My 15 year old son, Angel, was diagnosed with ADHD, (inability to pay attention in class, his mind “wandered”, he couldn’t keep on the topic,) Reactive Attachment Disorder, (inability to bond with parents,) OCD (obsessed with certain rituals and items,) Conduct Disorder (uncontrollable behavior at times,) severe Depression, (where he would curl up in a ball in his bed and be unable to do anything,) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, (violent reactions to certain memories or thoughts.)  These disorders, and a severe memory impairment, all turned out to be symptoms of another, more insidious disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, (previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder.)  All of his diagnosed symptoms were manifestations of different “parts” of his psyche, all developed in early childhood to allow him to survive horrific child abuse.  Angel considers himself a combination of his “parts”, a “we”.  It is normal for him, and we have lived with it every day since he has lived with us at the age of four.  He has received incredible special education services which enable him to spend most days in a regular 10th grade classroom, but also allow him to spend time in a resource room if he feels the need.  All assignments are written down for him and all homework is done before he leaves school.  (This solves the memory problem.) 

            Angel finds it helpful to write his feelings down sometimes, and I wanted to share with you 2 separate essays he wrote:

 

            “”Wah! Wah! Wah”went the baby as he cried.  People walked by and ignored him.  “Wah! Wah! Wah!” he cried some more.  All he could hear were big, angry footsteps coming closer and closer.  A woman poked her head in the crib.  “SHUT THE HELL UP!”  she screamed at the top of her lungs.  This scared the baby more and he cried more.  The woman started hitting the baby all over.  The crying baby woke up the man who was sleeping nearby.  “Shut that kid up!” he screamed.  The man got up and started to beat the baby.  The baby left consciousness and a stranger took over his brain.  The baby did not remember anything after that.”

 

 

            “Angel is a fifteen year old boy who has a rare disability.  His disability is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID for short.  A lot of times, he does things and does not remember doing them.  Most of the time he has no knowledge of what a certain part did or said.  It is basically like having octuplets  in your head.  People ask the wrong octuplet a question and he doesn’t know the answer, so he has to ask inside to see who knows the answer or who remembers.  This effects him in a lot of ways.  The most important way is with academics.  Most of his parts are smart in different subjects, but the right one has to go to the right class.  If a part goes who doesn’t know the answers, then Angel will flunk the whole test even though one part knows the answers good.  This is the most frustrating thing about living with parts!  Other than that, it is most of the time good because Angel is never lonely in his brain.  He has some funny parts that keep him laughing.  He has a baby part that they all give a lot of love to because he wasn’t loved when he was a baby. He also has an angry part that they don’t know.  This part scares them, so they try to pretend he doesn’t exist.”

             This may seem extraordinary, but it is just an ordinary part of Angel’s life.  No big deal…

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Comments on: "Living with Dissociative Identity Disorder" (10)

  1. Hi,

    Thank you for the great quality of your blog, every time i come here, i’m amazed.

    black hattitude.

  2. secretshadows said:

    My blessings to you both.
    ~Secret Shadows

  3. foxxfire1970 said:

    I couldn’t help but cry when I read what Angel wrote. There is so much that I didn’t know about DID. He sounds a lot like my oldest daughter. She has abused my other children so many times and she doesn’t remember what happened. I have had to call the cops on her several times and I even pressed charges on her just to get her some help. Every time she sees a psychiatrist, one visit only, they tell her that there’s nothing wrong with her. I’ve dealt with her behaviors for 18 years. I know that there is something definitely wrong with her. She doesn’t live at home any longer but, she still has the same issues. Now, her fiance has to deal with most of them and he’s ready to leave her.
    Thank you so much for sharing your experiences. I’m sure that over the years you have helped many people! You are a true saint!
    Hugs,
    Erica

  4. I know this is an old post, I just found your blog today! I felt so sad for Angel. I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder from an abusive childhood. I completely understand the need to fracture into different people to find that person inside who is strong enough to protect you. I really hate a world that would allow a 4 year old boy to suffer such unspeakable evil. You are an angel for taking him into your family and showing him that he is worthy of love.

  5. When I was a single working mother raising my son I used to compartmentalize my brain to cope with my life and all the stress. Now I realize just how close I was to DID!

  6. This is a sad thing to know that people would hurt a child. I am glad that Angel has found love and acceptance in your loving home. You are a sweet blessing to the foster children in your care.

  7. ptigris213 said:

    Wow, this is incredible. While I don’t have anyone but one me inside me, I do remember retreating inside myself when I was abused as a kid. I know that inside me is a demon whom I keep very tightly chained up. I learned to do after a two day drunk, when, while drunk, I said something that ripped the heart of someone I loved very much. It was only later, when I was sober, that I remembered what I’d said. My apologies were accepted, but with a wistfulness and a sorrow that forever changed the relationship…as well as me. I have never been drunk again, and will never allow myself to ever be drunk. Never.
    But I treasure the demon, in an odd way, because she has made me strong when I needed strength, because I needed her to make me face up to the bullies with an “up yours’, asshole’ attitude.
    I think she was spawned by my father.
    You are right, abuse stays with one for the rest of their lives. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve survived, and I’m a stronger and better person for it.

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