When Rabbit Howls

by Truddi Chase

  Since the time our therapy began, her area of the real estate business suffered because of the changing economy, and Truddi has worked as an artist, an illustrator, and a legal secretary. At the present time she works in that capacity for a major firm in another metropolitan area.

  Truddi Chase and the Troop members suffered severe and sustained sexual abuse. The feelings and sensations associated with such experiences are beyond the developmental ability of a young child to understand and assimilate. The feelings are too intense and the experiences too bewildering, especially when the abusing parent warns against disclosure. For some children a process of dissociation begins to take place in order to cope with the overwhelming emotional overload. In Truddi’s case, we think that the first-born child “died” almost immediately after being subjected to penile penetration at the age of two. It was at this point that the other selves began to evolve, selves who “took over” during that child’s life all of the daily tasks of living. Overwhelmed by conflicting messages from its parents, the child simply “went away” while alternate persons developed to serve the major function of the dissociation—the protection of the child.

  The alternate persons developed into a structure comparable to the walls of defense in a medieval fortress. As nonsexual physical abuse increasingly became part of the experience, there came to be the need for even more protection. Persons developed to control and to embody powerful but separate emotions. Other persons had developed to experience the trauma of the abuse. And still others developed to deal with the various stages of the life cycle. The reader may ask, What happened to Truddi, the primary person, during the periods of time when the others took over? As the Troops explain, she “slept” so that she would not have to experience the conflict and the pain.

  Over much of the past ten years, my own clinical practice of psychotherapy has focused on the tragic consequences of sexual abuse as seen in the lives of both men and women. The woman whom I believed to be Truddi Chase called me, as a therapist who had experience working with sexual abuse and its aftermath, for help in dealing with the consequences of the sexual abuse suffered at the hands of her stepfather. She was also aware of nonsexual physical and emotional abuse from her mother. When I began to take a psychosocial history, usually my first step in a new therapeutic relationship, Truddi appeared to have few memories. In fact, after six years, we have yet to obtain a complete history. There were major blank periods in her life. As we began to develop the therapeutic relationship, and she began to trust me more, she told me, though hesitant and afraid, of an awareness of different “sides” of her.

  During the initial therapy sessions that were videotaped at the university where I taught, there was no way for me to know that I would be treating over the next six years not merely one woman but more than ninety separate, distinct individuals, ranging from children to adults, both male and female, some of different ethnic backgrounds, and all sharing the body of one woman.

  Had I been looking for multiple personality I might have recognized various clues: the major blank periods in the woman’s life, her distress at any reference to “time” in general, the mention of headaches that “didn’t hurt,” an enormous amount of driving energy, the expressions “us” and “we,” seemingly in reference to herself, and what I initially perceived to be varying sides of her personality.

  At the same time during this early period of psychotherapy, in an effort to remember the details of the sexual abuse, Truddi began writing a book about her life. Yet her initial draft made no mention of sexual behavior. She had no clear memories of any sexual experiences, including the one that led to her conceiving a daughter. She could not even use words with sexual connotations, which made it very difficult to communicate about the sexual abuse. As we together explored her special world, a world haunted by vague memories of sexual abuse, I came to learn that this world was peopled by distinct alternate persons who shared the same body. As therapy progressed, and as Truddi came to be better able to trust me, she began to reveal an awareness of those other distinct persons who in a sense took over and continue to take over the person whom we know as Truddi. I was told that the persons to whom I spoke were not Truddi, and that Truddi very seldom was present or even available for contact. The “presenting” person, whom I assumed was Truddi Chase, had few memories or even an awareness of the sexual abuse. It was the others who held the keys to those memories.

  The others slowly emerged and they remain. Who are they? We refer to them by name in the manuscript although most of them were afraid to be known by name and will still not admit their identities elsewhere. Rabbit, Miss Wonderful, Catherine, Elvira, Lamb Chop, Ean, Mean Joe Green, Twelve, Sister Mary Catherine, Nails, the Zombie, the Front Runner, the Interpreter, and the others are persons in their own right. They insist on their individuality. As I came to know them I began to realize that they were complex persons, and I followed their desire to be referred to as such and not as personalities. At times some were one-dimensional, but they appeared as separate from each other yet sharing. In time it became clear that each performed certain functions for Truddi.

