Multilayered
My lived experience with dissociative identity disorder—formerly known as multiple personality disorder—is a complicated story yet necessary to tell in my own field of professional psychology. Classifying my experience as a mental illness has been hard for me because my way of living is all that I have ever known, and the symptoms that I have experienced have been a response to experiencing extreme trauma. Although I have been formally diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, labeling it has served only to validate that I am a resilient human who has survived because my brain fragmented my experiences into parts. I don’t feel like I have a disorder; yet I clearly meet the diagnostic criteria and have been formally diagnosed.
What I want people to understand is that, as with other illnesses, with this “illness” there is a wide range of functioning, and the treatment can take a general medical, alternative, or traditional psychiatric approach. For me, it was a combination of all three. However, people like me who live with dissociative identity disorder often live in fear, and so I am trying to be open about my experience. I have lived in fear about being open about my diagnosis even in my own profession, which is supposed to be accepting of mental health–related concerns, and I have felt ostracized and alone.
I spent most of my life hating myself. I had a history of self-injury, substance use, and disordered eating behaviors that ranged from restricting my food intake to emotional binge eating to cope. I have dealt with depression, anxiety, and complex posttraumatic stress disorder. I experienced a hospitalization and residential placement (both experiences were more heartbreaking than actually living with the disorder).
Throughout my life, until I found the right network of practitioners and support, I had difficulty trusting people. I kept people at a distance. I was affection phobic and very guarded emotionally. I found solace in reading, in studying, and in my work. Regardless of my job titles within the field of mental health, work was where I felt safe and where I was my most high-functioning self. My parts knew how to work together and were brilliant at maintaining my work obligations.
School was always a struggle, but somehow I made it. I will forever be grateful to my high school history teacher, who saw my potential and encouraged me to consider a career in counseling. Today, I have four degrees, one of which is a master’s degree from Columbia University. I share this because part of the stigma associated with dissociative identity disorder is that the people who have it cannot function or obtain degrees in higher education. There are all types of high-functioning professionals living with dissociative identity disorder. It saddens me that no one talks about this. Yet who would want to, when the media makes people like me look crazy and dangerous?
I have been fiercely devoted to my recovery. I will settle for nothing less than optimal functioning. I have engaged in eye movement desensitization and reprocessing therapy, equine-facilitated psychotherapy, art therapy, group therapy, the Alcoholics Anonymous and Celebrate Recovery 12-step groups, yoga therapy, energy healing, breath work, body work, cognitive-behavioral therapy, brainspotting, dialectical behavior therapy, couples therapy, soul workshops, women’s groups, psychiatric support, four healing-from-trauma intensive workshops, and consultation with my professional mentors.
On my path to healing I have had many therapists, two of whom I credit for caring about me so much that I was able to begin to love myself. They learned how to flex and tighten the boundaries with my parts to help me create consistency in repairing my attachment wounds.
The stigma of this disorder is far reaching. I remember attending professional training on dissociation and dissociative identity disorder and hearing comments such as, “I have only met a person with [dissociative identity disorder] once, thankfully” and “I wish I had a child alter to play with.” Then, of course, there are the media outlets that have portrayed people living with dissociative identity disorder as having monsters inside. My heart hurt each time I heard such things, which is what prompted my courage to step up and speak out. The only monsters I have ever known are the people who brutalized me sexually. I have lived most of my life stigmatizing my own experience, because I had internalized what I had been told about dissociative identity disorder.
Even the process of coming forward and granting myself permission to speak out were scary and painful experiences. The day after I publicly posted an account of my experience, I came home, called two friends, and cried to my husband. He assured me that everything would be okay and that I was doing what I was put on this planet to do.
Still, there were so many unknowns: Would my patients leave my practice? Would I be rejected by my own psychological community? Would my family (what is left of it) hate me for speaking up? Would my public disclosure have ramifications for my husband? Would it have ramifications for my career? Would my story be believed? I had to go deep within and connect with my higher, wiser self and my higher power and trust that my coming forward was an example of a professional who has overcome years of torment to live a happy and successful life and who hopes that this honest personal account could start paving the way for others to start their journey. Recovery is an ongoing process. And it will be lifelong.
I remain fully committed to my recovery, and I am here to be a role model and a voice for anyone struggling with a mental health condition. I am here to say that you are not a diagnosis: you are a human being who has experienced pain, and it is possible to work through it to improve your quality of life. Recovery is a journey, not a destination. My life was once very messy and chaotic. With proper help and support, I have been able to create a life that is calm and peaceful. I want others to know that healing really is possible; I am living proof of that.
I do not see my condition as disordered. I see what happened to me as dysfunctional. More important, I have come to love and accept all parts of me, and I have come to appreciate dissociative identity disorder as a life-saving gift.
I am Adrian, a loving, kind, and compassionate human being who has been devoted to the field of psychology since I was 16 years old. I am a person who had to overcome the pain and shame of being traded as a little girl by her own father. It is now my role to advocate for the people who are like me by using my voice in the spaces that feel aligned with my values.
No matter how dark the journey may get for you or your patients, please do not ever give up. I was close to giving up and was, thankfully, unsuccessful. I thank my husband for fighting for my life when I was at times unable and for never giving up on me. I would not be where I am today without him or the incredible support of my wellness team. Recovery from dissociative identity disorder was long, intense, painful, expensive, beautiful, and worth it. More education and advocacy are needed in this area so that people can get the support they need and deserve.
Brilliant minds can do great things; dissociative minds can do multiple amazing things. Collectively as humans, we are all multilayered regardless of any condition. I am Adrian Fletcher, Psy.D., resilient human first, psychologist second.
