By Carol Maxine Son
Fourteen & More
Fourteen & More
My name is Carol and I have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), also known as Multiple Personality Disorder. I am one of fourteen fully functioning parts along with thousands of fragments. People with DID have suffered repeated traumas at the hands of people who were suppose to love them. I’m scared of putting my life and my diagnosis out there for public consumption, but I’m even more terrified of staying silent.
God granted me a second chance at life and I vowed to humbly serve him in whatever capacity I can. Despite my limited writing ability, I feel like God has called me to share my story. With all the misinformation surrounding DID, I hope that sharing my story can help dispel some of the myths and stigma surrounding this tragic condition. People with DID should be shown compassion instead of being mocked or feared.
I have no doubt that my abusers and their enablers will claim I am lying. I will leave it for you, the reader, to choose whether to believe me or not. My story does mention abuse and it will be triggering for some people. Do not read on if you believe those triggers will harm you or your healing in any way.
I call my parts The Gritty System because it took a lot of grit just to survive my life. In the coming weeks, I will introduce my parts and tell you more about each of them. To me, my parts are my heroes. Each of them more than deserve their own post after all they have done to help me survive. In this post, I’m sharing how I got diagnosed not once, but twice.
First Diagnosis
I was first diagnosed with DID in 1994 at the age of 21. After catching my first husband cheating on me, he raped me after I refused to have sex with him. Laws were different back then. He claimed a husband could not rape his wife and our marriage certificate was all the consent he needed. I was his property, end of story.
He soon found a marriage counselor that shared his values and beliefs. This counselor mocked me for being upset over being raped and called me frigid. I walked out of his office determined to get divorced. As I left, that counselor smirked and told me he is reporting that I have dissociative identity disorder so that my soon-to-be ex-husband could it in court against me to get custody of our son.
I dismissed everything this quack counselor said. As far as I was concerned, DID wasn’t real. Hadn’t that been debunked years ago? Clearly, this nutjob had issues. Any counselor who supports marital rape is not someone who has any credibility in my eyes. I shuddered to think of the countless women this counselor traumatized and destroyed over the course of his career.
Second Time
In 2007, my elderly father tried to rape me. I fought him off and dismissed his actions as part of his recent dementia diagnosis. He then told me things that no daughter wants to hear wants to hear from her father. The things he claimed just didn’t happen. My poor aging father was doing worse than I realized. Or so I thought.
Over the next five years, my life completely fell apart. I drank more and more to cope with the flashbacks, night terrors, and panic attacks. In my lowest moment, I put a shotgun in my mouth, ready to end it all. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t know how to live either. Thankfully, God wasn’t done with me yet. My parts took over and saved my life by reaching out for help.
Jay told me up front he was only interviewing me for my intake appointment. As I answered his questions, I panicked. I broke all the rules about never revealing the truth to outsiders. On top of that, I didn’t bring proof. Even with proof, no one ever believed me. How could he believe me without it? Would child protective services still have a record of my old case? I braced myself for the worst.
“I believe you,” Jay said.
Was he was making fun of me? A quick side eye glance told me he was being sincere. It stunned me. The dam inside me burst. A river of snot and tears flowed down my face in what can only be described as the ugliest of ugly cries. Those three small words changed my life.
Time To Heal
Jay took me on as a client even though he was already overbooked with more than a full load. I don’t know how many times Jay told me I have DID, nor do I know how many times I reacted to it like it was the first time I heard it. My mind didn’t want me to know the truth. It took years to trust Jay. I am grateful for his dedication and patience with me.
I quit smoking and drinking seven years ago. Five years ago, I escaped Mr. Nightmare and established no contact with my stepmother. She passed away last year. I chose not to go to her funeral. I protect my peace and give myself the space I need to heal by maintaining no contact with my half siblings. My mental health is more important than their drama.
Time flies so fast. I’m now 50 years old and ready to heal. My family of origin spent my entire life forcing their rules and expectations on me. Screw them and their threats to sue me if I talk publicly about my life. I own everything that happened to me. This is my story to tell and they have no power over me anymore.
I invite you to join me as I share my story and reveal my fourteen parts with each of you. Thank you for sharing your time with me.
Next Week: Introducing Rose
Next week, I will introduce Rose. Fully defiant and full of sass, Rose is our resident rebel and miniature food hoarder. Come back next week to learn more about Rose and her many antics as she keeps all of us on our toes.