Part 42

Another and what will seem a strange peculiarity of B was the feeling that she was not the mother of her child. “I am not his mother,” she would say. “He is not my son”—“_I_ never was married.” “I know all her experiences,” she wrote me in a letter, “but they are _her_ experiences not _mine_. Why! _I_ was never married, Dr. Prince, and I am not Willie’s mother. All those experiences belong to A. I know she _had_ them, but then, so do you. The only difference is that I know exactly what she thought about them.” Indeed she carried this so far as to entirely neglect the responsibility of looking after his life. This was true also of the time when B. C. A. was ruled by the B complex before the change to the B personality. On one such occasion for example, she allowed this young boy to take a long journey of many hundred miles through the west, roughing it in the woods and canoes, without a care or anxious thought on her part during the whole time he was gone. All the arrangements were made by others while she herself did not even go to the station to see him off. Previously she had always felt the greatest motherly solicitude for the boy, even foolishly devoted to him, and could not bear to be parted from him even to accompany her husband on a journey.

This peculiar trait is easily understood on the theory that rebellious B was largely a systematized resurrection of pre-marital complexes but with a dissociation of the tender emotion (parental instinct). I have already pointed out that B regarded the “rebellious” complexes as herself, but not the other ideas of B. C. A. In referring to the former, as I have said, she used the word I, saying, I thought so and so, but she did not use such expressions regarding the other systems of B. C. A.’s thought after the genesis of these rebellious complexes. Likewise she regarded as her own the earlier youthful experiences before dissociation occurred. In the constellation of her complexes none of the experiences of maternity (which occurred after the development of the rebellious complex) were synthesized, any more than the sentiments and other conflicting thoughts of the A phase. Even in the embryonic contrary impulses of the B complex, it will be remembered, there were dislikes to “fuss” over the baby conflicting with the maternal instinct. She never, therefore, felt that motherhood was a part of her own experience. And so her _conception of self_ in its content differed materially from that of C and A, in that it contained references to entirely different experiences, and, therefore, included entirely different images and feelings. And it was organized with a self-regarding sentiment in which the instinct of self-assertion predominated instead of that of self-abasement.

I said that the parental instinct with the emotion of tender feeling was dissociated. This absence of tender emotion (affection) was also manifested in her attitude towards the different members of her family and her friends. As a girl she was markedly affectionate just as A and later C was, but as B she had lost this trait. She neglected her family most shockingly, in a way that showed complete absence of the impulses that come from tender feeling, and without the slightest compunction or recognition of the fact that she was wanting in affection. I might give numerous specific instances of this but refrain from doing so for obvious reasons.[289] B liked people but for other reasons than those which depend on personal affection. This absence, then, of the tender emotion with its impulses was the second factor in determining the feeling that B had of not being the mother of her child. It also, of course, prevented the building up a new sentiment of maternal affection through experience. All this is in conformity with our interpretation.

The way other instincts and innate dispositions were affected will be better described in connection with the A personality for contrast.

Another peculiarity of B was the change in literary taste. The lighter reading in which B found pleasure contrasted strongly with the literature dealing with the deeper problems of life that appealed to A. This difference has been touched upon by C in her account. It would take us too far afield to enter into the psychological reasons for it.

It remains to point out that the reactions of the personality in accordance with the new synthesis were intensified and became the sole reactions by the fact of the dissociation of those systems of ideas which represented the wider world view and which were organized with instincts and innate dispositions now inhibited. Those systems were the outcome of the cares, anxieties, responsibilities, and sorrows of later life. All these, which were acquired and had their origin at a comparatively late period, had subsided into the unconscious and ceased to influence the conscious life and give rise to their corresponding reactions. The emotions and sentiments of anxiety, remorse, self-reproach and despair, so conspicuous in the A phase, were completely dissociated from the B phase and formed no part of it. Though there was no amnesia for them as past experiences they were dissociated in the sense that they did not take part as psycho-physiological dispositions in the personality. They could be voluntarily recalled in an intellectual way as memories, but like many memories they had lost their emotional tones and were not awakened by any contemplated or actual line of conduct. Not entering the new B synthesis there was no clash by which the reactions might be modified. The sole reactions were, therefore, those of the B synthesis and were mostly those of pleasure and joy. You must not overlook the fact, however, that the dissociated elements of personality were still conserved and, as we shall see, capable of being resurrected and thereby taking part in the reproduction of the original personality, or of forming by themselves another dissociated one.

