Wow, so today was a day of discovery. Yeah, okay, so no one else is as interested in this as am I. So what? I never said that I was here to provide the masses with enduring entertainment. *smirks* Yeah, okay, so we all know that�s what I want to do...

Fine, I�ll just get on with it.

While I was at work this morning, my boss� husband yelled at her; very loudly. I heard something/someone hit the side of the house. I don�t know if he shoved her, threw something, tripped over something... I don�t know what the thump was, but it sounded like something getting thrown against the side of the house. My initial reaction was fear. Just gut level, I felt fear racing through me. I wanted to hide. Within about a milisecond, I wanted to rush out there and stand all big and defensive between my boss and her husband. I felt a surge of protectiveness... defense... as if it were my responsibility to make sure she wasn�t hurt.

I realized this and quickly scribbled some things down on paper. I�m going to type those things verbatim and then I�m going to disect them a little; and my own remembered reactions/thoughts/feelings.

I feel an intense and gut-level reaction to defend the children

Anyone who is being yelled at - but I think it was/is prompted by my PTSD

Due to what I witnessed throughout childhood.

Dan�s screams rending my heart-
That�s also where my despization of whiners/liars comes from -
Scream begets defensive response
defensive response triggers adrenaline rush
Adrenaline and desire to fix problem
Helplessness as can�t fight maternal parental unit
despair ensues

Natural need to protect weaker
unable to defend against parent
required to defend/protect
unable/not allowed to
helpless against parents/situation
screams are fake
still prompt reaction
birth of �Fuck up your life whatever way you want to�
Dennis and Dan, purple face - bulging eyes
Homicidal rage
laughing
Helpless again

Hate fakers cause response happens, regardless
don�t like being helpless.

I feel an intense and gut-level reaction to defend the children

the underdog, those weaker/seemingly weaker -- I have this internal need to make sure that anyone I perceive as being weaker than I (whether they are or aren�t) is protected, defended, championed. I think this comes from being so very young, first grade-ish, and being told to make sure my brother didn�t get in trouble on any given day. I remember hearing my mother speaking those words to me. Her voice was desperate, helpless, frustrated. �Just make sure he doesn�t get in trouble today.�

My brother was a year and about nine months older than I. He was one grade ahead of me. Being the serious child I was, I took on this responsibility believing I had to develop the skill to succeed.

The adult in me knows that the task was impossible. The adult in me knows that Mom did not really expect me to do the impossible, but wanted only to know that he wasn�t going to do something else stupid. Actually, I don�t know what Mom�s expectations were. As the adult, I understand that whatever I thought her expectations were, they were completely unreasonable; and her expectations are completely irrelivant as it�s not her psyche I�m now dealing with.

My expectations are what I need to concentrate on here. I believed, in my childhood, that it was my responsibility to keep Dan out of trouble. I believed that it was my duty to make him into a �real� human being. I had absolutely no understanding, whatsoever, of personal responsibility or limitations. I set the job for myself, of keeping him alive day after day. And I felt I failed in that every single day. Talk about the ultimate Don Quixote complex. Yes, I set myself up, through being naive and innocent (hell, I was 6 years old) to fail day after day after day.

I took on the responsibility of keeping my brother alive and out of trouble. I remember being told, �I know I got you to keep Dan alive.� The adult in me knows what my Mother meant. She meant that I had been a gift to her, so that she would know what a healthy child was like... I was the stress relief. I was the child who was �normal�. At least, it started that way. I was the kid who didn�t need to be corrected every ten minutes. I was the �good� child. I was the kid who didn�t push her to the point of physical violence on a daily basis.

What I understood as a child, however, was that it was my responsibility to make sure Dan didn�t get in trouble. That it was my fault if he did. (And he invariably did.) It was my responsibility to make sure he didn�t get yelled at, slapped around... It was my responsibility to keep him from doing something wrong.

