If I’d kept quiet about my brush with hospitalization a couple of weeks ago, my doctor would have been the only person who knew anything was seriously wrong. I missed a blog post the following Monday, but easily could have feigned some other, less embarrassing emergency. We were in the midst of moving and still managed, with a great deal of help that would have been necessary either way, to get the old place emptied and the new one full. Even my family didn’t realize the jeopardy I was in. How is it possible to be desperately unwell and no one know? Dissociative Identity Disorder makes passing as normal not only possible for me, but nearly unavoidable.
Photo by Trang Nguyen
Nobody realizes that
some people expend tremendous energy
merely to be normal.
- Albert Camus
Dissociative Identity Disorder Develops to Conceal the Intolerable
Imagine a four year old boy. We’ll call him Bobby. His father flies into unpredictable, violent rages. What provokes laughter and camaraderie one day will earn Bobby a terrifying beating of staggering proportions the next. When his father hits and kicks him, Bobby’s mother hovers nearby murmuring at his father to calm down, as if what’s happening is merely a temper tantrum and not overwhelming violence. Afterward, no one acknowledges what has happened. If Bobby mentions his pain or fear, he is punished severely.
This is an example of the kind of situation that is a breeding ground for Dissociative Identity Disorder. Bobby regularly experiences severe trauma. He cannot predict what will set his father off and is therefore in a constant state of vigilance. He has no help, no way out. No one addresses his suffering and he is expected to conceal it. He must appear normal, healthy, and well cared for. Bobby’s mind adapts and learns to compartmentalize in order to meet the outrageous demands of his abusive environment. How do you eat dinner with a man who, hours earlier, beat you senseless? How do you politely ask him to pass the butter? The solution DID offers is simple: you aren’t aware of the violence, or the fear and pain it causes.
Multiples are able to function at a high level and “pass” as healthy by dint of an elaborate inner world and exhausting always-on-guard compensatory strategies for avoiding detection by others. – The Stranger in the Mirror, Marlene Steinberg and Maxine Schnall
Dissociative Identity Disorder Disguises Problems
The mind of an adult with Dissociative Identity Disorder is stunningly adept at concealment. Like Bobby, people with DID often aren’t aware of the paralyzing fear, the crushing grief and pain that exists somewhere in the dissociative web until it wells into a full-fledged crisis. Even then, Dissociative Identity Disorder helps them – even forces them – to pass as normal. This is how a person like me can appear to function normally while struggling to survive.
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I call it “passing for human” and needing to stay invisible…
I’ve OD’d, kept in the secure psychiatric unit overnight, been released, gone home and then to work like nothing has happened. This ability to hide is often the problem I face, when asking for assistance in a crisis… it can feel like I’m screaming out for help, but all my therapist sees is me being a little more withdrawn and saying that I’m hurting. The language I use, doesn’t match the trouble I’m in.
What’s worse, is when the danger is so well hidden within the dissociative layers, that you don’t realise how much trouble you’re in. That’s when it gets scary very quickly.
I’m glad you’re feeling better now Holly. I’m not sure about you, but I find it difficult to admit my frailty, so thank you for sharing this with us.
I have known I am DID for 12 years…the last 10 have notbeen spent trying to eliminate parts of me. I went through reintegration probably as far as most can/want to do…and find that in times of high stress that ir is nor enough…I find myself in the back of the closet, in places that I don’t know with things that cannot possibly be mine…yet, now – there is a hole that makes me so empty it hurts and I know that those things are mine and that I have brought me/us here and now it is my responsibility to fix it. I find your understanding and openess in this forum honorable and wish that it would have been available when I first accepted DID as a diagnosis…no matter how difficult the truth is…it is the truth and we already know that we can and have survived unimaginable truths. Please keep blogging and giving a voice to so many of us who have felt that there is not enough air to even consider having a voice. Thanks.