The _temperament_ of the B personality is in accord with the conception of a modified reversion to the conserved unconscious personality of early life. B. C. A. “was naturally very light-hearted, happy, buoyant.” Later when going through the stress and strain of her husband’s illness, and later still after becoming neurasthenic, she became apprehensive and given to self-reproaches, worry, and depression. She was racked by emotions of an anxious depressing kind. All this was enormously accentuated in the secondary personality A, (to be presently described) whom in banter I used to call “Mrs. Gummidge.” Now B reverted in temperament to the earlier period; she was free from depression; “had more courage, was light-hearted, merry; conditions did not seem so dreadful as they did to A,” and she “took things as they were”; “this was the way she used to be.”

If I may anticipate a little the development of the A personality, a passage or two from letters will show this difference in temperament as manifested by the emotions. B wrote, “A is nearly crazy about those papers. She simply ‘tears her hair’ and groans, and then, presto! change! and I am here.” Again in a note to her other self (A) she writes: “I suppose you have a ‘deep-horror-then-my-vitals-froze’ expression on your face now. Really, you suffer more to the square inch than any one I ever knew.” Although it is hardly fair to ascribe these emotional traits of A—a disintegrated personality—to the normal C, still they were and are at times noticeable in C as moods, or when under stress and strain. (C of course has pleasant affects and joyous moods as well.) B on the other hand was a perfect stranger to such feelings; she did not know the meaning of them; they were completely dissociated from her ideas. B’s sole emotions were those of pleasure and exaltation; C’s emotions included unpleasant and depressing ones as well, while A’s stock was made up almost entirely of the latter. This dissociation of unpleasant and depressing emotions from B is well manifested by her memories. When C (or A) recalled (and it is still true) an unpleasant experience the memory was accompanied by the original emotion in its full intensity. She lived over again the original experience and manifested all the feeling in the expression of her face and in gesture. But when B recalled this same experience of C (or A) she simple remembered it intellectually as a fact, without the feeling tone. In fact she would recite a painful fact of C’s experience with a gaiety of tone that betokened enjoyment at the other self’s expense. The same phenomenon was still more striking in B as a co-conscious personality.[290] As a co-consciousness she always insisted that while she knew C’s (and A’s) thoughts she did not feel her emotions. “You see I know all that A thinks but I do not _feel_ her emotions; she is all emotion,” she wrote. This she insisted upon again and again. She only knew what the other personalities felt by the way they acted. Similarly the affect which was the cause of the “rebellion” was dissociated from B. This same phenomenon was observed in the case of Miss Beauchamp. Sally as a co-consciousness knew the thoughts of the personal consciousness (B I or B IV) but she was not aware of the feelings that accompanied the thoughts; the feelings she could only guess from the actions of the principal personality, and as an alternating personality Sally likewise was entirely devoid of certain emotions which were strongly accentuated in the other personalities.[291] This dissociation of affects from B helps us to understand the difference in the reactions of B, C, and A to the same stimuli.

Footnote 284:

The same as when dominated by the B complex but in a more extreme way. (M. P.)

Footnote 285:

That is, the remainder of the C complex subsided into the “unconscious,” where, of course, its experiences were conserved. They could be recalled as a memory by B. As a system of ideas the B complex had been “flowering” for five years. (M. P.)

Footnote 286:

See _Journal Abnormal Psychology_, 1920, Nos. 2 and 3.

Footnote 287:

The science of human personality is becoming a special branch of psychology and is based upon the recognition and study of the innate psycho-physiological systems of which a few are mentioned here. Of the most recent works on this subject, those of Alexander F. Shand (The Foundations of Character) and William McDougall (Social Psychology) are the most important contributions. They are based on the study of normal behavior. Abnormal alterations, such as are met with in the psychoses and multiple personality, will prove to be a more fruitful field for study and will provide more valuable contributions to our knowledge of normal mechanisms, just as the pathology of the nervous system has done for our knowledge of its anatomy and physiology. Disease dissects the mind far better than can introspection or observation.

