Never before have I had so little time to do so much. If I don’t accomplish my job, people die; if I do accomplish my mission, people die—and I don’t even care. I’ve been trained not to care. Nothing in this world has a hold on me; I will die for any cause—and that’s what makes me so dangerous.

The other day I was in Africa. I walked through a herd of gazelle: it was near dusk, and my every footstep was deliberate and calm; birds flew through the air around me, gusts of wind whipped locks of my long dark hair across my face, the tall Savannah grass swayed like waves of an ocean. Every miniscule movement of every organism I was able to sense: the birds pruning their nests made the most delicate rustling noises—the insects underneath the ground made soft squirming sounds—the gazelles’ chewing of grass was distinctly audible as though I had my ear right by their mouths. I started dancing—a slow, sensual dance. I took off all my clothes, and the animals directed their gaze to my young, supple body. The sinewy flesh of my muscles writhed beneath my taunt skin, the veins bulged from my arms and chest and abs. All the animals of the Savannah started to move with the rhythm of my beat. My manhood was erect—my limbs felt like fire, a strong desire burned within me. Slowly, smoothly, I enticed a young female gazelle. I entered into her, and five humps later I climaxed—and as I did so, all of time and space boiled through a nexus in my mind. All time and power were now under my control—I had supreme knowledge of the universe.

Every night I have the most grotesque, disturbing dreams. I dream in color: various hues of scarlet red. The dreams involve death. I have a rich imagination; I am a creative person by nature.

Loneliness has been described as the sure cure for vanity. I never get lonely; I don’t need anyone or anything—by nature I kill, and by killing I sustain nature. I desperately grip onto what sanity is left in my mind: the tighter I grip, the more it slips away; the more I try to remember, the faster my memories fade away; the more I try to find a sense of stability, the more uneven the ground becomes.

Do you control your own destiny? I know I control mine. I am constantly breaking the molds of my sanity and forming myself into a new person; I take on characteristics that I see in others and use them for my own purposes—in this way my mind is an ever-evolving organism, taking in raw sensory data and altering my personality accordingly. I can be any person in any situation at any time.

I don’t know what it’s like to smile. I know how to activate the zygomatic major muscles of my face to feign the proper smile for the occasion, but I’ve never smiled out of my own happiness.

• My mother (molestation)
• My uncle (molestation)
• My aunt (attempted rape)
• My best friend from high school (coercion)
• The cop who took my report (two rapes)
• A flatmate from Wellington (drugged and attempted rape, saved by friend)
• A friend from Wellington (abuse)
• My fiance (attempted rape)
• Two friends from the Northwest (rape, coercion)
• Two friends from Australia (abuse, undisclosed)
• A Haitian girl I met at a hostel (OB/GYN abuse)
• A Canadian girl I met at a hostel (undisclosed)

Thank you all so much for your replies to this thread. A lot has happened in the last 48 hours and I wanted to share it with you all, who made it possible with your advice and reassurance and support.

My friend lives in another state and won’t be moving here until December, around Christmas. This made it hard to be with her at this critical time, but through telephone and Skype videophone we were able to get through the crisis together.   Yesterday I spoke to her T. He didn’t want to speak to me but my friend insisted and he did. He explained his model and claimed it is the standard treatment today. Maybe. But only a few of you have experienced this kind of treatment, and it sounds very unsuccessful, at least until the very last stages of treatment. I asked him straight out if he felt I was hurting her more than helping and basically he said yes I was. The biggest problem was in my treating child alters like children and his certainty really set off a crisis in confidence in myself. On the other hand, my friend was telling me that my supporting her—them—was all that was keeping her going at this point. She had thought that she was integrated, and now felt that the last 2 years since “integration” had been a lie. A lie to her and to me. Her journal started to talk of suicide and the worst thing is that she felt I was listening to the T and thinking of backing away from her; that I was listening to the T and not to her and her alters, all of who told me that if I talked to the kids as adults they would get scared, run away, never come out again, and might hide inside. Integration is our goal, and it is realistic in that before the issues with the T, there was agreement to do it. There was by now that much trust.  The adults inside would often tell me when we talked “you ask a lot.” I don’t need to say to any of you that the hardest thing to ask, and harder still to receive, is trust. Anyone abused at such a young age, whether or not a multiple, will find trust the hardest thing, the scariest thing, to be asked for. But my friend has this trust for me, and even the most cynical of the inside people were trying so hard to share her trust. The T through the whole system into chaos.  My friend had a car crash, but luckily didn’t get hurt badly. The next day it almost happened again. Switches that were rare and controlled were becoming uncontrolled and frquent, and in some cases the one finding him or herself on stage didn’t want to or intend to be there. It was that chaotic and I really felt it was my fault as the T suggested it was. A mess.

