This blog is reprinted here with the permission of jumpinginpuddles as Keepers and John and many more readers of it find it to be quite eloquent in it’s description of MPD/DID. Thank you jumpinginpuddles, Sa’de, and lightening for sharing this. To read more blogs by junpinginpuddles feel free to visit her link at http://lifespacings.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

this is who we are

i saw an email today from someone we have just begun to know and although sa’de replied i would like to talk openly about the untouchable subject MPD, or DID as it is known now.

We have always lived as one, living as one is not as the term applies to a singleton, we certainly have one body but in many compartments lay many minds. From an extremely early age we were subject to many different forms of abuse, the mind not able to cope with the torment inflicted ,instead turned upon the only avenue available a splitting. While one took the horrible ordeal another one lived a life that told the world nothing had ever happened, for in her mind although it was niggling doubt and many unexplainable scars there was no concrete evidence that anything had happened the day the night the evening before.

There were many nights that not one but many were created, the sadistic way in which the body as we call it grew up culminated in many sadistic and humanly termed unexplained to the horror of what the body went through each time the mind splitting to combat protection and ultmately survival. And slowly through life we worked, knowing each other but never letting the “host ” know of us. We formed a community based upon one common event, everyone of us bar a few had been created because of abuse. We got to know each other and watched as “our host” (the one representing the face for the outside world) struggled and bumbled through life. Often we rescued her and many times we did not, until it reached a point where we were at a safe enough point to stop being quiet and in safety a few not many made noises, they whispered at first, she ignored them, they whispered more she ignored them, then finally they talked in a normal voice, some big some middle some tall.

She saw a counsellor, never mentioning these voices she went in the vain hope there were some drugs some cure that would rescue her from the psychotic episode as she saw it from overcoming her. As she sat there each session her blank moments were as she put it deep in thought, instead the ones who saved her from her pain talked instead. While she thinks she thought and assessed her perfect answer, ones instead gave the unperfect answer, big littles small they talked one tiny bit at time. It took only six weeks before an expert in the field of MPD/DID was called in and only two session for her to realise we were we, for us who live inside we went yes no kidding, for our host it was a major catastrophe. From that moment on she tunneled herself in anger and self hate and the need to prefect herself and yes in her mind i think even us.

She tried numerous su*cie attempts and many ways in which to ignore us, she can hear us but instead chooses in her own mind to pretend we do not exist. For her the shame of being who she is, is far greater than the shame of ignoring it.The reality is we will never go away, you cannot banish us into the abyss because it does not suit your agenda now. We have helped the body into a life that is far beyond what abuse would have let us, far also beyond that first painful moment of self destruction.

We struggle alongside her and we walk alongside her we are the unmentionable word MPD/DID, our shame is not entailed in that but in the people that locked us into the diagnosis in the first place. We are not some book that has been read and analysed we are we, littles playing inside as they should have been from the start, teens talking sharing as they should have been before people got to them and us bigs, who should be sharing life as many others do without the complexities as we do. but instead we are many not all grown up rolled into one making sure the body can live to a ripe old age.

lightening

posted by jumpinginpuddles @ 7:28 PM