Anyway, Dan and I were over at the house of family friends. Their kids were a year younger than we were... Dennis was a year younger than Dan, Denise was a year younger than me... The parents were gone, it was just the four of us there. I don�t remember what Denise was doing. I remember that Dan and Dennis were �playing�.

Dennis had Dan in a choke hold. Dan started screaming hoarsely, as he couldn�t breathe. This, of course, drew my attention. Dennis kept Dan in a choke hold until Dan�s face was purple and his eyes were bugged out. Dan was hitting the floor to signify he was done. I was screaming at Dennis to let Dan go. Dennis was laughing. When I lunged forward, intent on seperating the two of them, Dennis would relase Dan and the two of them would laugh about it. After, of course, Dan was able to speak/laugh again.

I was in tears, frustrated, angry, furious. They did this again. And again. And again. Probably four times, maybe five, I don�t remember how many times. Dennis would choke Dan. Dan would scream, gasp, thump �attempt� to get away. Repeatedly, Dan would get purple... his eyes would bug out... he would snort and gasp and wheeze. He would thrash. I would scream and cry and try to get at Dennis to stop him from hurting my brother. Denise, if I remember correctly, kept telling me to ignore it, to let them do their thing. I couldn�t. I had to make sure Dan didn�t die. If Dan died, Mom would never forgive me.

That�s what was going through my head anyway.

Finally, after the fourth or fifth time, I had had enough. I wasn�t going to put up with it anymore. I came unglued. I lost it. I was pissed off beyond belief, both at Dennis and my brother for laughing at me each time, and at Dennis for doing it again and again and again. So, I went into the kitchen. I grabbed a large, chef�s knife. I went, with the knife in my hand, toward Dennis. I think I was screaming at him, loud, violent, deep-voiced screaming... yelling, actually... I remember yelling at him that I was going to kill him.

I don�t remember exactly how I was stopped. I know that Denise held me back. I think Dan did too, as Dennis ran away, laughing his ass off. He was laughing at me. Dan wasn�t laughing anymore. Denise wasn�t laughing.

And I was the one who was accused of being out of control. I was not allowed to return to that families home for a very, very long time. I was blamed. I was disciplined... Not by my parents, as the parents of Dennis and Denise never told my folks what had happened. I don�t remember if Dennis or Denise told them, I just don�t remember that part. I remember being so completely enraged. I remember having had enough. I remember intending to kill Dennis. Really kill him. I wanted to cut him, rip him apart. All in the name of defending my brother.

And Dennis and Dan were laughing at me. The parents of Denise and Dennis wouldn�t allow me in their home without my folks. They wouldn�t let their kids stay at our house. And I was silently shunned because I had weilded a knife against Dennis. If I�m not mistaken, the story to the parents was akin to �Jenny just went crazy while Dan and Dennis were wrestling.� I don�t remember though.

*shrugs*

So... I wore that. From that situation, I learned that regardless as to how I tried to defend my brother (who didn�t want to be defended), no matter whether I recognized his behavior was detrimental to his health or not, regardless as to who saw the scene... It would be my fault. If Dan died, it would be my fault. If Dennis died, it would be my fault. If Dan and Dennis fought with each other, it would be my fault. If I did nothing, I was an irresponsible failure. If I did everything I could, I would fail and it would still be my fault both that I failed and that the situation happened in the first place. And, on top of that, no matter what happened, no matter how the situation played out... I was to be the antagonist, victim and failure.

To this day I don�t know if the parents of those kids know what really happened. For that matter, I can�t honestly say that I remember what happened accurately. Maybe they were just playing. Maybe I imagined the purple face. Maybe I imagined the bulging eyes. maybe I imagined the desperation in my brother�s eyes. Maybe I imagined the terror on his face.

Then again, Maybe I didn�t.

Scream begets defensive response
defensive response triggers adrenaline rush
Adrenaline and desire to fix problem
Helplessness as can�t fight maternal parental unit [or whatever/whoever the antagonist is]
despair ensues

Yes, despair. Because I had no control and yet I believed I had to control it. What a deal, eh? The ultimate hopeless situation. And all before the age of 13. Yes, that whole situation with Dan and Dennis took place when I was about 12 or so. Maybe only 11. I don�t remember exactly.

