Accepting TWO of me

    It was a difficult concept to grasp.  The idea that one person could think of themselves as more than one person.  The whole idea of multiple personalities or (dissociative identity disorder) was foreign to me.  It seemed that I had held a secret in me that had been there since I was five and had even kept a separate memory than I did. That this little five year old part had different thoughts feelings and another life was mind boggling. I began to wonder about other people. Could this be in other people as well? What about my parents? They both had many moods. What were the indicators for this sickness? 
     I was so relieved when I found it is labeled a curable neurosis. The good doctor had explained that I had done something creative, intelligent and adaptive to survive. This adaptation no longer served me and I now had to re-frame the way I thought about it all. First I had to accept that I had a reason for breaking off a piece of myself. It was all I could do at the time to accept that I had one bad experience that caused this unnatural phenomenon in my head. 
      Because I did not have a five year old child myself yet I was unfamiliar with children this age.  Believing that I now was the owner of a five year old that was myself caused me to observe or think about children that age.  I found a picture of myself when I was in kindergarten.  My sad little face in the photo became the mental picture of this new part. I was young, innocent and vulnerable at that age.  Getting to know myself through conversation with myself became essential.  I discovered the best way to do this talking with myself rather than to myself, was to write. You might imagine how complicated it gets to carry on a conversation between two of you.  When I wrote it down I could read it; then the switching from one part of my mind to another was not quite so difficult. 
     This whole thing swept me into another existence. I was so amazed and horrified that I wanted to discuss it with whoever would listen. I could not talk about it with casual strangers but I did try to sort it out with my close family and friends. 
      So I had a part (personality). In order to avoid confusion I made up a name for her. At first she just said that her name was little (my name). This did not help an already confusing situation for me.  So I named her Elle which started out as an abbreviation for L, which stood for little. The name came to mean she in French.  It changed when I realized that although I was young when I was forced to break off Elle.  I was not little in strength and courage.  In fact the part of me that could handle the breaking incident was tenacious.  I had dealt with being raped violently by a family friend. This man had been asked by my mother to take me to school.  The school was very close to my house. I could have walked and made it safely there.  Instead I came in late and scarred for life.
      I did not discover this experience until I had many negotiating talks with myself. I had to accept Elle and understand her 5 year old perspective. As Elle I had to learn to trust myself to spend time listening accepting and not blaming myself for what had happened. It is common to blame oneself for things beyond your control in order to maintain the illusion of control.  I had to learn to turn my anger outward and not at myself. It was liberating to see I was and am innocent.  I did not do anything wrong to bring this experience on myself.  “I am not bad!” as I said it as Elle.