But, that�s impossible. I realize that now, as an adult. I realize that I can not stop someone from doing something wrong. I can not make someone else do, say or be something they won�t/aren�t. I couldn�t as a child and I still can�t now. But, what�s more, I don�t want to.

===I think about this in relation to my friend who has been suicidal as of late. What I want to communicate to him... No. What I sub-consciously have been trying to tell him is, �Don�t put me in the position of care taker. I refuse to be the reason you�re still alive.� But why do I want to tell him that? Because I can�t do it. I will fail. Why? Because I am not him. If I am not him, I can�t make him do or be anything he doesn�t want to do or be. Likewise, I can�t make him not do or be something he wants to do or be.

Yes, I know that�s getting a little muddled, but the words are flowing and I won�t stop them.

Why do I need him to know that I won�t accept responsibility for his life/choices? Because when he does what he wants to do, if it�s something I would counsel against, I will feel like a failure. I will feel helpless. I will feel like I failed, just like I failed every time with my brother. Just like I failed with everyone I�ve ever tried to control in that way.

And why does that bother me? Because I don�t like feeling like a failure. I don�t like falling back into my life when I was in grade school. I don�t want to go back there and realize that now, at 31 years old, I�m just as helpless and useless as I was then. (useless is not used as a value judgement on who and what I am. Useless is used here only in the context of changing someone else�s motivations/actions)

So, when I told my friend that he had/has to take responsibility for his own life, what I was really saying was �don�t make me responsible because I don�t want to fail myself.� Which is interpreted to mean... �I can�t handle the pain of failing again, so I won�t even start the process.�

The adult reaction is healthy. The reason for the action is unhealthy. That means I have to understand my motivations... this is the new truth/realization/revelation I�ve had today; a look into the motivation behind my thoughts/feelings/ideas/desires/actions.===

Anyone who is being yelled at - but I think it was/is prompted by my PTSD ==Due to what I witnessed throughout childhood.

My PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) stems from the multiple years of feeling responsible for my brother�s life, failing that responsibility and then listening/witnessing the yelling, screaming, beating.

There were so many times when Mom and Dan and I would be sitting around as a family and Dan would just go off. He would refuse to do something, or he would do something wrong and Mom would try to correct him. She always, always started with normal correction; a look, a word, a glance, a shake of the head, something minor like that. He would ignore it. She would go a step further. He would ignore it. She would raise her voice, speaking sharply, or reach out to give him a two-fingered-slap on the back of the hand/wrist... something harmless. And he would most often both ignore the correction and do the thing he wasn�t supposed to do; as if he wanted to spite her.

===As the adult, I realize that he was broken. The brain functions that taught/learned cause and effect, didn�t work (still don�t as far as I know). It�s like requiring the can opener to cook your food like the microwave does. It simply isn�t capable of doing so. Just like that, my brother was simply incapable of learning cause and effect. There were other problems as well, but that was the most important one.===

Regardless; After he would do the thing again, as if to spite her, she would get frustrated. The situation devolved into yelling (by Mom) and screaming (by Dan). Dan would scream, not a scream of frustration or anger or rage. He would scream as if someone had grabbed him by the chest, punched through his chest, and pulled his heart out through the broken ribs, then crushed it in their fist. He would scream this way before Mom ever touched him. If she looked like she was going to reach out to grab him, he would let out this blood curdling scream. If she got up or moved toward him, he would jerk away from her, screaming like this, and run away.

This action on his part usually resulted in his jerking away from her and smacking the wall with an elbow, knee, wrist, something. Once he tried jerking away from her, screaming bloody murder, and turned. He tripped on his untied shoe lace and did a face-plant into the sliding glass door. He hit his forehead on the solid surface. Mom reached out to grab his arm in what I believe was an attempt to pull him back away from the door (so he wouldn�t cut his face to hell if the glass broke). She wasn�t able to get a hand on him because even before he had finished the impact against the glass, he twisted his body sideways, lurched pseudo forward and jerkily lurched around her. He looked dizzy or disoriented. I think I was about 7.