In a documentary I saw an articulate young women who used to hear voices. These voices terrified her. She was labelled as schizophrenic, institutionalized and medicated: her doctors were obviously as scared as she was.

I was hypnotized by her story, even though I cannot really say I hear voices – well I do, but contrary to those of us suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder I’m aware it’s me speaking in my own head.

The documentary went on to explain that most people hearing voices are now considered sane: it can be a consequence of being sexually abused.

We all have parts in us, but trauma can sometimes prevent them from communicating with each other. Hence the frightening impression that voices in our heads are coming from another person.

I resonated with both her experience, and the explanation. It made so much sense for me as well.

Even if I don’t hear voices, I always knew there were different sides to my personality. I sometimes feel like a very young and panicked child, sometimes like a competent and calm adult , and sometimes like a cynical, judgmental soul.

Yes, I always felt “me“, but I ended up not knowing who was the real me. And I felt crazy.

Continue reading “Book review: No Bad Parts, by Richard Schwartz” →