MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER / DISASSOCIATED
IDENTITY DISORDER
I am writing this story, documentary, biography and autobiography of insanity,
and unconditional love, as a partner (for 25 years), witness, and periodic
victim of one man for 25 years.. a man who not only suffered from multiple
personality disorder/dissociated personality disorder, but also schizophrenia
and with a dose of manic depression. The manic depression most likely is the
result of a genetic flaw.. but the multiple personality disorder and
schizophrenia were (I am pretty certain) the result of an accident he had when
he was a little boy of around 6-7 when he was hit by a car going 60 mph.
This is his tale.. and the part I played in his tale. If he should ever find
this manuscript in his hands.. please know my ‘husband for a while’.. that I
have not written this to hurt you in any way.. but in the hopes that what I tell
here… pieced together from all that you told me over 25 years.. and what I have
studied in regard to mental illness.. added into what I know to be true in
regard to reincarnation.. will be of benefit to you in some way should a doctor
who treats you find this in his hands.. and if that never happens.. may it be a
source of enlightenment for other physicians who treat those who suffer the same
agonies you do and perhaps someone like myself, who lives or has lived with
someone .. who suffers .. like you.
…
The little boy lived.. but he had many broken bones.. and was in a coma for a
few months. It was not the same little boy who woke up out of a coma who was hit
by the car.
The little boy who had been hit by the car was very gentle, a sweet pure soul,
who communicated with angels, and at the ancient age of three was so attuned and
empathetic to others that he was picking wild flowers to take to little old
ladies who were lonely. The little boy who was hit by the car was loved by
everyone.
The little boy who woke up from the coma was hard, strong, powerful, loved, but
also feared by everyone.
As he grew, there wasn’t anything he could not do. He feared nothing and no one.
He excelled at everything he touched. At the very young age of 11 or so he
became an entrepreneur.. hiring other kids to do all the grunt work on his paper
route. At 18 he was an adjutant to a three-star general. At 21 he was teaching
sales seminars. He was a natural. He was an alchemist of the mind.. turning
anything he created with his mind.. into reality.
I met him when I was 27 years old. He was 28. When he came in and sat down near
me on a stool at the counter of a restaurant and was quietly reading an
astrology book, I didn’t know who he was, only that he knew something that I
wanted to know. So being the bold one I can be at times, I got his attention and
asked him, ‘Do you know about astrology?’
He looked at me. ‘Sure,’ he said.
I don’t remember the rest of the conversation we had that day, but it was the
beginning. When we started seeing each other on a regular basis, he fascinated
me. He was extremely witty. I spent many an evening nearly rolling on the floor
because of the funny things he said. Sometimes my stomach hurt I laughed so
much.
It’s hard to remember back.. that was 27 and more years ago.. but I remember
there was always something mysterious about him. I pressured him from time to
time to teach me. He said, ‘You don’t want to know what I know.’ I said, ‘Yes, I
do.’
He told me he was the King of the Magi and Michael the Archangel, and began
teaching me the ‘Twelve Laws of the Universe.” This King and Archangel never
wavered in his message over the 25 years I was with him.. and therefore I feel
that he was a medium/channel for these cosmic ‘personalities.’ The things that
he taught me he repeated many times over that span of time. It was like he was
reinforcing the information in my head over and over again. (I can be a little
thick headed.) It was this personality who told me that one day I would leave
him, but I could not believe that such a thing would happen.
There were other characters.. personalities.. too.. that would come and go and
return. When I would make some remark about one of them, he would just say he
was acting. Among the personalities were two butlers (who called me madam and
waited on me), a gigolo, a seasoned criminal associated with organized crime, a
cowboy who was a terrible flirt, a woman. There were many, and the lucid man
knew them all and controlled them. He told me they (almost) all liked me. Then
in 1993.. the little boy who had been hit by the car returned.
He was sitting in our living room one day, kind of out of it during one of his
‘episodes’ where he was deteriorating fast. Then he opened his eyes and looked
at me and said, “Lady, who are you? Where’s my mom?” That was the beginning of
five years I spent with the little boy. He was a boy in a man’s body.. but
emotionally a little boy. He cried bitterly when he thought I would leave him.
It broke my heart to see this strong man brought so low. At night when I came
home he would be at the top of the driveway waiting for me like a little child.
