by Kim Noble
Another messy one, for different reasons, is Ken. He’s the last of us – so far – to have taken it up. I don’t know what makes them start. Dr Laine always recommends people try it as a way of expression so I suppose after five or six years of being around the smell of paint, curiosity got the better of him. In a way I’m glad he didn’t start earlier because I don’t think the house would stand it. His first attempt was a train – he loves painting them for some reason – but it didn’t go well. In a fit of temper he picked up the canvas and threw it at the wall. Because he’d been pasting the paint on so thickly – which could explain his problem with the picture – the canvas just stuck to the wall rather than fell down. When he pulled it off, Ken discovered he really loved the texture of the mirrored image on the wall – and so that’s how he always does it now. He paints onto a canvas, slaps it onto the wall and then when he pulls it off – hey presto! – he has his painting. I think it’s a really interesting idea but it’s ruining the wall. All the plaster’s coming off where layer after layer of paint is making it heavier.
And he’s running out of space!
I’m the one with the roller who has to keep painting over everything to try to get it smooth again. If it was left to Ken we’d have half-inch-deep spikes and bubbles all round the room. The curse of being the dominant personality …
The biggest thrill from our painting was the emergence of several personalities I’d never heard of before – which meant they hadn’t played very significant parts in the body’s life to date or, more fascinatingly, they were strangers even to Dr Laine and all the other therapists. It’s incredible to think that, purely by chance, they reacted to the acrylic and easel and decided to step out for possibly the very first time.
Perhaps if we’d taken up a different hobby – basket-weaving, yoga or car mechanics – other personalities would have emerged.
I noticed quite early on that of all the paintings worked on during the night, one style kept recurring. Most personalities kept daylight hours and occasionally stayed up late, but this particular style – using just white paint on thick, black backgrounds – only seemed to be active in the dead of night. Once I recognised the pattern I took a few examples to Dr Laine, who was none the wiser. We were clearly dealing with a nocturnal creature, so there was no reason why he or she would have appeared during our daytime therapy sessions. To this day, however, we still have no idea who it is, whether it’s a boy, a girl, man or woman. I didn’t want the personality’s anonymity to hold him/her back from being seen as an artist, however, so when we show the work at exhibitions we just refer to the artist as ‘Anon’. I’m happy with that, although Dr Laine disagrees. We’ve discussed assigning a more personal name but I won’t do that. In the case of ‘Pratt’ I think we’re helping her. But generally, as someone who grew up with the whole world calling me the wrong name, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone except as a last resort.
At least with the artist called Karen I know her name, although at first I just recognised we had someone else on our hands with their own way of doing things. Her pictures are also abstract but the thing that sets her apart is she paints with a toothbrush. It’s very well thought out, not at all random. Her most successful picture was a wonderful sprayed circle with a name hidden in the centre. It’s very striking and sadly, to date, just about the only thing I know about her.
Key is another interesting one, although unfortunately, her work suggests she’s also suffered abuse. Her usual theme is the tree of life, but she alternates between detailed scenes of sexual acts on children and bright, coloured patterns incorporating the teachings of the Kabbalah. I have no idea where she gets this information. I don’t know anything about that religion and I don’t have a clue where the body would have learnt about it. If I could speak to her, that’s the question I would ask.
Generally speaking, most of the personalities who paint do so fairly regularly. The exception is Mimi. In all the time we’ve had the art room she’s only finished three paintings: one is of Tower Bridge, and there are two country scenes. She also started doing Battersea Power Station and the Houses of Parliament but who knows when they will be finished? Perhaps she doesn’t get the same benefit as the rest of us. What’s just as confusing is her name. We call her Mimi because when Aimee asked her name that’s what she replied. Only afterwards did Aimee wonder, ‘Was she saying, Me, Me?’ And now Aimee insists it’s too late to ask again. ‘Mum, how would you feel if someone you’d known for five years asked you your name?’
I’m probably the worst person to ask that question but I get her point.
The content of a lot of the personalities’ paintings makes me sad, especially when there are children involved. Only one of them seems to make me angry, though – and that’s Abi. It’s quite weird disliking someone who shares your body but it’s exactly because she shares my body – with men! – that I can’t warm to her. As far as her work goes, she paints wonderfully spartan pictures of handsome men. I think they’re amazing, aesthetically, and I like to have them up in the house. Having said that, I think there’s such a lonely quality in her art that makes me think all is not well. There’s such a lot of empty space surrounding the figure in the foreground it makes me think she feels cut off from things and this is her way of reaching out.
So I should feel sorry for her – except I know her other way of reaching out is to advertise for male companions online, which sickens me, to be honest. The idea of Abi chasing men with my body while our daughter is so young is completely out of order – although if they’re as handsome as the ones she draws then maybe it’s not so bad!
I’m not the only one who admires Abi’s work. I’d say she was probably the most in demand of all the personalities.
Our confidence as ‘Kim Noble – artist’ increased when Henry Boxer accepted our work for his online gallery. For the first time we had a permanent – albeit virtual – display space. Obviously Henry has his favourites but he cares about ‘outsider’ art, as we’re called, and introduced us to James Brett, who included our work in his Museum of Everything.