There were many different instances of situations like that. Times on the play ground when I was still in grade school where Dan would taunt older kids into beating him up, then I would break in to try and help him and he would run away only to watch from a safe distance as I was beat up by three boys. Times when my brother would set himself up... taunting kids until they dared him to jump off the over pass. He doing so, then begging and pleading with me to tell Mom that he�d been pushed. He�d broken his ankle with that stunt. And I said he�d been pushed. *shakes her head*

Situations where he would yell and scream at people until they wanted to fight with him... but only when I was close enough to rescue him... And as soon as I stepped in to rescue him... he�d run away and watch as I was teased, taunted, humiliated, laughed at, beaten up. When I was going to be transfered to another school, due to my own status as persona-non-grata in grade school, Dan is the one who told people that I was going to be transfered to the new school. That�s when I started hearing, �Oh gross, fatty�s going to Moreland�s. They�re gonna have to widen the doors just so she can get in.� �No way, we don�t want fatty infecting that school too.� �Eeeww, she�s going to Moreland�s... she�s gonna destroy it.� �You�re so unlucky, you�re gonna have to ride the bus with it� (finger pointing to me) �God, no one�s safe anymore.�

And he would laugh. He would watch me and laugh. He was the one who pointed at me and said the �You�re so unlucky...� thing.

And every single time, I would jump in when he was being tormented. I would fight his battles for him. I would do everything I possibly could to keep him from getting hurt, in trouble, whatever. And nothing I ever did worked the way I wanted it to.

There was once, during my last year at that grade school (fifth grade for me), Dan was in sixth grade. He had pissed off a very tall sixth grade boy, a shorter fifth grade boy and a fifth grade boy. He ran past me, screaming. And here�s me, idiot of the month, facing down the big boy. He was probably a good foot taller than me. I told him not to mess with my brother. He laughed at me and I don�t remember if he swung at me or not, but I swung at him. He jerked away, pointing at me as kids drew closer. �Don�t touch me. I won�t be infected by you.� I was crying, angry, frustrated. The other two kids ran up and started punching me. I fought back as well as I could, but every time I tried to punch, they would skitter out of the way, laughing and taunting saying that I couldn�t infect them if I couldn�t touch them.

The final straw came when I looked out to the kids gathered around, all of them seemed to be laughing and pointing. And I saw Dan, laughing at me, pointing at me and grinning with this.... wicked grin. He was laughing so hard he almost couldn�t breathe. And I saw two of the guys with whom he�d picked the fight standing at either side of him, one clapped him on the shoulder, like a congratulatory gesture... and they were laughing and pointing...

I felt so completely worthless. So useless. Here I was, it was my responsibility to keep him alive. It was my job, my duty in life, to make sure he didn�t do anything stupid... And I failed. Every single time. I couldn�t stop him from doing stupid things. Not only that, but I couldn�t stop myself from biting. When he screamed, I responded the way I was �supposed� to. I bit. I followed the lead. I did everything I possibly could to rescue him from the hell of his own creation. And I always, always, always got tangled up in the net he laid for me. Every single time.

I didn�t stop caring. I didn�t stop trying. Not until much, much later.

But I stopped paying attention to me... to reality. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was.

When we moved away from there, I thought I had found heaven. We moved to a place about four miles from a small town. Very, very rural. There weren�t any people from whom I had to defend my brother.

Well, that�s not exactly true... but to begin with, there wasn�t really anything from which I had to defend him. And, even when life was bad around the house, I had an escape. I got to ride my neighbor�s horse. And that meant I got to spend time alone, riding along, free, unfettered, with no more responsibility than to make sure the horse didn�t stumble in a gopher hole.

*sighs*

I need to stop this now... too much... don�t want to think about it anymore.

I�ll come back to this eventually though.

Know this... I�m okay. I have grown up a hell of a lot since those years. I know how to not take responsibility for someone else�s actions. And I know how to not take someone else�s emotions/thoughts/ideas on as my own. It took me a long time to get there, but I�m there now, and I�m getting better about it every day.

I don�t rush in to be the co-dependant hero anymore. But I still get that little twinge and the thought... �Defend. You are the protector. You are the only one who can save that helpless waif� Most often the �helpless waif� is older, stronger and more experienced than am I.

I�ll dive into this again and figure more things out as per my history and how my history has helped shape the person I am now. But for the time being, this is enough to fill a few different text books. I�ll leave it at that.

IF any of you are psych or Soc students and wish to have me as a case study, just Email me and I�ll answer all the questions you have. *grins*

Who knows? I could be your �A� paper. *smirks*