Feo Takahari
Auror
I'm considering writing a character with dissociative identity disorder and some comorbid issues. For narrative reasons, his background would be a bit unusual--I don't know of any real-world cases that precisely match what's going on in his head. I'm currently struggling with two competing arguments for how to approach this character:
#1: Write mental illness as part of writing the character's mind, or risk descending into stereotype. I knew from the start what sort of character I wanted, a rationalist atheist with a chip on his shoulder and a stubborn refusal to give up against overwhelming odds. Looked at with no concern for the diagnoses, his attitudes "make sense"--he's so logical because he was created as a way of bringing order and sense to a completely irrational home life, and he's so bitter because he wasn't able to save the innocent child personality he shared a head with. So what if he's incredibly unusual in regard to the real-world diagnosis? He's a person, not a DSM entry.
#2: Write mental illness as you would write physical illness, or you're not really writing illness at all, you're just making your character "cool." Albino readers complain all the time about albino snipers who have zero problems with sunburns and are basically just healthy folks with a coat of paint over them. And George R.R. Martin has expressed regret for having a character with achondroplasia perform impressive acrobatics, because that realistically wouldn't be possible with the condition. In the same vein, if I'm writing a character who supposedly has DID, but doesn't have borderline personality disorder, doesn't engage in self-harm, isn't prone to fantasy, and generally lacks most of the traits associated with DID, am I really writing about DID at all?
So what do you think? How much rope can I give myself before I'm just hanging myself with it?
P.S. I'm ignoring that whole "DID is a scam created by evil therapists!" conspiracy theory. I post on the same site as an alter who's a successful writer, and he doesn't take it well when people think he's a symptom of mental illness and want to speak to the "real person."
#1: Write mental illness as part of writing the character's mind, or risk descending into stereotype. I knew from the start what sort of character I wanted, a rationalist atheist with a chip on his shoulder and a stubborn refusal to give up against overwhelming odds. Looked at with no concern for the diagnoses, his attitudes "make sense"--he's so logical because he was created as a way of bringing order and sense to a completely irrational home life, and he's so bitter because he wasn't able to save the innocent child personality he shared a head with. So what if he's incredibly unusual in regard to the real-world diagnosis? He's a person, not a DSM entry.
#2: Write mental illness as you would write physical illness, or you're not really writing illness at all, you're just making your character "cool." Albino readers complain all the time about albino snipers who have zero problems with sunburns and are basically just healthy folks with a coat of paint over them. And George R.R. Martin has expressed regret for having a character with achondroplasia perform impressive acrobatics, because that realistically wouldn't be possible with the condition. In the same vein, if I'm writing a character who supposedly has DID, but doesn't have borderline personality disorder, doesn't engage in self-harm, isn't prone to fantasy, and generally lacks most of the traits associated with DID, am I really writing about DID at all?
So what do you think? How much rope can I give myself before I'm just hanging myself with it?
P.S. I'm ignoring that whole "DID is a scam created by evil therapists!" conspiracy theory. I post on the same site as an alter who's a successful writer, and he doesn't take it well when people think he's a symptom of mental illness and want to speak to the "real person."