A couple years ago I re-read Frankenstein. Nothing against Mary Shelley, and to write such a thing at nineteen is extraordinary; but that novel is just dumb. It’s like Catcher in the Rye and The Great Gatsby. It’s just one of these novels that so very many people love—and is stupid. I digress.
So, the leaves just began falling and I decided to re-read the novella Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It was an absolute pleasure. The atmosphere is just what I was looking for. Also, the story is taught and keeps you engaged. I wouldn’t say it’s scary per se, but it does possess a darkness: shadows, fog, the wind jostling the street lamps, lit fireplaces, mystery, fear, etc.
And the way the story is told is testament to Robert Louis Stevenson as a writer. I usually don’t enjoy being taken out of a story to read correspondence, but with Jekyll and Hyde I became very interested in the details. I read with relish “Henry Jekyll’s Full Statement of the Case,” when he reveals all and describes his experiments and experiences.
The timing here is interesting. Speaking of multiple people in one person, I have become friends with a woman who suffers from dissociative identity disorder (DID). You will know this as “multiple personality disorder.” I have had conversations with some of the other “parts” (personalities), as she calls them.
I can tell when Leah (not her real name) is having an off day. I have to ask, “Am I speaking to Leah?” And if I get an elliptical, abstract, non-answer, then that’s my answer. No, I am not. Leah has a list—and I mean a list—of other mental health issues. But the DID is the centerpiece.
I bring this up because we as a culture tend to have a rather two-dimensional, Hollywoodized conception of people with such disorders. For starters, it’s very hard. It’s kinda like MS: you don’t get weekends off. She really struggles.
Secondly, many people associate such disorders with violence; this is Hollywood nonsense and does not reflect reality. However, Leah is at the mercy of these parts; they “push her to the back” and can conduct entire conversations that Leah later will not be able to recall. It’s hard. That doesn’t mean it’s violent.
Another point is it’s not neat and tidy. It’s not like changing the channel with the remote—or watching the television while someone else does so. Leah says she has about fifteen parts that more or less cycle through. Sometimes they don’t at all. But it’s messy. And draining (for her).
I did meet a part that has a name—most parts do not have names. The part I met was Bailee (not actual name). Talking to Bailee was similar to talking to Leah. She even wrote her name for me. Curiously, she did not say it, she just wrote it. She, Bailee.
When you’re talking with someone with DID, the normal rules do not apply. You have to be ready—and not thrown off—with questions like “Who are you?” I’m quite relaxed with Leah—because she’s my friend, and I like her—and I just answer the questions. When asked “Where is this place?” I tell her. Onto the next part.
But most days are “baseline.” It’s Leah I’m talking to. She’s quite funny. She doesn’t let her list of issues get in her way, and she soldiers on. She’s a tiny bit sweary. And this makes me a tiny bit sweary as well. So, we swear it up a tad in our conversations. She’s a hoot.
I just learned that Leah loves Taco Bell. So, we’re going to be friends for a long while. I suspect we’re going to be friends for a long while anyway.
I’m rather protective of Leah and did not post this essay without her permission. She’s read it and gave me her approval to post it. That said, if folks ask me about her, I cannot promise I’m going to tell you much. I will reveal nothing about her. Leah has enough to deal with.
Thanks for letting me post this, you.
