" It seems like someone new is here?"
I nodded.
"Is it okay to talk to you?"
I nodded again.
"Are you the one who doesn't like the grocery store?
"Yes," came the same soft voice.
"What is it about the grocery store?"
"It's not the store; it's the people. We get scared that some big person is going to hurt us. So we don't let her go places where there are lots of people."

I felt dizziness in my head and then a different voice—a little stronger but still young—came out: "And then there's all that noise. We won't let her go in places with too much noise."
"Is there someone new here?"
"Yes."
Is it okay if we talk together?"
"Yes."
"What's the problem with the noise?"
"It was always noisy. A lot of yelling and crying. There was too much going on."
"Is that the same kind of problem, the other part has?"
"Yes. It's too hard for her to watch everyone to figure out who is going to hurt us next."
"Don't you think Olga can take care of you?"
"We want to think that, but we aren't sure."
"Why is that?"
"Because she couldn't take care of us before."
"Do you all know what year it is?"
"1968?"
"Oh, I see. No, it's 1996, and Olga is big now. You all live inside her, and she has learned about you. She is also learning how to stop people from hurting you. She is strong and powerful. Were you there when she stopped the woman in the office from yelling at you?"
It's 1996? She's big?" I paused to let the information sink in to all the parts that were listening. "She stopped people from yelling at us?"
"Yes." Dr. Summer watched and waited. Home had been so chaotic. I had to watch Popi, Mike, Alex, and my mom very carefully. But I don't live there anymore. I'm grown up now. "

― Olga Trujillo , The Sum of My Parts: A Survivor's Story of Dissociative Identity Disorder