We Are Jackie: Living with Multiple Personality Disorder
330
We Are Jackie: Living with Multiple Personality Disorder
330eBook
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781532029653 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 11/03/2017 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 330 |
| File size: | 397 KB |
About the Author
Wilkinson B. Dunlace is a retired schoolteacher living in Barrie, Ontario, Canada. He was raised in Toronto and began his teaching career in the early sixties with a metropolitan school board. In 1970, he was appointed principal of Kik-Onong Indian Day School under the auspices of the Federal Department of Indian Affairs. From 1973 to his retirement in June 1996, Wilkinson was employed by a large, central Ontario school board.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
CHILDREN OF THE FORTIES
Whatever happened to Randolph Scott Ridin' the trail alone? Whatever happened to Gene and Tex And Roy and Rex and the Durango Kid?
— The Statler Brothers
War babies! Jackie and I were both born in east Toronto during the early forties. We were not to meet for a number of years, but we shared some commonalities despite our separate backgrounds. Toronto was a hub of industry dedicated to the war effort. Daily newspapers reported the current events of the world conflict as it raged far away in Europe and Asia. My earliest memories include observing sailors in navy whites strolling downtown and along Gerrard Street while my mother visited grocery stores to use her rationing coupons for family meals. Every family either had members attached to the armed forces or knew of someone directly involved. Two of my uncles enlisted in the air force and went overseas, while my father was a deferred volunteer, due to the age of his children and his designated job, which provided for the war effort. Jackie's father enlisted and landed in England for the duration. Not all enlisted men served on the front line.
When the war ended, Toronto began expansion into a major metropolis, second only to Montreal. The postwar boom fuelled further growth, turning farmland within city limits into subdivisions. This growth kindled a positive financial outlook for the average family, which had sacrificed through the years of depression and war.
Both Jackie and I recalled seeing durable black cars from a previous era being superseded by more stylish, colourful ones as the automobile industry powered the economic engine. We both lamented the passing of horse-drawn city wagons. Jackie was a horse lover who enjoyed sneaking into the urban dairy and bread barns that housed these animals. There she would pet these mounts while daydreaming of riding each one off into the sunset. Alas, the horse-drawn wagons went the way of the ice truck that carried the ice chips we coveted — into extinction.
Radios were a key source of home entertainment; we gathered in the living rooms to listen to and imagine the stories being enacted. Jackie's favourite program was Maggie Muggins, and she had the doll to prove it. Television was a dream waiting in the wings.
Movie theatres provided an escape on Saturday afternoons. On Danforth Avenue it meant the Century, Palace, Odeon, Allenby and the Prince of Wales. Jackie's favourite was the Community, while I was partial to the Ace. There were no Cineplexes; all theatres were single auditoriums. These single entities held a fascination for me, especially the ones with ornate settings. We admired the heroics of Tarzan, Robin Hood and the Three Musketeers and chuckled through the antics of Abbott and Costello, Laurel and Hardy and the Bowery Boys. But it was the westerns that captivated us. Hollywood produced cowboy heroes who created magic on the screen. The westerns defined good and evil. Jackie and I would debate the merits of Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. Jackie preferred Roy and his wife, Dale Evans, while I was inclined toward Autry. Jackie indicated a desire to have Roy and Dale as parents. It was an innocent enough comment but one that would have significance later.
The westerns provided us with our first contact with "Indians." The question was to what extent the film industry was factual in its portrayal. A blue-eyed Jeff Chandler playing the role of Cochese left us with some doubts. How many other historical events were marked by distortion or a lack of facts? Our youthful frame of reference would someday change after first-hand encounters.
Churches dominated Sundays. Recreation was limited. City officials chained the playground swings and slides. Open Sundays were decades away. A puritan element still prevailed in Toronto as religious organizations reached their zenith in congregational attendance. A small- c conservatism was the order of the day.
Jackie's family lived originally on Valleyview Avenue, about a kilometre away from mine. The first memories she shared with me were of that place.