  Even after I became aware of the dissociation—what I initially called multiple facets of her personality—I was not able clearly to state that this was a woman with multiple personalities. My training had included minimal information about multiple personalities, but Truddi did not appear to be like the textbook cases. And the manifestations of the others (when one person took over from another) did not occur as did those in the popular books and movies. There were no parades of personalities who would introduce themselves. In Truddi’s case, the various persons would make themselves known in a session only by a different facial expression or tone of voice, and a reference to “her” when Truddi was discussed.

  After working with other persons with multiple personalities I have discovered that they differ in the ways in which they present themselves and in the basic structures of the ways in which they organize themselves. Some come forth only while the primary person is in a state of hypnosis. Some come when called by name. In Truddi’s case the transitions during the initial sessions occurred with more subtle changes and often lasted only a brief time.

  Truddi had undergone psychotherapy previously and had been given drugs to deal with what her doctors labeled mood swings. She had been tested for epilepsy. But such treatment had not uncovered the basic awareness of her personal difficulties. In most ways her body was in perfect health, and the drugs could not affect her changing behaviors, moods, and emotions which others saw as inconsistent. And then there were the memory lapses that could not be explained. A counselor recommended that she see a therapist with a clinical, working knowledge of incest and physical child abuse in order to resolve “a case of extreme anxiety.”

  When Truddi first came to see me in the fall of 1980 her real question was, Am I insane? She did not voice this directly, but the underlying question was there. As I began to know Truddi, and gradually became aware of the Troops, I found no evidence of psychosis. There was anxiety and confusion, but there was also tremendous strength and ability to cope. The Troops served their function well: they were able to handle brutal and overwhelming experiences.

  It is important for the reader to realize that the book is not the product of one person. Most especially, it is not the product of the first-born child. The Troops cooperated to bring back the memories and compose the pages. It has been a way of sorting out and making sense out of a very complex series of experiences, a way for various persons to reveal themselves and to explain themselves. The book became a vehicle by which they could work together in a common, concrete effort to tell their stories and to share their awarenesses. Over time they all have had to decide whether they were willing to cooperate and then decide how to do so. The original manuscript appeared to be disjointed, and avoided reference to anything sexual. It displayed significantly different handwritings and expressed differing conflicting concerns. As new levels of awar
eness were reached the Troops rewrote the manuscript incorporating the new memories that surfaced. Over the period of the first three years of therapy the manuscript was rewritten a number of times, and each time new awareness of the details of the sexual abuse were incorporated. In each writing, what began as a skeletal outline became filled out until the manuscript as it is presented in this book was completed. Initially the manuscript focused only on the memories of the sexual abuse. Then the focus changed to a description of the therapeutic process and how the memories of the abuse came and the awareness of the multiple others grew. Writing this book has been an important part of the unfolding “healing” process in that it became a means of integrating awareness and spurring new awareness by opening new memories.

  The therapy sessions gradually became a safe place to come out, to explore, to test, and to share. I attempted to create a nurturing environment where the Troops could gradually begin to feel trust. They had never dared to trust enough to depend on anyone but themselves. The first step in therapy was for them to trust themselves, and, as their self-esteem grew, to begin to look at the world as a less frightening place. Initially no Troop member trusted either herself or another Troop member, so I began by trusting each one. Each member of the Troop Formation had to be reached on this issue. Especially for the children (of whom there are more than seven, to date), risking trust and therefore possible rejection (or even “death”) was in and of itself an enormous step forward. I encouraged them to test out new people and situations, and to learn to differentiate between safety and danger.

  The need to talk to someone in order to bring out into the open the secret that has been held for so long begins the critical process of trust, but the client is constantly attuned to the reaction of the therapist to the revelations. The underlying fear of a client is that she is responsible for all of the horrible things that happened to her. She fears that when her story is heard the listener will recoil with disgust. I find that most child-abuse victims have been manipulated into silence with threats and negative messages about themselves and are all too ready to blame themselves rather than anyone else.

  As a therapist I try to create an atmosphere in which clients feel accepted no matter what their experiences have been. The client needs to be reassured that the fact that adults have done evil things to her does not make her an evil child who deserved the abuse or brought it on herself. Initially, much of the therapy with Truddi involved listening and reassuring, supporting and affirming. It was necessary for her to learn to trust her awareness, experience, feelings, and fears as credible. She needed assurance that she was not “crazy” as she feared but that, given her experience of having lived through severe sexual and physical abuse as a child, her feelings and responses were “normal.”