He wore baseball caps.. and took care of the animals on the property where we
were living. He was so helpful and sweet, cooking me dinner during the week when
I had to go to work. I baked cookies and built a video library for him. He loved
Christmas and the holidays as much as any child. The child remained with me..
until one day.. when a chain of events that I had no control over shattered our
world.. and for the last time, his mind began to fragment out.. once again into
a million pieces.. and centuries and centuries of personalities.. all the lives
he had ever lived before… and all the guilt for all the things he had done for
centuries.. returned to haunt him.
When we were once again approaching the five year mark, in 1999, a series of
events took place I had no control over.. and then the nightmare began again.
This time he was more insane than ever.. a new personality I had never seen
before.. some kind of aboriginal witch doctor .. who loved to play with knives..
the bigger the better.. took over. I saw the dreaded pattern of behavior begin
once again: The voices in his head grew louder and louder. He began having
excruciating headaches, which he would not let me have him treated for. His
sleep pattern went from nine hours a night to two hours. He would stand outside
and turn the hose on his head.
He went nuts if coat hanger colors did not match
the colors of the clothes that were hanging on them (I think he identified with
matching coat hangers as a way of putting order into his mind which was in total
chaos). He began to rearrange the kitchen. He started threatening me to get his
hands on my pay check (when he was lucid he did not have any interest in my pay
check), and he would spend all the money on jewelry or other luxury things that
we did not need, and not pay the rent.. devising all kinds of reasons why it
should not be paid.. and knowing full well we would eventually get kicked out of
wherever it was we were living at the time.
When he took the car out he loaded
it down with so much stuff he could hardly get in it. (He had been a salesman
who could sell ice to Eskimos. He went out trying to sell once again.. whatever
he could get his hands on.. but his behavior was getting more bizarre so it put
the people off and he did not have the sales he once had.).
When we went
anywhere together (even at night) he made me wear dark glasses so no one would
see my eyes. He would yell and scream at me for nothing. He became, once more, extremely violent, and kept knives handy.. the bigger the better. I have been
sliced.. kicked until I could not walk.. had my head banged against the floor
until it was covered with blood. He held knives to my neck and pinched a nerve
on my neck and challenged me to move or breathe.
I became more and more silent
and filled with terror. I withdrew into myself and became non-attached… just so
I could stand it. He threatened my family. He began making it impossible for me
to go to work… so my job was jeopardized (even though losing my job would mean
losing OUR income). He would ensure that I had little sleep.. so slowly I began
to suffer from sleep deprivation.. and when I was entirely rummy.. he would
verbally abuse me and call me horrible names.. He began doing bizarre hand
signals and became extremely paranoid of absolutely everyone.. even little old
ladies walking across the street.. they were conspiring against him. He saw
‘indians’ everywhere. I looked but could not see them. He would talk sometimes
to people who weren’t visible to me. He would do sun dances and stare at the
sun. He would do terrible violent things TO ME (no one else) and then black out.
My nerves were stretched totally to the breaking point.
When he was semi-lucid I learned from him to sing.. so when he became extremely
psychotic.. I would make up a song. One night when he was being especially evil
to me, as soon as he was backing off I started a song incorporating God and
Jesus into it and singing that they loved him. He started sliding down in the
chair he was sitting on.. covering his ears and begging me to stop singing.
“You’re burning my ears.. You’re burning my ears,” he cried. I kept it up until
he was writhing on the floor.. and when I stopped for a brief moment.. he got
himself back up and went running past me and flopped down on the bed and passed
out. When he came too he was terribly depleted.
The final day..
In November 1999.. after we had once again been forced from our home by his
behavior.. and literally had no where to go and had all our belongings in a
great big rented truck.. he took over the truck and would not put our stuff in
storage. He just drove around and around going nowhere. He would park somewhere
and then wander off.. talking to people and collecting whatever he could get his
hands on.. sometimes stealing from stores.