I remember my house on Valleyview Avenue; I was 5. I remember the school principal taking me on his knee and being very kind to me. I liked my grade 1 teacher, Mrs. Barber, a lot. I remember dressing up as a bride and using the dining room lace tablecloth as a veil and then going outside to play with the boy next door, who was the same age. We lived right next to a banquet hall, which was often used for weddings. People from the hall spied us playing and took us into the hall, where they took pictures of us and gave us wedding cake. My mother was not pleased to see the absence of the tablecloth, and I was lectured.
I loved my school and my teacher. It was traumatic to move away from both during the school year. My father was home from the war and had built a one-bedroom, one storey-home for us to live in. I had Mrs. Black to complete grade 1 at my new school. I was scared of her and her pointers. She hit hands when displeased. I wanted to go back to Valleyview School. The next year I had Mrs. Barber again, in grade 2. She had transferred into my new school. I asked in grade two if she would take me home. I don't remember why ...
Discipline or abuse? This was a routine happenstance of the time. Striking children at school was seldom questioned. After all, wasn't there a strap in the principal's office? Many educators believed there was a direct connection between the butt or hand and the brain; strike one of the former and the latter end would light up. Admittedly, not everyone was disciplined in such a manner, but fear had been instilled to lessen the thought of transgression.
I was the first child, then D about 18 months later and then K about three or four years after. M was about five years after me, then C about ten years younger. Five children were born within ten years.
I was also a member of a blue-collar family, the middle of seven children. Our extended family of cousins came and went as they pleased. Intergenerational contact was prevalent then. My mother talked on the phone to her mother at six o'clock every night. These vertical family bonds we came to value.
I met Jackie on March 7, 1958, at precisely 8:28 p.m. Normally I'm not that good with exact times, but on this occasion I took note. We attended different high schools, but on a whim I crashed her high school dance. She actually crossed the floor and asked me to dance. Fascinated, I took her into my arms. Later I learned the true story from Jackie. A girlfriend of hers had bet her a nickel to ask me. We spent the evening dancing to the strains of the songs of the day that pervaded the airwaves. If I had known, I would have paid the nickel myself. This was one girl I wanted to know better.
On the surface our families were similar, with numerous children. Jackie enjoyed her brothers and sisters and became like a mother to them. There were vertical connections as well with her maternal grandparents. Money was a little tighter due to her father's employment situation. Jackie preferred to spend time at her grandparents' house, which was just down the same street.
We often watched television during its infancy. Black-and-white images emerged from the set, bringing our beloved westerns into the living room. Jackie's screen mom and dad, Roy and Dale, were soon joined by a grandfather conscript, Ward Bond. Jackie likened him to her cherished maternal grandfather. It seemed possible that one could create an imaginary family, for reasons yet unknown to me.
Jackie's maternal grandparents doted on her and the other children. Financial help was also given from time to time, as it was in many families.
My mother's parents were kind, caring people. My nana was gentle but sometimes stern! She was very religious. "Go to church or the devil will get you." She was impatient with me when she was trying to teach me to cook. I loved her dearly.
Jackie's grandmother was indeed another mother figure. Coupled with her grandfather, she taught Jackie the meaning of love. Her grandfather's love did not extend to Jackie's father. The wedding of Jackie's parents was marked by his absence. His disapproval must have hurt Jackie's mother, who was an only child. Though he disapproved of the marriage, he gave the couple a lot upon which Jackie's father built the family home. He may have disliked Jackie's father, but he enjoyed the children, especially Jackie.
The cow jumped over the moon-e-o. He made us porridge with brown sugar and real cream, warm in my tummy. Went to Grandpa's for breakfast every day on the way to school. Talked to his yellow birds. Pretty, sing nice. Like his birds. Liked being with Grandpa. Pretend he's all mine and nobody else's. Pink shirt, nice hairy arms, and lots of hugs. He taught me how to make pretty scarves. Never seen a man sew before.
Said he learned when he left home and didn't know what to do with himself sometimes.
I knew Jackie's grandfather for about a year. His health was deteriorating gradually. Jackie was attached to the amiable cockney and so dreaded the inevitable outcome.