Footnote 288:

In a letter written in the phase A to me she writes: “B seems to revert to the time before all the sorrow and trouble. She writes in the diary [kept at my direction by the different personalities] as I used to feel. She ‘won’t be unhappy;’ she ‘will have a good time,’ etc. She seems younger than I, someway. I find that my friends often think me more ‘like myself,’ when B is here; she also spends money as I used to and will not acknowledge the necessity of economizing....” In another letter she writes: “Then came the time when I was wholly B. Everything but my own pleasure was cast to the wind. I felt and acted like a girl of 18, and I know that I _looked_ years younger than I do now.”

Footnote 289:

C writes: “To me this point of the affections is one of the most interesting and curious. As a child and young girl I was affectionate, shy, proud, and reserved—everything that B was not. I positively never had in me any of these traits that B exhibited during those weeks ... except gaiety.”

This statement, when analyzed, is in entire agreement with the results of our study. The absence of affection is what would be expected from the loss of the primary emotion “tender feeling,” the affective element in the parental instinct. Shyness is determined by the instinct of self-abasement which was dissociated from B. Likewise with the self-regarding sentiment of pride in one of its varieties, self-respect. According to McDougall this comprises two instincts: that of self-assertion with its emotion of elation, and that of self-abasement with its emotion of subjection. The latter instinct we have seen reason to conclude was inhibited in B. Hence, on this theory of pride, this sentiment was lost.

Footnote 290:

B later became co-conscious with the other personalities as well as alternating.

Footnote 291:

“Miss Beauchamp,” etc.; _Jour. Abn. Psychol._, Vol. XV, p. 80.

LECTURE XX (THE SAME CONTINUED)—THE A PERSONALITY

PERIOD IV

I

We may now return to C’s account of her dissociated life—to the point where she was about to describe the development of another personality, A, and at which I digressed.

Bear in mind that it is the B personality that now received the shock and that the revelation of the deception, therefore, was to a personality whose point of view was not that of duty or affection but of mere joy and pleasure.

After a period of a few weeks I received a second[292] shock, which was caused by the discovery of deception in matters[293] which my “obsession” had taken in charge. The revelation came in a flash, _a strong emotion_ swept over me, and the state B, _with all its traits, physical characteristics, and points of view disappeared, and I changed to another state which we have since called A_. In this state my physical condition was much as it was before the first shock,[294] that is, I was neurasthenic. From a state of vigorous health I instantly changed to one of illness and languor; I could hardly sit up, had constant headache, insomnia, loss of appetite, etc. My mental characteristics were also different. As before, however, there was no amnesia either for the state when I was B or for my life before the first shock.

Now, though as A I was filled with most disproportionate horror at what had occurred during the weeks of my life as B, I was ruled by the same obsession, but with this difference: what I, as B, had done with a sense of _pleasure_, I, as A, did with a sense of almost horror at my own actions, feeling that I was compelled to do so by what seemed at the time a sense of _duty_. I felt that I must carry out certain obligations, and I doubt now, as I afterward expressed myself to you, if I could have resisted had I tried. [I. e., she was again governed as formerly by the B complex.] I would not refuse the demand for help which was made upon me because, as B, I had promised my aid, but in complying I was obliged to do things which seemed to me, as A, shocking and unheard of. I felt that my conduct was open to severe criticism but I had promised and must fulfil though the skies fell. It seems to me now, in the light of our present knowledge of B, that I, while in this A phase, was in a sort of somnambulistic stage governed by what I have learned were co-conscious ideas belonging to B; and that the impulses of the B complex were too strong to be resisted; but in my memory my ideas as B were at this time so curiously intermingled with my ideas as A that it is useless to try to analyze my mind more accurately. In mood, points of view and ideals I was A, but I _did_ the things B would have done, though from a different incentive.

To fully appreciate the situation and in that light the meaning of A’s point of view in the preceding passage and in that which follows, we must remember that, when the original personality B. C. A., as the neurasthenic and a disintegrated self that we may call the _A mood_, was suddenly changed by the preceding “shock” to the B personality, for a few minutes the subject was angry, frightened and felt insulted. There can be no doubt that if the change had not occurred she would have resented any further continuance of friendly or philanthropic relations with the object of her resentment. When she came under my observation later, as A, she was overwhelmed with (unjustified) humiliation and blazed with wrath at the mere thought of the episode. Her governing feeling was vengeful emotion. Even later as the normal C she could not forgive or forget.

