The Clash Inside Me by John Mondragon

Author:John Mondragon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Mondragon
Published: 2021-05-29T21:41:55+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

DIAGNOSIS

As you would suspect, my family life has been a bit unusual.

Once a formal diagnosis was rendered, my parents began treating me differently. They were not in agreement about what to do with me. To say the least, it made our household very chaotic.

My mother was a pragmatic person. She looked at every situation in a businesslike way, set a goal for the outcome, and then operated in the most efficient manner until the goal was met. This particular situation did not fit her standard operating mode, so it completely threw her for a loop. For about two weeks after Dr. Lambert told us about the DID, she was continually weepy and depressed. She walked on eggshells around me all the time, apparently fearing that if she so much as looked at me sideways, a raging beast would be unleashed.

As a result, I felt guilty, and I tried to stuff that guilt away by acting as “normal” as possible. I went out of my way to be kind to my brothers and to be as helpful and cooperative around the house as I could. It worked for a while, easing the tension somewhat, but aside from the DID, I was a typical adolescent, so being on my best behavior had its limitations. And it wasn’t long before my brothers realized that they could trot out some truly bratty behavior toward me and get away with it.

I have since come to learn that repressed feelings always make their way to the surface somehow, and in my case, the alternate personality was the main conduit. As time wore on, it became increasingly difficult to keep him at bay. I relied on my mom to help me. When my vision would start to turn pink, I would go straight to her, just as I had when we were keeping the journal for Dr. Lambert. She would go into action mode, sending my brothers outside to play or to their rooms for safety. Frequently that was all it took to disrupt the anger cycle. Simply giving me space was an effective deterrent. When that began to lose its potency, she bought me a punching bag. We installed it in the garage, and the steady tattoo of my fists—thump-a-thump-a-thump—became part of the rhythm of our lives. If I was punching the bag, my family knew not to interrupt and that all would be well shortly.

My brothers took it in stride. It has never been clear to me if my condition was explained to them—it didn’t happen in my presence, if it occurred at all. I think they just accepted that as their older brother, it was my job to make their lives miserable. In turn, they perceived it as their job to poke the bear, and they were very diligent in their efforts. Prior to my seeing the doctor, my brothers would do the things little brothers do, like stealing my comic books, eating the last cookie, arguing over the TV channel—and they could expect swift and sure retribution.

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