He's sick, so sick. He screams with the pain. His head hurts so bad. I can't stand to hear him scream and cry. Not my grandpa. Maybe if I cook him some eggs he'll eat them. Won't eat for nana. God, all he's getting is one meal a day. He's gonna die. I wanna stay home and take care of him. They won't let me. My grandpa loves me. He's nice and warm.
Jackie's love for her grandfather was overwhelming. As in life, so in death. Even Ward Bond could not replace him.
Grandpa died. I caused him to die; I prayed for him to die. Felt guilty. Hated God. He took my grandpa. Hated myself. Dead. Put Grandpa in a hole. Couldn't cry. Nana sad, crying, my fault. Left home and slept in his bed. Scared in his bed. Remember his hand and arm cold. His nice hairy arm cold and dead. Dead inside me. All dead, no Jackie.
One could note the distress of a small child at her grandfather's death. Yet Jackie secretly wrote these feelings down when she was in her forties, prior to her diagnosis of MPD. Jackie had nothing to do with her grandfather's death, and neither did God. But Jackie's pain here revealed an early childlike way of seeing the world as well. The undiscovered alters were already present during her formative years, unknown to me.
It was a few years before I met Jackie's paternal grandmother. When she entered the room, I think the temperature dropped several degrees. A cold, thin, aging woman, she was a widow who'd abandoned her youngest son to a precarious street life. This boy was Jackie's Uncle Stan, who exuded an air of distrustfulness. Originally this side of the family had lived on a partially worked farm near Huntsville. Jackie's earliest recollections of this farm were almost non-existent. No description of the house, the barn or the layout of the property came into her memory when I asked. I put this down to her being a young toddler, until I was informed later by another family member that the periodic visits there ended about the time Jackie turned 12.
Jackie's paternal grandmother had had no contact with Jackie's immediate family for several years. No birthday cards, Christmas cards or gifts were received. Jackie's father made efforts to keep in contact with his mother, to little avail. This provided a few clues about the upbringing of Jackie's father and about his own frustrations. It's a sad thing to say, but when the paternal grandmother died, the only person who may have mourned was Jackie's father. Jackie handled this death without grieving. Such was the contrast between the sets of grandparents.
One other relative is worth noting. Cousin W was Jackie's favourite. Cousin W lived on a farm northeast of Oshawa. After I'd been introduced to Cousin W, I realized their close bond. They were the same age, and both girls rode the horses on this farm. This farm contained a large piggery, which was the main source of income. Jackie described every square inch of this property to a T. It was obvious that frequent visits here refreshed her memories of this place as she rhymed off the many activities, ranging from hayrides to skinny-dipping in the pond with W. These memories contrasted sharply with those from Huntsville.
Jackie and I were inseparable during our teen years. We attended the usual dances, parties and family gatherings. We each had part-time jobs, which provided us with spending money during these pre-mall days. Specialty shops existed row upon row along Danforth Avenue. Many were family-run stores; this was before the days of widespread franchises. The local restaurants lacked golden arches, but they took our money in exchange for home-cooked food. Within these establishments we thrived.
Jackie and I shared many of the same interests. Her sense of humour was close to mine. She cared strongly about her younger siblings, remarking that she was like a second mother. From her maternal grandmother she learned to cook. There was always some give and take when it came to deciding which movie to see. There were times, however, when I gave in to her selection. Some early signs of limit-testing surfaced. I never thought of this as manipulation, but it could be interpreted as such. Jackie was kind and loyal to her friends. She was a free spirit in many ways. She enjoyed animals and embraced people of all ages. This spark of humanity intrigued me; I wanted to learn as much as I could about her.
We both graduated high school the same year. Jackie's commercial course made her a crack typist, and she soon found employment as a legal secretary. This was to be her lengthiest employment situation. I directed my energies to Toronto Teachers' College for the next two years.
As our courtship continued, we felt our lives were converging. Her inner children were probably in my unknowing presence. We were both unaware at the time that we were in the presence of something outside the norm. Jackie was the girl I'd chosen to marry. It became my goal to accomplish this feat: I wanted her to become my companion through life. I felt exhilaration when she consented to be with me forever.