This post reminded me of the stress I felt when I started grade school. What an experience to suddenly be thrust into a classroom with kids who I felt were so different from me that I would catch myself staring at them as if they were aliens. I almost immediately created my “normal alter” so that I would not have to feel that dread every morning when I was woken up for school. She took over for me so that I would not have to feel that constant pressure to fit in. I couldn’t, so she did. Little did I realize back then that she would become such a big part of me because of course I needed her not only to finish school but also become part of the workforce. Such a big part of me that somewhere along the line I began believing she was the ONLY me. Of course she isn’t, but boy did I give her a lot of power! Too much, because she tries to prevent me from talking to the others. She still thinks this is her job, which has created serious communication problems for me. It really kind of sucks-needing her but being angry at her for being such a good blocker. I blame the need to be educated for all of this. (Just a little joke)
I can relate to the quote you posted by Albert Camus. I get quite tired of trying to be normal. And I’ve often wondered the same thing…how can I feel so unstable, near a point of crisis, but others think I’m fine. As a child I felt invisable and today I still feel invisable because I’m hiding so much of myself from others.
This is so true Holly. Thank you for writing it. What I can never understand is the disconnect from the often public perception that many of us are attention seekers. I know this is a message many of us get, because many of us struggle with it. I have pleaded hundreds of times with my therapists that I just want to be “normal”.
I am sorry you have been struggling lately. My thoughts are with you.
Hi CG,
“The language I use, doesn’t match the trouble I’m in.”
YES.
“What’s worse, is when the danger is so well hidden within the dissociative layers, that you don’t realise how much trouble you’re in. That’s when it gets scary very quickly.”
Yes again! I don’t even have anything to add, you’ve articulated it so well.
It really is hard to admit frailty. There are so many others, like you, who are bravely writing about life with DID and I’m inspired by that. And when I feel a little over-exposed, I borrow courage from all of you.
Hi kim,
First I want to thank you for encouraging me. I really appreciate that, more than I can say.
” … we already know that we can and have survived unimaginable truths.”
That is an excellent reminder and one I sorely needed to hear, kim. You’re right. And when I put things in that perspective, I feel stronger and more courageous.
This blog has really helped me understand what I’m feeling. You guys seem to be able to put in words what I can’t explain. It’s all there inside, but I can’t get it to come out. I read it here & then can explain it to my therapist in understandable words. I’m not sure why I get so jumbled up inside when it comes to words, but I do.
Thank you all for sharing!
This explains so much of what I’ve been going through this year. People keep commenting on how well I’m functioning and managing and I just want to scream at them that it’s all an act! It’s all a well-rehearsed, well-defined coping mechanism for when things get scary. And the more in-crisis I am, the better I can pass as normal. It’s a really dangerous cycle.
So thank you for putting these experiences down on paper.
Hi carla,
“What an experience to suddenly be thrust into a classroom with kids who I felt were so different from me that I would catch myself staring at them as if they were aliens.”
I still feel this way today.
“It really kind of sucks-needing her but being angry at her for being such a good blocker.”
I definitely get that. Have you told her how you feel? I ask because in February I was so frustrated and defeated with a similar situation – an alter that had/has an enormous amount of power and I felt helpless and angry. I knew if I kept fighting her I would never win. I was desperate and out of options. I did the only thing I knew to do – I wrote her a letter and told her exactly how I felt. That began a dialogue that culminated in a contract between the two of us that changed our relationship. It was hard, but it was worth it. Now this same alter I very nearly hated is someone I am incredibly grateful for. She still has an enormous amount of power, but she listens to me and works with me.
Hi Darla M,
“I get quite tired of trying to be normal.”
I think that’s what I like so much about Camus’ quote – he highlights the exhaustion that results from the effort to pass as normal. It really is so tiring.
Hi Paul,
“What I can never understand is the disconnect from the often public perception that many of us are attention seekers.”
Ah yes, the attention seeking thing! I’ve been reading more from people with other types of mental illness lately and it appears this is something they hear too, that they’re just trying to get attention. Once I realized that I started noticing how often people respond to all kinds of things that way, not just mental illness. Knowing that helps me to take it less seriously. It’s still frustrating though. And for whatever reason Dissociative Identity Disorder chronically garners that kind of judgment.
Thanks for your compassion, Paul. It helps.
Lenore –
I have that same problem – not being able to put my experiences and feelings into words – a lot of the time. And like you, hearing from others with Dissociative Identity Disorder really helps. That’s one benefit of blogging about DID that I wasn’t prepared for – the insight all of you offer. I guess it didn’t occur to me that people would comment!
