My Inner World: My Life with Dissociative Identity Disorder

Before I was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, I was unsure of what was happening to me. It was like something foreign was happening.  When I was 17, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which, many years later, was changed to bipolar disorder with psychotic features. When I was 19, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, which devastated me, given that it meant a life with the stigma of that disorder.  It was a life sentence of chaos. While I knew I had symptoms of both diagnoses, I knew they didn’t completely cover what I was experiencing.

The primary symptom that I presented with was frequent lost time, lasting anywhere from a few days to several months, and even years. I would wake up, and it would be a different month or a different year. I had no recollection of the time I had lost. I wasn’t aware that I was engaged to a boy at 19, confused because I knew I was a lesbian. I woke up just as the relationship ended because he found out I was a lesbian.  Other symptoms include flashbacks, nightmares, extreme anxiety, panic, and unhealthy eating habits.

There are more time losses than I can count throughout my life. I vaguely remember moving from place to place, renting rooms from different people. I can’t remember their names or what happened to cause another move. Since my healing, I know one of the moves was due to being gang raped in a park at night, but I have no recollection of those details.

I don’t remember precisely when or what happened, but by the time I was 21, I got an approval letter for disability, which saved my life because I was completely unable to hold down a job. I had tried different jobs, but they never lasted more than three months. I was frequently hospitalized, which affected my ability to work.

I knew significant time loss, like I had, didn’t fit either diagnosis, so I knew something else was going on. It was only when I met an excellent therapist that I was introduced to a part of myself I wasn’t aware of. I was in the dark about how or when this therapist met this part, but with further examination, I was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder. My mother was diagnosed with that, and because of the confusion I felt growing up living with a DID mother, I resisted the diagnosis. It took about a year to come to terms with it. At first, I wanted no part of it.

Throughout the years, and more hospitalizations than I can count, I couldn’t deny the disorder any longer. More and more parts of me started to reveal themselves. One of my therapists suggested a communication journal for the others to introduce themselves and communicate what they needed me to know. At first, it was hard reading what they needed me to know. They filled me in on some of the lost time and what was happening.

Erin, a 14-year-old, informed me of seven years in a domestic violence relationship with another woman named Deena. I have since gotten memories of that relationship, but there was a time when I knew nothing about it. Just recently, I learned of another part named Kitten that was also involved in that relationship.

I do remember Melissa, a woman that I loved very much, but that love scared me so badly that I ran. To this day, I still regret that, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her. At that time, I spent several times in a trauma specialty hospital named Timberlawn, which has since been shut down. I learned a lot about my diagnosis there, and about coping skills to deal with anxiety, depression, flashbacks, and communication with the different parts of me.

In 2011, I met an excellent therapist named Kathryn who has been my therapist ever since, with a few breaks there because by 2013, my parents had gotten me a case worker, and I moved into group homes where I had no internet or ways of communicating with her because she lived in a different state. However, when I was able to regain communication, I continued my work with her.

She has been a lifesaver for me. She works with each part of me, which I call insiders. She slowly works through the drama that they endured, which I was unable to deal with. As well as DID, I also have an eating disorder, which she tells me is widespread for trauma survivors. She primarily works with that and my anxiety and depression, while working with the others on their trauma.

I prefer to communicate effectively with my insiders as part of a cohesive team, rather than work towards integration. I feel each insider has the right to exist as their own person. Having dissociative identity disorder doesn’t frighten me anymore. I see it as a blessing. My insiders have endured immense pain for me, and they have the right to heal, live, and enjoy life for once. The dissociative barriers between us have broken down with most of us. There are still ones that I know little about, but Kathryn says they will reveal themselves when they are ready.

I have a good friend, Annie, whom I can open up to and tell anything. Not as much as I can with my therapist, Kathryn, but I still can be honest with her about my thoughts and feelings, and she doesn’t judge me. Living with DID is getting easier and easier. I am learning to give my insiders time to do things they enjoy, letting them enjoy life for the first time.

The nightmares have significantly decreased, although I still have them sometimes.

As my insiders are learning to share their memories with me, I do have quite a few flashbacks, but I am learning to use grounding techniques like taking bubble baths, using scented lotion, and using distractions like watching TV shows or movies. I am learning to communicate with my insiders to find out what they need. I know there is still work to be done. I am trying to learn to challenge my old beliefs with healthier ones, and each of my insiders is learning to change the way they see what happened to them and stop blaming themselves. They are learning to put the blame on the people who hurt them.

Living with dissociative identity disorder, bipolar disorder with psychotic features, anxiety, and an eating disorder has presented many challenges. It has caused many dark years, including suicide attempts and ideation. I can honestly say that in the last several years, my life has stabilized. I have not been in a psychiatric hospital in six years, and I hope I never have to go back. I have a little hope now, and the hope that I don’t have, Kathryn is holding for me until I can keep it for myself.