My mother is a great woman. She raised me on her own, as a single, self-employed lesbian parent, running Queensland’s first gay and lesbian newspaper in the nineties, when it wasn’t okay to be a lesbian and it certainly wasn’t okay to be a single lesbian parent.
Nowadays, she is self-employed, owns and maintains her own home in the gorgeous mountains and has a far more active social life than I do. She is also my best friend.
On top of all of that, my mother suffers from severe mental illness.
If you have seen Shutter Island, Secret Window or more recently Split, you might better know this as its former name, multiple personality disorder. However, those movies do not accurately portray what it is like to live with DID (to the best of my knowledge, my mother is not a homicidal serial killer) or what it is like being related to someone living with DIDs.
My mother is a fully functioning adult. She also has more personalities or ‘alters’ than I could identify to you. Some of these alters I can recognise when they present themselves. Sometimes the way she switches from one alter to another is so minute that even her closest friends and family would never notice. Around me she has a protective, mother alter. It has only been in recent years that I have seen and been able to identify when her other alters emerge.
We have a very open relationship and my mother has never hidden her mental illness from me. We talk about what her mental illness means to each of us and how it affects us and she is very open about the treatment she is getting, which for the most part is regular appointments with her psychiatrist. Like anyone suffering with mental illness, she has good days and bad days. Sometimes the bad days turn into bad months and she has previously been admitted to a mental health hospital to help her through. These admissions were her choice and were never something that she was forced into.
One of the most common side effects of DIDs is loss of time. By that I mean my mother and I often have conversations that she would later swear black and blue didn’t happen. One of her alters might introduce herself using a nickname that she hates and she will have no recollection of this conversation. Sometimes, we will make plans that she looks forward to and then she will switch to another of her alters who will cancel those plans – not because she isn’t looking forward to them or because she doesn’t want to spend time with me, but because the anxiety of committing to those plans or leaving the house will be too much for that alter. For her, it is a constant push pull inside her head to make each of her alters happy, which is impossible. It’s like trying to make seven different people, who all want different things from you, happy at the same time.