BASIC CONCEPTS

— When novelists claim they do not invent it, but hear voices and find stories in their head, they are neither joking nor crazy.

— When characters, narrators, or muses have minds of their own and occasionally take over, they are alternate personalities.

— Alternate personalities and memory gaps, but no significant distress or dysfunction, is a normal version of multiple personality.

— normal Multiple Personality Trait (MPT) (core of Multiple Identity Literary Theory), not clinical Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD)

— The normal version of multiple personality is an asset in fiction writing when some alternate personalities are storytellers.

— Multiple personality originates when imaginative children with normal brains have unassuaged trauma as victim or witness.

— Psychiatrists, whose standard mental status exam fails to ask about memory gaps, think they never see multiple personality.

— They need the clue of memory gaps, because alternate personalities don’t acknowledge their presence until their cover is blown.

— In novels, most multiple personality, per se, is unnoticed, unintentional, and reflects the author’s view of ordinary psychology.

— Multiple personality means one person who has more than one identity and memory bank, not psychosis or possession.

— Euphemisms for alternate personalities include parts, pseudonyms, alter egos, doubles, double consciousness, voice or voices.

— Multiple personality trait: 90% of fiction writers; possibly 30% of public.

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Sunday, June 19, 2016

“I Never Promised You a Rose Garden” by Joanne Greenberg (post 3): Memory gaps and changes in behavior indicate multiple personality, not schizophrenia.

“Deborah had known for years and years that there was more than a little the matter…the times of blindness, intense pain, lameness, terror, and the inability to remember anything at all…” (1, p. 18).

“For many years words had come out of her mouth for which her mind could not remember giving the order” (1, p. 24).

“Sometimes she even forgot the English language” (1, p. 25).

“Like a dybbuk or the voice of a possession, the curse proclaimed itself from Deborah’s body and her mouth” (1, p. 46).

“At one time…the gods of Yr [Deborah’s secret inner world] had been companions—secret, princely sharers of her loneliness…Its gods were laughing, golden personages…like guardian spirits [protector personalities]…[But] The Censor had assumed the role of tyrant…Once her guardian, the Censor had turned against her [a protector personality evolved into a persecutor personality]…“And [her secret world] has a language of its own?” the doctor asked…”Yes,” Deborah said. “It is a secret language…” (1, pp. 52-53).

“Anterrabae and Lactamaeon were with her and so were the Censor and the Collect. Amid the noise of their conflicting demands and curses, she suddenly realized that she had lost another day somehow…” (1, p. 60).

“People would come to me and say, ‘…after what you did,…’ or ‘…after what you said,…even I won’t defend you anymore…’ I never knew what it was that I had done or said…I kept having to ‘apologize,’ but I never knew for what or why. Once I greeted my best friend and she turned from me. When I asked why, she said, ‘After what you did?’ She never spoke to me again, and I never found out what had happened” (1, p. 67).

“Deborah did not know what look she was carrying in front of which self…” (1, p. 103).

“Deborah’s body was still at the other side of the bed, but her self was not with her body” (1, p. 161).

A doctor asks Deborah why she needs to burn herself.
“It seems necessary,” answered a representative of the volcano [a personality of her inner world, not Deborah’s regular self] (1, p. 170).

She asks a doctor how long she has been in isolation/restraint.
“Oh, three days or four.”
She became aware of aching in her hands and aches along her arms and shoulders. She became terrified. “Did I hit anybody? Did I hurt anybody?
“No.” He smiled a little. “You were having quite a go at the doors and windows, though” (1, p. 173).

“When her vision cleared, it was only enough to see and hear as if through a keyhole. She was aware that she was shouting and that attendants were in the room and that the walls of the room were covered with Yri words and sentences [Yri is the language of her secret inner world]…The words were written in pencil and blood… ‘Where is what you used to scratch this?” [a member of the hospital staff asked] ‘Recreat,’ Deborah[’s alternate personality] said. ‘Recreat xangoran, temr e xangoranan. Naza e fango xangoranan. Inai dum. Ageai dum.’ (Remember me. Remember me in anger, fear me in bitter anger…)” (1, p. 188).

“But Deborah was still frightened. Her facial expressions were a mystery to her, one that had never been solved. In memories whose meaning was still dark to her, she counted years and years of enemies made in ways which she could never explain. Part of it had been the look—must have been the look—some expression not hers which she had been wearing, a voice and a doer not herself and capable of turning allies into persecutors” (1, p. 204).

Comment: Deborah’s psychiatrist, who diagnosed her as having schizophrenia, was well aware of her secret inner world, various of its personalities, and the secret language. However, there is no indication that the psychiatrist was ever aware of Deborah’s long history of memory gaps, which is a cardinal symptom of multiple personality, but not a symptom of schizophrenia. Search “memory gaps” and “mental status” in this blog for posts that explain these diagnostic issues.

1. Joanne Greenberg. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden [1964]. With a new Afterword by the author. New York, Holt Paperbacks, 2009.

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