Now imagine the scene: a person dominated by such feeling suddenly, without apparent rhyme or reason, completely changing in her feelings and point of view, regarding the episode as a lark, enjoying it and smiling and happy. And then in this frolicsome mood continuing to play for a month with the object of her previous wrath. Such a scene on the stage would be a most dramatic one. Imagine what must have been the bewilderment of the victim.

Then, after some weeks of this play, the B personality changes back to the disintegrated self, A. As A she remembers what she has done as B in complete contradiction to her previous feelings and views of the episode, herself and the object. She is overcome with horror on remembering her behavior (as B) and yet she finds herself ruled by a fixed idea of the B complex and going on doing, but from a different motive, the very things which had horrified her.[295]

Keeping this situation in mind we can understand A’s feelings and viewpoint bearing in mind that all was morbidly exaggerated.

For a few days I remained A and then owing, I think, to a lessening of nervous tension, I changed again to B [personality] and remained in that state for two or three weeks during which time I was physically well and happy again. At the end of this time, as a result of another realization of the actual situation, A reappeared and was the only personality for some weeks. These changes were due to successive emotional shocks.

The following passage which continues A’s viewpoint accurately describes her state of mind when she came under my observation.

When you first saw me I was A at my worst. I had no amnesia for the events of the preceding months when, as B, I had been filled with the joy of living. There was no thought on my part of any “change of personality”—I had never heard of such a thing—but I was like one slowly awakening from a dream. I was equally aghast at what I (B) had done for _pleasure_, and at what I (A), had done from a sense of duty; one seemed as unbelievable as the other.[296]

One of the most shocking things to me, as A, was the fact that I had _enjoyed myself_ as B. Had I committed the most dreadful crimes I could not have felt greater anguish, regret, and remorse. I had been dominated by the fixed ideas and obsessions of B; I had felt that I must respond to any call for help made by this person [the drug-addict] even though it was against my inclination and judgment to do so; there seemed no choice for me in the matter—I _had_ to;[297] I could see no point of view but my own. To do what seemed my plain duty I was willing to sacrifice myself in every way, but could not see that I (A) was now causing as much anxiety to my family as I had previously done as B; that I was sacrificing them also, and that my idea of duty was entirely mistaken. A, it would seem, was the emotional and idealistic part of my nature magnified a thousand times. My emotions and ideals as A were not different in kind from those of my normal self, but were so exaggerated as to be morbid.

As A I was full of metaphysical doubts and fears, full of scruples. I did not attend church because I felt that I could no longer honestly say the Creed and the prayers. The service had lost all meaning to me and so it seemed hypocritical to take part in it. I felt that I had utterly failed in the performance of every duty, and tortured myself with the remembrance of every act of omission and commission. I accused myself of selfishness, neglect, in fact, of nearly all the crimes in the calendar including, in an indirect way, that of murder.[298] My conversation was always of the most serious character,—religion (I believed in nothing), life after death (of which I found no hope), and I dwelt much upon the fact that no one should be judged by their deeds alone, that no one could tell what hidden motive had prompted any given act. This was because I had (as B) done so many things which (as A) I wholly disapproved of and felt might be misunderstood. I did not understand them myself but knew that my motive had been good. I was frightened, bewildered, shocked, agonized—concentrated anguish and remorse. During these weeks I suffered more than it ought to be possible for any one ever to suffer for anything, and always, over and over in my mind went the same old thoughts,—“_Why_ did I do as I did? _How_ could I have done it? Why did it seem right? What would my friends think if they knew? I was mad! _I was not myself._” Finally I decided to end it all—I could not live under such a weight of humiliation and self-reproach. I am sure, Dr. Prince, that you must remember how impossible it was to reason with me as A, for it was at this time and in this state that I was sent to you and you first saw me.

Summing up this statement a new personality had come to the fore—a personality that was the antithesis of B. The traits which characterized A had been left entirely out of B while those which had characterized B were left entirely out of A. Both sets of traits were to be found in C though less accentuated and less freely manifested. The gaiety, love and pleasure and joy of life, the absence of all thought of responsibility and care belonging to B had given place to seriousness, a sense of responsibility and duty, a feeling of apprehension, to doubts and fears and self-reproaches. Depression and sorrow had taken the place of exaltation and joy. The neurasthenic state had replaced buoyant health.