I’m so glad you do. The dialogue really helps.
wow, this is REALLY helpful…
it also makes me realize how… I want to write the word “dangerous,” but fear that is being over dramatic. but it is true. anyway, what I was going to say, was how dangerous the combo of bipolar and DID can be.
when I start to decompensate, I get really polite and helpful. well, somebody does. and inside we are drowning, screaming. and also REALLY angry that nobody is responding or helping.
for so long I literally did not understand that I was not communicating on the outside what I was feeling on the inside. I did not know that I was the missing link.
Ah Holly, you and I are so similar it’s amazing.
I’m not DID, but I’m sure similar. I pass for “normal” so well that most people, doctors included, are stymied when I tell them what’s going on. Sometimes it’s hard to get a doctor to take me seriously because of it. What can I say, I have advanced dissociative skills. I have a merit badge and everything.
It’s amazing how lonely it is to pass for normal. And how lonely it is to look at other people like aliens. I’m aware I’m human. If you prick me I bleed and all that, but I just don’t identify with the humans. I’ve written about it many times.
And I find myself really hating the “passing” girl. She’s such a big lier. And I hate liers. And then I think I hate everyone for believing the lie. Functionality at an extraordinary cost.
- Natasha
Hi Natasha,
It’s funny … I thought of you a time or two when I was writing this post. Though it’s focused on DID and the unique things about DID that allow for “passing as normal,” as I wrote I was thinking too about how so many others with different mental illnesses are exhausted by the effort to appear normal.
“What can I say, I have advanced dissociative skills. I have a merit badge and everything.”
I am picturing a real live fabric patch emblazoned with the words ADVANCED DISSOCIATOR on it. I wish I had the Photoshop skills to illustrate it. It’s kind of awesome.
The “passing” girl. I love that you said this because it’s a beautiful example of what I mean when I say that DID is an extreme manifestation of what everyone experiences.
And I understand the hate. We used to have a pretty derogatory nickname for one particular system member who’s job is, to put it in everyday terms, Public Relations Specialist. She’s terribly good at it and we’d be a mess without her. Still, like you said: Functionality at an extraordinary cost.
I have the same issue as Indigo, DID mixed with Bi-polar ( in my case Bi -polar 2 ). Unfortunately when I become hypomanic at the same time my alters are in the front seat ( those with much less inhibitions than me ), the preverbial hits the fan. During these times I am highly vulnerable because my ability to reason out what is safe or not is definitely impaired. Also my thrill seeking alters don’t want our therapist to catch on to what is happening, because then he will significantly increase our medication and decrease their ability to “have fun”. So spiralling out of control is often deliberately hidden by my alters, and scaling buildings, playing chicken with traffic and so on have resulted.
But even without this occasional convergence of thrilling seeking alters and hypomania, I always seem to fake being normal. I ‘ve come to realise lately that I have actually done this all my life. For example, the more anxious I get often the slower and quieter I get. Also when I am incredibly socially panicked, out comes miss social and everyone thinks I’m miss friendly and miss confident, which is so not true. I feel like I have a face for everything so I can pass for normal and no one need ever see the real me. I believe it truly started out as a defense mechanism, but in the end just became my way of life. So to now learn to connect honestly with people is extremely difficult for me.
Hi kerri,
I think this really says it all for me:
“I feel like I have a face for everything so I can pass for normal and no one need ever see the real me. I believe it truly started out as a defense mechanism, but in the end just became my way of life. So to now learn to connect honestly with people is extremely difficult for me.”
Thank you.
i too suffer did and can sit and scream at the doctors that i need help and they don’t see it. until recently when i went to jump off a bridge and then a balcony, the doctors realised just how low i was. he has told me i am very well trained to hide my true self. mind you i had no idea what i was doing at the time. i only have been told about it. here in australia help is almost non existant. so it’s great to have contact with healthyplace.com.
