I must admit, I really relate to those who wrestle with the mental illness Dissociative Identity Disorder (formerly known as “Multiple personality disorder”)

(For pop culture reference of Dissociative Identity Disorder, see Sally Field in her film, “Sybil”)

Granted, I know that this disorder is not commonly seen with positive implications. I know that our culture does not embrace this type of self-structure and that we all work vigorously (and I would argue ineffectively)  to try to construct ourselves as “one” “consistent” “cohesive” human, who is predictable, and linear. But I think it is impossible. I think we are so f-ing complex, and fragmented, and full of too many pieces to have a “singular self”.

In the conventional sense of course, I do not in fact have “multiple personalities”. I am consciously aware of myself as one person (although some would argue that the whole Eli/Liz thing is a bit bizzarre).

I am internally informed of my unique parts and their presence in my experience of life. I do not have periods of “fugue” or amnesia that indicate a split in my personality. (A person who suffers with DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder), is NOT aware of the different personalities that they present….in other words, there can literally be a “tom” and a “bob” and a “ichabod”, and those parts of that person’s experience create gaps and confusion for them. What happens to “bob” may not be accessible to “tom”, which causes a lapse in time and narrative.)

I do however feel that I am multiplicitous.

There are parts of me that are vibrant and alive, and full of gusto and confidence. And there are other parts (little tiny baby parts), that are fragile, and terrified, and quick to fold at the hand of violence and intimidation.

And I could go on an on (thanks to years of psycotherapy) about my different “me’s”, and the relationships that they have with the world, and the relationships that they have with each other. (My opinionated, intellectual me, doesn’t tend to be too approving of my weepy, terrified, under-confident me).

But I am starting to realize something really profound. There are in fact many me’s. And this is not a flaw, or a burden (although sorting through them sometimes feels that way). But rather it is the power of the mysterious and the sacred manifest in my being. It is the glory of a life that has the possibility to continutally redefine and rediscover itself. I have too many me’s to be complete, and so I am left to explore and desire and decompensate at times….but always I am morphing and changing in relation not only to others, but also to myself.

Sometimes I want to throw up when people pull the cheesy “my partner is a never ending well of mystery and newness each day”. But other times I so long for that to be true. And I think it is high time that we start approaching our many me’s in the same way. There is always something new, something old, something profound to be discovered about ourselves, and in this way, we are blessed to be so damned fragmented, piecy, and confused about who we are.

Because this IS who we are. We are the compilation of the infinite moments, relationships, sensations, and places that we go, feel, see, and long for. And the gift that we have in that multiplicity is what I think makes life worth living.

So maybe this is just an exercise in validating my multiple neurosis, but maybe it is also an exercise in truly falling in love with the most intimate group I will ever be a part of….myself (or should I say, myselves?)