Many young children are afraid of being alone in the dark. However, for a preschooler who experienced two psychic splits and Dissociative Identity Disorder, it took on an unusual intensity. My memories and feelings of this time are clear. I doubt that my parents had any real idea of what their little preschooler was dealing with in her young mind and heart. Trauma and attachment abruptions turned something not so unusual into something overwhelmming for me.
Mom’s surgery had healed and I was back at home full-time. I dreaded night time. Even now I recall my stomach churning at the darkness night outside and the artificial lighting inside my home. My sister was still in her bassinet in my parents’ room. My brother who used to share a room with me had been moved to another room on the other side of the house. I don’t remember having bedtime stories anymore. I suppose Mom and Dad were just really busy with the new baby.
Do You Need Sleeping Medicine?
A time or two I went into my parents’ bedroom and said that I had a bad dream. I was allowed to slip into that little space between Mommy and the side of the bed. Her tummy must have healed, I thought, because she let me in. She put her arm around me. At last I felt safe and immediately fell asleep. That felt so nice that I started trying to find this warm, safe place on a regular basis. Mommy and Daddy didn’t like this and soon they locked their bedroom door.
When I stood outside and cried, my dad would get his loud, train voice and say, “Do you need your sleeping medicine (a spanking) to go to sleep?” That really scared me. In later years when they told the story, they laughed at their cleverness of calling a spanking sleeping medicine. I never understood that because it made me feel deeply sad. I was a desperately scared preschooler, and there was no where to go for safety.
I had no choice but to somehow learn to deal with my fear alone. My new alter ego Dianna had the job of keeping my parents happy, so she left it up to Anna and me to figure it out. I am sure that some nights were worse than others, but what I remembered was kind of strange.
Can A Young Child Hallucinate?
I kept the light on in my room and lay between the sheets looking up at the cieling. The textured plaster began to take on shapes that looked demonic and scarey to me. I squished down into my covers further, covering my head while making sure I had a little hole to breathe through. One night I clearly heard these dark, demonic voices saying, “That’s great! That’s great! That’s great!” Was I hallucinating or were the powers of darkness mocking my pain? I told my parents about the voices and they said it was probably just the neighbors talking. I knew it wasn’t. They had no idea.
As Close As I Can Get to Safety
One evening I simply got out of my bed and huddled next to the foot of my parents’ bedroom door. Trying to get as close to safety as I could. I remember being really cold, but the blankets on my double bed were too big for me to pull off. I cried quietly for a while and finally fell asleep. When my parents found me there in the morning they said, they almost felt sorry for me.
Praying for Abuse?
It didn’t change anything, except that one night my dad came into my room before bedtime. He told me that I could pray not to be scared. This is the first time I remember praying by myself before bed. He knelt down with me and said a prayer about not being scared. After that I prayed by myself every night.
One night I had a very strange deam as I was struggling to go to sleep. I told no one about it because it was so strange. It was about a couple of men forcing me to sit on a hot stove. What was really strange was that this subconsciously conjured abuse provided an unusual sense of comfort that helped me get to sleep. Did I feel that I deserved abuse? Did it relate to the frequent spankings when I was two and traumatized? Nonetheless, it seemed to surplant the fear and I was able to sleep. Soon in my prayers before bed I would say, “Heavenly Father, please help me to dream about “the burners” so the I can go to sleep.” So innocent–so sad!
When I was the core me as an adult in therapy, I found myself struggling with self-harming behaviors, especially when my husband or someone I needed for safety was mad at me. Finding that pain could help me calm down was a very bothersome discovery for me as I was trying to understand and heal. It was sad that this urge was strongest when I was the core self. When the alter ego Dianna felt self-abusive, it was usually overlayed with anger toward others that was then turned upon the self. Anna was more likely to just have panic attacks.
Finding Safety Behind Alters
Looking back on my childhood, I am glad that I had Dissociative Identity Disorder. It gave me other parts to hide behind. Dianna could please and perform, even when she was terrified. No one had to know. Anna had the job of keeping me, the core, safe. She could intellecualize and dissociate enough to keep panic at bay. However, as she became more present and vulnerable in the journey toward healing this became more difficult and full-blown panic attacks occurred. The core me was most likely to exist alone in nature. I loved playing by myself in my backyard. I sensed the presence of the Creator and there I felt safe.