing I recall was finding myself in Tricia’s office. It was dark outside. They told me I had been sitting in my rocking chair with my baby-doll for three days. This was the first occurrence of losing time... I was also told about the personalities that had exposed themselves... Connie and Anna took most of the physical and sexual abuse as well as the abandonment and fear when my father would leave. That night Tricia also met Elizabeth, my spiritual self, and Tootie, my first alter. All of these personality states were full alters, so they had a variety of emotions as well as experiences. –Carol
What was it like to have sixteen separate personalities, and numerous fragments, in my one body? Secretive. There were many dark spaces that robbed me of depth; I was two-dimensional. I always felt like an outsider, an observer. I was extremely guarded because I was always afraid I might say the wrong thing, even though I had no idea what the "wrong thing" might be. My life was full of secrets…cast in darkness. Even on the brightest day my soul was captured, like a caterpillar, in a dark cocoon, and I was kept in the larval stage of imprisoned childhood. All of this felt normal. It was me. –Terry
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Document last updated on 10/01/99-11:28:32.