CHAPTER 2
OUR EARLY YEARS
Wise men say Only fools rush in, But I can't help Falling in love with you.
— Elvis Presley
That was our wedding song. We were both huge Elvis fans. Jackie idolized him, and so I allowed my sideburns to grow. We married between my first and second teaching years, in August 1963.
We were married on a bright, sun-filled day, in a beautiful, meaningful ceremony in the church where I grew up. I was 20, and my handsome new husband was 22, and on that lovely day we were confident in our love for each other and absolutely sure we would live happily ever after.
My husband was young, strong and extremely good- looking, and I felt very lucky that he was going to be mine to love. We had gone together for six years before setting our wedding date and thought we knew everything there was to know about each other.
Our reception was of average size, about 100 guests (mostly relatives and friends, and an assortment of my family doctors and their wives, whom I was going to on a fairly regular basis just before our wedding).
We left the reception amidst a shower of rice and confetti! There wasn't much to say for the motel that we checked into except that it had a double bed (which seemed to me huge and looming, dominating the entire room), a powder room with vanity, a writing desk, television and a separate four-piece washroom.
I undressed from my pink outfit in the powder room after having washed the grime from my face and hands and carefully applied new makeup, perfume, etc. while my new husband got himself ready in the washroom.
As I climbed into bed, all perfumed, powdered and ready to begin our complete marital relationship, my husband called out from behind the door, "I'll open the champagne in here if you like."
"Yes, please do!" I replied, trembling beneath the sheets.
Pop! The cork hit the bathroom ceiling and bounced into the tub with a resounding thud.
Wilkie emerged from the washroom, dressed in a soft-blue dressing gown, carrying two stem glasses brimming with champagne. Suddenly he tripped on the corner of the carpet, fell forward and doused my lovely new white peignoir (which I had spent weeks searching for) all down the front!
I reacted badly, bursting into tears, and my husband spent hours calming me down in his arms. He asked me if I thought we shouldn't wait, to which I agreed, and we went to sleep cuddled in each other's arms.
The next two nights were the best of all! We found a rather pretty motel at a very reasonable price, with a lovely maple colonial four-poster bed. We went out to dinner after registering there, and returned to finally consummate our marriage. But by that time I was so tense and uptight that I could not relax, and sex was extremely painful and unsatisfying, as I am sure it was for my husband as well. He was excited enough, though, and having had no previous sexual encounters while growing up to judge by, he thought everything was all right, whereas I was really faking my responses for his sake.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "We Are Jackie"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Wilkinson B. Dunlace.
Excerpted by permission of iUniverse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Children of the Forties 1
Our Early Years 11
The Tour 45
Here Comes the Son 73
Relocation 83
The Gathering Storm 95
A Vision of Hell 105
Voices from Within 123
Effects of Abuse 149
Catharsis 171
Fifty Shades of Therapy 187
The Sisterhood 199
From Camper to Advocate 213
Voices from Without 221
Surviving a Survivor's Healing Process 229
Lessons in Contradictions 237
Five 'tions 247
Emergence of a Diamond 257
Aftermath 267
New Challenges 275
Into the Millennium 283
Ramblings of a Male Supporter 295
What People are Saying About This
In this book, Wilkinson Dunlace tackles the subject of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), formerly referred to as Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD), as his wife Jackie traversed through the labyrinth of our mental health system, desperately seeking answers to her complex experiences. Her diagnosis at the age of 48 changed their lives and was the final piece, along with years of therapy that allowed for her to move from victim to survivor of childhood abuse. The uniqueness of this book is that it has been written using excerpts of Jackie's journal along with Wilkinson's own experience as a partner and sometimes bystander, through this journey. The book is written with grace, compassion and sensitivity, sparing the reader the horrific details but shedding enough light on Alice's experience to allow us an honest and gripping glance into a life, marriage and family lived with DID. This book is helpful for mental health professionals, those individuals diagnosed with DID, survivors of childhood abuse and family members affected by a diagnosis of DID. Congratulations Dunlace on sharing such an immensely personal story, all the ups and downs with such aplomb and dignity. This is a gift you have given.