Although I have been writing these blog posts about DID for over a year, I have not told my own story in detail. A couple of years ago, I worked on a manuscript that I intended to publish. However, for the last 15 months my husband and I have been serving a mission for our Church. We return home in the Fall. Then I intend to work toward publishing my story. For the next few months I am going to share excerpts from my manuscript. I would welcome any suggestions.
The Discovery
I had just finished my first intense therapy session. That night, my mind was restless with countless random thoughts. This unexplainable, mostly subconscious, agitation made it impossible for my body to settle into sleep. So, I grabbed my pillow and blanket, went downstairs, and turned on the television. I found that Princess Diana’s funeral was being broadcast in the wee hours of the morning due to our time difference with England.
I had always felt an identification with Diana’s sad, but gentle heart. At her funeral service her brother spoke of her good deeds and kind concern for others. Elton John performed a beautiful melancoly tribute song to her strength, character, and influence entitled “Good-bye England’s Rose.” Then a minister read the words of Corinthians 13 from the New Testament about charity, the pure love of Christ.
Deep, Unexplainable Sadness
By then I was sobbing uncontrollably. I felt a connection with Princess Diana and mourned her tragic death. This gave me opportunity to cry out the sadness in my own heart that I did not understand. I too have sought to have charity. In my profession and with family and friends, I have often responded to opportunities to be kind to others, to listen to their concerns, and to make them comfortable. However, I also carried a lot of emotional pain inside that I just didn’t understand.
Anxiety and depression were affecting my physical health and making it hard for me to do the things I wanted to do. I was getting more than three migraines a week and had an almost constant sense of dizziness and maliase. Prayers for relief went unanswered, but I felt a Divine reassurance that this wouldn’t last forever. For years I kept trying to push my pain aside and cover it up. But now my body was making me listen.
As I recovered from having a good cry, I watched the lengthy procession carrying Princess Diana’s coffin. Her two young sons followed behind. My heart ached for them. I tried to sleep, but don’t think I ever did. Soon I could see dawn breaking through my basement window.
At the age of 46, I found myself in therapy and discovered my Dissociative Identity Disorder. This is my story—a strange journey of self discovery, acceptance, and healilng.