I Hate You--Don't Leave Me - Jerold J. Kreisman [94]
Elizabeth recalled sitting alone in the closet for many hours and often sleeping on the floor for fear of being molested in her bed. Sometimes she would sleep with a ribbon or award she had won in school. She found these actions to be comforting and continued them as an adult, often preferring the floor to her bed and spending time alone in a quiet room or dark closet.
In the hospital Elizabeth spoke of the different sides to her personality. She described fantasies of being different people and even gave these personality fragments separate names. These personae were independent women, had unique talents, and were either admired by others or snobbishly avoided social contacts. Elizabeth felt that whenever she accomplished something or was successful, it was due to the talents of one of these separate personality segments. She had great difficulty integrating these components into a stable self-concept.
Nonetheless, she did recognize these as personality fragments, and they never took over her functioning. She suffered no clear periods of amnesia or dissociation, nor were her symptoms considered aspects of dissociative identity disorder (multiple personality)—although this syndrome is frequently associated with BPD.
Elizabeth used these “other women” to express the desires and feelings that she herself was forced to repress. Believing she was worthless, she felt these other partial identities were separate, stronger entities. Gradually, in the hospital, she learned that they were always a part of her. Recognizing this gave her relief and hope. She began to believe that she was stronger and less crazy than she had imagined, marking a turning point in her life.
But she could not claim victory yet. Like a field officer, she commanded the various sides of her personality to stand before her and concluded that they could not go into battle without a unifying resolve. Elizabeth—the core of her being—was still afraid of change, love, and success, still searched in vain for safety, still fled from relationships. Coming to accept herself was going to be more difficult than she had ever imagined.
After several weeks Elizabeth left the hospital and continued in outpatient care. As she improved, her relationship with her husband deteriorated. But instead of blaming herself, as she typically did, she attempted to resolve the differences and to stay with him. She distanced herself from unhealthy contacts with family members. She developed more positive self-esteem. She began taking college courses and did remarkably well, achieving academic awards. She slept with her first award under her pillow, as she did when she was a child. Later she entered law school and received merit awards for being the top student in her class. She developed new relationships, with men and women, and found she was comfortable in these, without having to be in control. She became more content with her own femaleness.
Little by little, Elizabeth started to heal. She felt “the curtains raising.” She compared the feeling to looking for a valuable antique in a dark attic filled with junk—she knew that it was in there somewhere but couldn’t see it because of all the clutter. When she finally did spot it, she couldn’t get to it because it was “buried under a pile of useless garbage.” But now and then she could see a clear path to the object, as if a flash of lightning had illuminated the room for a brief instant.
The flashes were all too brief. Old doubts reared up like ugly faces in an amusement-park fun house. Many times she felt as if she were going up a down escalator, struggling up one step only to fall down two. She kept wanting to sell herself short and give credit to others for her accomplishments. But her first real challenge—becoming an attorney—was almost a reality. Five years before, she wouldn’t have