It was getting more and more bizarre
and he was getting scarier and scarier.. until one day.. in a fit of frustration
because he could not get his way about something.. he jumped me from behind and
stabbed me several times in the leg. I was totally shocked and bleeding all over
the place (we were in a motel). He backed off and stood at the end of the bed
and looked at me with the strangest look, the knife still in his hand.. and he
said, “I’m insane.” He came too for a bit and got towels and things to stop the
bleeding, told me to lie down with my leg up, and then left the room. I was SO
grateful to be able to lie down and sleep. He had deprived me of sleep for 24
hours and I was exhausted.
Later that day he started getting worse and worse. He turned the radio up in the
truck full blast.. I had to cover our little dog’s ears.. and I could hardly
stand it. Then he raced around in the shopping center parking lot.. parked.. got
out.. and then started fumbling around with stuff in the truck.. and when I went
and spoke to him.. he started yelling at me and threatened my life (for the
umpteenth time). A lady heard him and called the police.. and shortly thereafter
they penned us in at our hotel.
He knew he was insane that morning he stabbed me three times. He jumped back
clear around the end of the bed, the knife dangling from his hand. He looked at
me with total shock in his face, and said, “I’m insane,” and then he left the
room. I firmly believe that he did not wish me harm, but something that took
over him he had no control over.. DID.. and so when the police showed up he
acted so belligerent that they took him away.
The last I ever saw of him he was
twisted around in the back of the police car, his hands tied, and he was looking
back at me, knowing (he is EXTREMELY psychic) that he would never see me again.
I think he was giving me one chance.. to get away. I took the opportunity and
fled.. and did not stop anywhere permanent until almost a year later.
……..
Because I was naďve and had no knowledge of mental illness and was a totally
trusting little soul, I did not realize what was happening. It wasn’t something
that happened every day for 25 years. At first it was only there for brief
moments in time. Something would set him off and he would lash out, and then
quickly pull himself back together again; but the older he got the periods of
time became longer and longer, and the violence.. a nightmare.
That started in
1989. The pattern I realized later.. was insanity and then (after he had
completely destroyed our lives wherever we were and we had to move and start all
over).. we would have around 4-5 years before everything started again. This
never varied, and he could not go longer than 5 years without going insane
again. But.. as I said, it was not constant.
Each time after he pulled himself
back together he was the nicest guy on the planet. Everyone loved him. He was
funny, witty, brilliant vs. smart, and always fair and helpful as a guy can
possibly be. When he was lucid.. his body and face were different than when he
was insane. When he was insane.. he would get real thin and wiry. When he was
lucid he would put on weight and be jolly and whistling all the time.
Looking back and remembering.. once away and out of the center of this man’s
world.. I began to remember all the things that he had said repetitively to me..
which I have learned since are indicative of someone with a mental problem, i.e.
‘don’t block my path,’ ‘don’t hassle me in the morning’ (before he completely
woke up and had his head together).
As he grew older, the insane episodes lasted longer and were progressively more
violent. I could see that there was a pattern to his behavior. Since leaving him
and studying various forms of mental health I now realize what torments he was
going through. I had no idea because he never in 25 years complained about
ANYTHING.
He used to hum, never complaining, but hummed. I know now it was to
drown out the voices in his head… the voices caused by that accident and brain
damage were never diagnosed or if they were.. they were a secret known only to
him. He never said why.. but he always refused to go to the doctor for anything
to do with his head. When he began having excruciating headaches, he would not
let me take him to the hospital. I know they were excruciating because he was a
man who had an extremely high tolerance for pain, and in 25 years I had never
heard him complain about a headache.
He refused to go see a doctor for his head,
and would not admit he needed help.. that he could not control what was
happening to him. He had told me many years ago.. “If they ever lock me up..
I’ll never get out.” (I so wish that I had known when I was with him what was
really going on.. maybe then I might have been able to help him. In the end all
I could do was run for my life and leave him to fend for himself, something
which has always made me very sad to this day.)
His family history as I understand it was that sometimes his father had been
abusive in his discipline.. and for things that he should not have been
reprimanded in such a severe manner. His parents as they grew older, but before
the kids were grown, took up drinking and had weekly fights. To this day the
family is very dysfunctional.
In the last 10 years his oldest brother, who also
suffers from the severe manic depression, went completely round the bend. He
went downtown in a major major city.. took off all is clothes and was giving
away all his hard earned money. They threw the net over him and put him into an
institution for a long while. He eventually got out but is so medicated, he is
no longer who he once was… kind of like a zombie.