thankyou
I don’t believe I have complete multiple personalities but I have experienced moments were certain things will trigger a reaction. I just feel like my mind and my emotions just wash off me and I feel different, talk different, but I still largely remember MOST things I do. The hypothetical you talked about could be my story basically. My father was always inconsistent with how he responded on any given day, sometimes it would be complete and utter apathy other times it would be profound control and anger over the slightest things. He was never abusive to the point of causing lasting injury but there were many times when he struck or kicked me. I’ve always had a high pain tolerance (although I’m now questioning as to why) so the pain itself never bothered me, it was the depth of passion that he did it and the spontaneity of it (some of the most severe physical traumas were some of the most unexpected or flat out unwarranted punishments). Sometimes I would get sent home from school and he would laugh it off, other times I would joke around a little and suddenly find myself with all of my possessions revoked. I started reading books (because they were the only thing I consistently had since they were never taken away) and sleeping a lot at a young age to avoid my father. I probably would have been fine after a while but as I turned into a teenager my father began keeping me from leaving the house more and more and eventually I started to just avoid going anywhere, doing anything, caring about life. Recently I had a breakdown after a poor semester in college (mono) and suddenly just looked around. Ever since then I feel as though I am 12 years old again, most things that have happened since then are foggy and I’ve realized that I have basically let my teenage years pass right by me. I guess now that I’m away from my father I am changing back to the way I feel I am, which probably explains the fogginess of all my memories in between. I suppose the one good thing about all of this is that I’ll know how to raise my children.
(and WHO not to raise them around!).
Hi suzanne,
I’m glad your doctor realized the jeopardy you were in! Passing as normal can be dangerous that way.
I’ve heard that about Australia before in reference to Dissociative Identity Disorder. I really hope awareness of DID spreads. I think raising awareness should result in part in there being more clinicians willing and skilled enough to treat it.
Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment. I hope to hear from you again!
Hi Nicholas,
I think the kind of inconsistency in childhood you describe can be incredibly damaging. There’s no way to protect yourself because you can’t ascertain what behaviors garner what sorts of responses. That creates a hopeless, helpless situation – something no human being can endure for long without repercussions of some kind.
“I don’t believe I have complete multiple personalities but I have experienced moments were certain things will trigger a reaction. I just feel like my mind and my emotions just wash off me and I feel different, talk different, but I still largely remember MOST things I do.”
One thing to be aware of is that dissociation exists on a spectrum. Dissociative Identity Disorder is the most severe manifestation, but there are other dissociative disorders as well. Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (DDNOS), for instance, is often similar in many ways to DID. You can read more about DDNOS here: http://www.isst-d.org/education/faq-dissociation.htm#types
Thanks for commenting, Nicholas.
I am wondering how I can help my sister more, she was recently diagnosed with DID. She, and me, are so glad for the understanding of the circumstances that comes with an accurate diagnosis?
How can I best be there for her?
What if I don’t know how badly she is really doing?
Hi Lisa,
First of all I think it’s wonderful that your sister has someone (you) who cares and is willing to take the time to learn more about Dissociative Identity Disorder. Not everyone has that.
I think psycho-education is priority one, personally. It’s hard to offer support when you don’t understand what you’re dealing with. If I were you, I’d read The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook by Deborah Haddock to begin with. It’s really accessible and offers accurate basic information about DID. I’d also recommend The Stranger in the Mirror by Marlene Steinberg. It’s easy to read and does an incredible job of normalizing dissociation while also highlighting the severe symptoms that differentiate people with DID from those without. I like both of those books so much for those new to DID because they both take the scary out of it, so to speak. It’s much easier to learn to manage something that isn’t completely terrifying and intimidating.
“What if I don’t know how badly she is really doing?”
You won’t always. And neither will she. I always say that one of the more frustrating things about living with DID is that you don’t know you’ve fallen off a cliff until you hit the ground. She may hit the ground without either one of you anticipating it – and that may happen many times. As long as she’s safe, it’s not the end of the world. She can begin to anticipate decompensation by paying attention to mental health warning signs. Dissociation makes that hard and that exercise may be very frustrating for her right now. Over time, and through trial and error, she will begin to get a clearer picture of the red flags that signify deteriorating mental health. You can help by listening, observing, and asking questions. Over time and trial and error you too will begin to get a clearer picture of what it looks like when your sister’s not doing well, no matter how well her system covers it up.
It really is a process. A long, and arduous one at that. And change may occur slowly. But I can personally attest to the fact that, slow or not, that change can be remarkable.
Hang in there.