Like Abi’s, Ria’s work has brought a lot of attention, too. Galleries are always keen to display her prominently. I think public spaces have more of a remit to shock. Very few individuals have ever bought one of hers, however. Can you imagine having those painful images on your living room wall? Having said that, some anonymous interest was expressed in Ria’s paintings after one of hers had been chosen as the art critics’ favourite on Saatchi-online. We also got a lot of positive feedback from his office about Judy’s work.
Of course, it wasn’t Charles Saatchi himself but the fact that it might have been makes me pinch myself. Not so many years ago I couldn’t paint and now I’ve had more than forty solo and group exhibitions. Exciting times. Yet you only have to go back a little further and I couldn’t even say I had a life: everything was a mess, too chaotic to breathe. Thanks to my painting I’ve come out of my shell and entered the world head on, rather than skirting around the edges. From not understanding DID for most of my own life, then hiding away when I did, I now find myself promoting our lives on talk shows, in interviews and now in a book. I even have a website! I never saw that coming.
But then most of what’s happened to me I didn’t see coming. The only difference now is I’m the one in control.
EPILOGUE
Action!
I never imagined, as I cried desperately to be released from my cell at Warlingham Park, that one day I’d be flown over to Chicago as the guest of the world’s biggest TV star. If you’d told me then that Oprah Winfrey would be interested in me, I’d have found it as unbelievable as all the lies people were spreading about my trying to commit suicide or having an eating disorder.
Ironically, of course, without one I wouldn’t have had the other.
Having an insight into Oprah’s world for just a few weeks was quite mind-blowing. After years of struggling to get by on very little income – not helped by different personalities
spending separately, I realised – and a lifetime of fighting to be heard, not only was I being given a platform on the largest possible stage, but I was being spoiled a little as well. Not much, not for very long, but it was nice while it lasted.
Before Aimee and I flew over to Chicago, a lovely producer called Kirsten came to London to meet us. She then returned with a production crew and spent five days filming in our house, at Dr Laine’s, out and about, just capturing our normal daily lives. She even smuggled a hand-held video camera into TGI Friday’s when we went there for Aimee’s thirteenth birthday.
I knew Oprah was big news but even I was impressed by the lengths Kirsten went to get her shots. She decided it would look good if all the personalities’ artworks were displayed together, with me standing, being interviewed, in the middle. It was a nice day so she led us into the garden.
‘Perfect,’ she said.
‘How are you going to hang the pictures, though?’ I asked, thinking we could put one or two on the shed wall.
‘We need easels,’ Kirsten replied matter-of-factly. A second later she was on the phone. Hardly any time at all had gone by when a car arrived with as many easels as we needed. Absolutely amazing. I’ve waited longer than that for take out.
Clearly money was no object, as I was to discover further. With the paintings arranged like my own private exhibition – they really looked beautiful, I think, as you can see on the programme – Kirsten interviewed me. Every so often we’d have a pause when the soundman wearing large earphones detected an aeroplane or a car in the distance. Once the disturbance had passed he’d give a signal and off we’d go again. Action!
Our road’s pretty quiet, so there weren’t many cars interrupting us. But when a pneumatic drill started from the construction site round the corner, I thought, That’s the end of this idea. We’ll have to continue indoors.
Once again I doubted the power of television. Kirsten went over to one of the crew and handed him a handful of bills.
‘Have a word with those guys,’ she said. ‘Suggest it’s time for a tea-break – preferably a long one.’
I couldn’t believe it. Ten minutes later we had blissful silence – for about half an hour. Then, Croydon being Croydon and builders being builders, I think word had got round. Before the afternoon was up she’d paid off about three different road crews who funnily enough all seemed to be in the area for the day.
With that level of attention to detail in London I was ready for a few surprises by the time we reached Chicago. I wasn’t disappointed. A sleek chauffeur-driven car took us from the airport to our lovely hotel and then Aimee was given $200 to go and buy a new outfit. Stupidly I’d already told them I had brought mine so I was kicking myself afterwards. Then once the show was over we were given expensive Oprah goody-bags. Aimee’s had a cute little teddy bear in it, which we thought was nice.
As for the show itself, it was over in a flash – and for once I couldn’t even blame switching. Even though we recorded lots more than was shown I still came away thinking, I wish I’d said that, I wish I’d told her this. The bits that stand out for me, though, are about Aimee. Watching her with the other personalities was so moving and then when Oprah brought her onto the set to be interviewed next to me I couldn’t have been prouder.
I don’t know if it was an American thing or whether it was Oprah herself driving it, but every time they showed a clip of Aimee with the personalities Oprah announced that it was my and Dr Laine’s decision to allow Aimee to know everything. I wondered if the producers were telling me off, really, or just covering themselves in case viewers were horrified by the sight of Aimee crying with Dawn and Bonny. I would defend that decision to the death. I want Aimee to know these personalities. Whether I like it or not, they’re as much part of her life as I am. What’s more, she wants to know them as well. She’s always asking to speak to different ones and she can’t spend enough time in our art room because there’s always someone working away in there.