My ‘husband’ saw what the drugs did to his brother. He empathized heavily with
his brother and hated what the medication did to him. They had taken away his
spirit.. and I know he did not want that to happen to him.. but his illness took
it away anyway.
………..
Where is he today? I do not know. I have remained safe now for two plus years.
Not long after I left, he was sent to prison for assaulting a woman. Prior to
that he was so out of control, I knew I can never see him again. For a while he
lived in a tree in a forest park near my mother’s house. After two years of
absence he is still looking for me.. He was seen last Thanksgiving dressed very
bizarre.. like some strange woman.. looking in my brother’s garage. I have a
feeling he has pulled himself back together somewhat, but given the severity of
his last episode, I think the man I once knew no longer exists.. and all that
remains is a sad sad loose cannon walking around who could suddenly turn on
anyone for the slightest provocation.
Knowing him and how he feels about confinement.. I think the thought of having
to go to prison again may be a strong deterrent that will help keep him
following acceptable social behavior. He is here on the planet, but not here,
and during the times when he is unstable, very very dangerous because he will no
longer be in control of himself because he is being tormented, and the slightest
thing can set him off into a fit of violence, although I KNOW in my heart that
he does not wish to be like this.
I have maintained my sanity throughout all of this. Michael the Archangel made
me extremely strong knowing what I would have to endure. We are NEVER given a
burden greater than we can bear, not if we walk in harmony with the Universe.
But.. it took a terrible toll on me emotionally, and when an organ such as the
heart is stressed to unimaginable proportions, it affects the physical body, and
so four months ago I suffered a near-fatal anterolateral myocardial infarction
that went on for over an hour, with cardiogenic shock (which only 20% survive),
given open heart surgery (triple bypass), followed by congestive heart failure
with only a 10% ejection factor from my heart due to the massive damage caused
by all these things, and others that have happened in my life to me.. things
that have hurt my heart. Unless some miracle happens, I will be disabled for the
rest of my life, unable to do what I used to do and love physically .. because I
cannot breathe if I do. I am not getting better.. either.. but seem to be
getting weaker… and feeling sick more and more.. so who knows how long I will
last.. before my heart quite simply.. stops.
A theory to seriously consider:
When we are sane, we are a composite of all we once were.. all our personalities
from previous lives. When we are sane, these personalities are all integrated
into the present one who can utilize previous knowledge and skills developed in
previous lives.
When some people suffer from serious trauma to their physical brain and
especially when added to this they are subjected to emotional trauma as well..
at some point in time when they are subjected to stress beyond what they are
normally used to or can handle at the time.. their minds fragment and separate
all the personalities from all past lives into autonomous entities.. once more.
The stronger ones take over.. and when a strong one is evil/very negative.. the
good kind personalities cannot bear what the negative one is doing and block out
and so when they are back in control they do not remember the havoc and harm
that the evil one has done.
Also too.. because the person is not in control any more of their mind.. it can
become a fertile field for demonic possession.
And this.. from my own personal experience is what believe happens to those who
are tortured by Multiple-Personality-Disorder/ Disassociated Identity Disorder.
Closing
Hopefully what you have read here has in some way enhanced the store of
knowledge that you already have. The effects of this mental illness are not
confined to just the mentally ill.. As a ‘victim’ of one who suffered from this
condition, I have suffered extreme emotional stress.. injury to my body.. and my
life to this day is not safe should I find myself in the same place on this
planet as this man who I once cared for physically, financially, and
emotionally.. and in every possible way I could… but who has obsessed on me as
the cause of all his problems because he is too ill to think rationally and
clearly any more.
And, in this particular case, if any of you doctors should find yourself in the
presence of this man of whom I write, I ask you now, no matter how bizarre his
behavior, that you treat this man with great respect, for he was once a powerful
soul with great great good in his heart. I lived with him for 25 years and know
him better than any other soul on earth, and despite all that he did to me..
when he was lucid.. he taught me many things and took care of me. I cannot hate
him for anything he did to me, but only love him for all that he once was. My
heart will always go out to him.. knowing he is tormented.. and I hope with all
my heart that he has found his way to someone kind who is watching over him..
and that maybe one day he will be well again.. and he will once again know the
feeling of being loved.
-anonymous
