Some of you know there is a documentary in progress based on Shattered Diana. It was not until the filmmaker was interviewing me in early December that I suddenly realized I “might” have more evidence that I had had the day child/night child “split.”
When the filmmaker asked me how it had felt to have DID/Dissociated Identities, my mind went blank. I probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I responded, “I cannot tell you because I didn’t know I had it. It was my normal.”
BUT then suddenly I recalled that there had been a letter in the June 8, 1954 envelope that contained my trauma drawings [pages 30-32]. As my eyes got wider, I exclaimed, “I’ll bet if I find that newsy little letter about a family beach picnic, it will be signed differently from my trauma art!”
All of my primary sources are in a temporary archive that I cannot access for another month but I was able to find the back side of the letter in my computer scans from September 2013 — just a few weeks before I learned I have Stage IV breast cancer. This scan suggests I had made the connection but then the terror of my new diagnosis overwhelmed me and made me forget until the filmmaker’s question.
This is what I discovered. The chatty little letter about a family beach picnic is signed DIANA LEE. The trauma art “inside me” drawing is signed DIANE and my maiden name XYZ that I had photoshopped out to protect family privacy. I had split my legal name into two different names. DIANA LEE was actually my first and middle name. DIANE was not my legal name nor a nickname but I chose it and paired it with my maiden name XYZ. In other words, two totally separate identities: DIANA LEE and DIANE XYZ!
Page 31 shows DIANE with my maiden name XYZ removed on my “inside me” drawing and call for help. Above is the backside of the beach picnic letter signed DIANA LEE. Clearly, Sally Kile told me the truth that was impossible to believe.
It was this day child/night child split that led me to believe Evangelical Fundamentalist dogma. I had devils and demons inside me. But, in reality, it was the traumatized “night child” bleeding information into my conscious “day child’s” awareness in spite of having amnesia between the two identities. Knowing-what-I-could-not-have known experiences colluded with “born in sin” and “having a sin nature” religious dogma and set me up to believe my sense of evilness was due to who I was — not to what had been done to me. As Marilyn Van Derbur documents, survivors of incest feel evil to the marrow of our bones. [See: Miss America by Day] What my FAMILY DID was evil — not me!