  Sexual abuse destroys a very basic trust. It violates the child at an essential level, creating a natural defense against the perceived dangers of trusting. As a child Truddi did trust persons who were expected to be trustworthy, and gradually over time she learned that she had been betrayed. When she was sexually misused on a day-to-day basis by the stepfather whom she was taught to obey and believe, the capacity for basic trust was destroyed.

  For Truddi to trust herself would be contrary to all she was taught in her family. Truddi was told daily that she was bad and that she lied. There was no escape, no one to turn to for consistent nurturing. She had a sense of complete powerlessness and aloneness, and with it a tremendous fear and confusion. What better way to cope than to “go away,” to find a hiding place in the recesses of . . . where we cannot be sure. But she went somewhere safe, and someone came to take her place.

  This is my dilemma as a therapist: to create the atmosphere in which Truddi would trust me enough that she would lower her defenses and let me inside the walls surrounding her. When I first met Truddi I became aware that I had to get through layers of defenses. I now realize that I had to convince whomever was in control that I would do no harm. I accepted whatever came out in our sessions and reassured Truddi that her responses were similar to those of other women who had been abused. I could open doors for her to reveal more by sharing in general terms the feelings and experiences of other women. At times she would appear greatly relieved and indicate that she had had similar feelings but had been afraid to speak of them.

  When Truddi began to talk about her awareness of the others I could also confirm the reality of her experiences. My acceptance of what appeared to her as “craziness” did much to help her risk telling more. As the picture of multiple personalities developed I made strong efforts to reach out to the alternate persons to affirm their reality and to accept what they remembered as real. I did not press them to give me their names, because to them that would give me more control than they could feel comfortable with.

  As I worked with Truddi I concentrated on the strengths and positive aspects of her ability to cope. I often had to challenge the negative messages that she had received as a child and had internalized. At times she spoke so vehemently of how vile, dirty, and horrible she was that it seemed that my positive affirmation could not counteract the force of the ego-destructive messages her parents had given to her. Every time she concentrated on her “bad” aspects I would point out her strengths. Eventually she began to gain some perspective on herself and to believe that she had been brainwashed by her parents in order to keep her under control.

  Therapy was complicated by the fact that Truddi was in actuality not one but many victims. I was working with people of varying ages, intelligence, fears, interests, desires, needs, capabilities, and memories. Methods that worked with one Troop member did not necessarily work with the others. I had to try to convince over ninety persons that trusting themselves and others was no longer dangerous to their well-being, and that punishment would not be meted out for talking. Since they had been warned daily as children that they would be killed if they told, the fear that they were bad and would not be believed had colored every moment. For many Troop members fear remains. Some of these give evidence of their presence in the sessions only peripherally, and refuse to come forth openly. Their overriding concern was and is to escape any form of communication or closeness to any human being. I have come to understand that these particularly reticent Troop members carry the burden of the utmost rage and fear, and seldom appear in public. Instead they have “mirror-images” who handle their specific daily living chores.

  One Troop member in particular felt that as soon as the decision was made to enter therapy and divulge details to a stranger, “something awful” was going to happen. As therapy progressed and the Troops became better able to trust me, the apprehensive Troop member began to reveal what was for her a new and growing awareness of the other distinct persons. Only as time went on and the Troops began sorting themselves out was I told that the persons to whom I spoke were not the primary person or the first-born child. As we delved more deeply into the relationship of one person to another and explored their memories of the abuse, they and I slowly became aware that the abuse not only “destroyed” a number of very young selves but left the primary person or first-born child in a state of “sleep” after the second year of her life. Coming to grips with that and with Troop reality as a whole was difficult both for them and for me as their therapist.

  The woman whom I had met, whom I had considered Truddi, had been created and had grown up as a façade to present to the world. It was she who experienced the amnesia and therefore was free of all memory of the abuse. She lived in the shadow of a vague daily apprehension that she did not understand, but was able to present herself to the world in which she lived as a normal and proper woman. She was meant to hide from the world the results of the abuse and to enable the other Troop members to go undetected. But behind the façade were many others who at first subtly made themselves known.

  I grew to understand that with the first-born safely submerged and “sleeping” from the age of two, the other Troop members began to evolve one by on
e and to undergo the abuse for her. The evolution of yet other selves in effect buried the first-born child deeper over the years. What is the first-born child like now? A Troop member told me how she “received” the mind of the sleeping child “core” who surfaced briefly. It was a description of what an infant mind is like: unformed, unevolved, innocent, and still for all intents and purposes “asleep.” Such a revelation made me aware of how the basic person is protected by the development of the other person, and yet is kept from developing in a natural manner.