Against his certainty in his treatment methods though was the unanimous view of everyone who replied to this. I asked my friend to post the same question to the email DID discussion groups she belongs to and they also agreed with what was said here.  So an on-line community of people with forms of DID/mpd all agreed he was wrong.  He does have a lot of letters behind his name and a lot of credentials. But as I thought about it, I remembered that I have a lot of letters behind my name. In my field (I’m a prof, but not a psychologist) I have written more than a dozen books, about 60 published articles and anthology chapters, and the more I learn the more I understand that there is so much more yet to learn. So very much I don’t know. The credentials don’t make me omnipotent in my field, even if I am well known in it. Then I remembered that treatment models for DID have changed frequently since it went into the DSM in 1980, and moreover, much of the therapeutic community doesn’t even recognize multiples as being real—the diagnosis itself is controversial. Against that, for the last 150 years or so that we have records of it, the experiences of multiples have not changed. Obviously, if forced to choose, it’s a no brainer. Believe the people who live with DID over the T. They know what they are experiencing. And I know what I am seeing and hearing.

So yesterday there was a real decision. I am not hurting her by being with her and interacting with the alters, the kids and the adults, each in their own way. Each has a reason for being there, each has part of the truth, some of the memories, the secrets, that need to let go of, entrusted to someone, before they are ready for integration. The adults agree that now they want integration, and are willing to trust that it won’t mean their death; they won’t disappear and be forgotten. They will remain with her, as they have always been, just in a different form. And they are so tired. They have protected her for a very long time. If they can trust that she will be safe, they are ready to move toward integration. Together. No one left behind.

Finally I asked my friend to get on Skype so I could see the switches and recognize who was out each moment and talk to them individually. A few came to talk, the adults, but all were listening just off stage. I told them that with the pressures my friend was under—the move, going back to school, etc.—why now? They have been hidden for 2 years, letting her think that she was no longer a multiple. Why come out now? The chaos has to stop.

They gave me reasons, and good ones really. First, they felt it was unfair to come here with the understanding that she was integrated when it wasn’t true. They couldn’t stay hidden forever and I would see it sooner or later anyway. The decided collectively that it was not fair to me move across the country and suddenly there they were. Ethically, I should know what I am getting into and do or not it eyes open. Even bigger was internally. It was a test of trust. Trust is so hard. They wanted to see, as some inside argued, whether I would walk away, knowing that life with a multiple can be complicated. Would I get scared or turn away? They needed to know before moving out here. When they came out and I stayed and just interacted with them naturally and respectfully, they were able to at least start to trust. Then there were individuals who wanted to be close to me. One of the kids who was lonely and scared. A male alter, an intellectual, who wanted someone to talk to. A non-human alter (a lion named Kitty) whose primary purpose has been to protect the kids and wanted to be sure that the little girls would be safe with me. A felame alter who had never been out, running in the background so quietly that even the inside people were unaware of her, just wanted to come out and be held, as I held my friend in my arms in sleep. This alter was the first. She remembered the birth of all the others and for the first time wanted to be on stage, just for a moment, just to feel the closeness with someone. I told them the chaos has to stop. They are endangering the body and won’t get here at all if things don’t settle. They are all in danger now and they need to pull back before she really goes crazy, hurts herself, or is in a more serious car crash. They have always protected her, and for the next 6 weeks or so the best way to do that is to pull back. Time is so different inside that it will be only a little time really. Just moments in their time. But it is important time. They will be back when they get here and each will get what he or she needs. But until they are here, the chaos, the switching, the noise, has to stop.

All were satisfied, and my decision to listen to them and not the T was a huge thing for them. We agreed that for the next 6 weeks or so until she gets to my house, they would pull back. Withdraw from her consciousness as they did for the last 2 years when they let her think the mpd was over. When they get here, I will ask them out, all, one at a time, and we will decide as a community where to go from here. Find a T that all trust, including me, and move to integration after all the stories have been told. When the last of the secrets are in the open and my friend is able to fully cope with the pieces of memory and knowledge they hold for her.

Finally, last night she called and said it was quiet for the first time in weeks. She doesn’t know how it was done and had no memory of any of my conversations with the alters. But the fear and panic were gone, the awareness of sharing consciousness was gone. It was quiet, but not the same quiet as before. She remembers they are there somewhere, even if she can’t feel them now. And she feels safe and reassured that nothing has changed between us, multiple or no. I think it will stay quiet until she gets here.

We would not have gotten this far without your collective help. Thank you so much. We are all grateful for your support.

How do you feel about changing the security leve?