I didn’t mind Oprah’s little caveat, although I was disappointed when a couple of viewers wrote to say Aimee seemed lost and abandoned when she was crying on stage. They didn’t see me lean over to cuddle her because those moments were edited out for time reasons.
What really concerned me, however, was when another guest on the show, the adult daughter of a woman with DID who’d died recently, was asked if she had any advice for Aimee. She had three words: ‘Support your mother.’
Aimee and I were sitting in the audience by this stage. If we hadn’t been I’d have leapt up to answer that. I’ve got support workers and therapists to support me. Aimee’s my daughter, not my caretaker. She deserves the childhood this body was so brutally denied. It’s my job to love and raise her to the best of my abilities, not to depend on her. She’s a child, for goodness’ sake!
It was so frustrating not being able to reply. What’s more, sitting in the audience, the emotional magnitude of what I’d seen on film really hit me and I started to cry. Tears were streaming down my face and the last thing I wanted was to be seen crying when the rest of the audience was laughing at Oprah’s jokes. So I said to Aimee, ‘I need to get out of here. If it doesn’t finish soon I’ll have to walk.’ A moment later, Oprah walked to the other side of the stage and a crew member appeared at my elbow and led us out. I thought, Wow, they think of everything here.
I forgot we were still wearing microphones!
Someone in the director’s booth had heard every word.
If anything, having DID only makes us more determined to give Aimee the best life possible. She’s not just the number one priority in my life. All the personalities love her – especially Bonny and Hayley obviously – which is why birthdays and Christmases are so much fun. It’s not unusual for Aimee to get cards and presents from a dozen of us, depending on who’s around at the time. I do sometimes leave a note in the art room reminding people that the birthday is coming up, but they all shop for gifts themselves. I can’t complain, even when I see my money disappearing without my doing anything. After all, it’s Kim Noble’s name on the credit cards and cheque books, not mine. They’ve as much right as anyone to spend it.
The biggest compliment anyone can pay Aimee – or me – is that she seems like a normal kid – because she is! She likes too much TV, she leaves her homework much too late, she wants more pets in the house than I do – in other words she’s exactly the same as all her friends.
Ten, twenty, even thirty years ago my greatest ambition was to remember today more clearly than I remembered the previous one. Memory was always at the heart of my problems. I felt if I could recall exactly what had happened or what I’d done, then the myriad medics and interfering do-gooders wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on. They could bully me all they liked with their claims that I’d done this or said that and I would have been able to stand up and say, ‘No. This is what happened.’ I tried to do that anyway, of course, but there were always such gaps in recollection that even though I knew I was innocent I couldn’t prove it. I couldn’t usually even come up with a plausible alibi.
Three decades later I can’t believe how much my life has changed. I haven’t seen the inside of a hospital since God knows when and I’m not on any medication at all. To think how differently things could have turned out if Hayley hadn’t fought the schizophrenia diagnosis and not gone to a mental health tribunal. From what other people have told me, I’d probably still be a ward of court now. Once you’re on the slippery slope it’s hard to change direction.
But the psychotic shuffle wasn’t for me – or us. All the personalities were united on this, I think. We each, in our way, railed against the enforced medication. We schemed and plotted and lied and we refused to take the pills.
Hayley, again, has to take credit for the way she triumphed over the forces conspiring against her. She was the one subjected to the horrific acid and arson attacks. She saved us all. But the rest of us can take some reward. For every personality inclined to fall by the wayside or gi
ve in, there are many more who will come out fighting. I’m proud to feel that I am one of those.
Coming to terms with DID has obviously been the single largest moment of my life. As I’ve said, in many ways it would be more plausible to be informed I was from the planet Krypton or I was actually a character in a movie, like Jim Carrey in The Truman Show. But I hope I’ve repaid the body’s faith in me. I was always the personality who came out on social occasions, at parties, lunch hours, pubs or on dates. I was the one with the glass of white wine and the witty remark. Even after years of subjugation and experimentation at the hands of the medical establishment I never stopped smiling. I’m not exactly a tub-thumper like Hayley but I’m no quitter. Knock me down and I will get up – stronger and still smiling.
These are the qualities the body identified when it chose me as a dominant personality, the character traits that allowed me to establish and promote Kim Noble as an artist, to raise a young daughter despite towering opposition, and to even write this book. They’re the qualities that I hope anyone reading this who suffers from DID or knows someone with multiple personalities will take on board as well. If I can get this far in life, if I can keep so many plates spinning without the whole set crashing down, then anyone can. DID shouldn’t have to be the end of one life. It should be the beginning of many.
They’re also the qualities I hope to pass onto our daughter.
Having said how strong I’ve needed to be, there is one thing that scares me.
When Kim, Hayley and Bonny were our body’s dominant personalities, I only came out for an hour or two per day, if that. One by one those women faded into the background, however, until I took over the mantle of main alter. There are no rules where DID is concerned. What if that happened to me? What if I just began to fade away again?