If It Weren't For Me, He Would Already Be Dead

If it weren't for me Andy would already be dead. He'd have been killed by an undiagnosed allergy, angry dogs, undercooked chicken, or wasps.

Andy, he’s carefree, a joker, intelligent, creative, well not if I can help it!

As he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth and lamenting the loss of the youthful elasticity in his skin, he makes eye contact with his reflection, groans, and then quickly looks away. I stand behind him, “You're getting on a bit old man, who's going to fancy that now eh?” I can tell he agrees but doesn't reply, he rarely does. When he does it's usually a jovial “piss off, or shut it!”. It's banter, at least I think it is. 

We spend a lot of time together, if I feel he needs me, I can be there at the drop of a hat. I like to think we are friends, but sometimes I don't feel appreciated. I am behind all the decisions that keep him safe, without me he would have hit that deer on the road, veered off, and died in an upturned car, luckily I make sure he slows down and covers the brakes before driving the tight bend. The deer wasn't there, that time, but no matter. Without me he would have been beaten to death by drunken men as he walked home from a night out, luckily I convinced him not to go out at all.

Without me he would sit facing the wall in a restaurant, leaving him unable to see the masked gunman burst in and demand the till get emptied into a bag. “Sit in the corner facing out,” I say in his ear, “you can't trust anyone here”.

The first time Andy was left alone as a baby all those years ago taught me a valuable lesson and since then, I've never let him experience that trauma again. I was learning how to do this as he grew up, now though, I'm an expert. As soon as I see the kinks in any of his relationships, I get to work. I point out these tiny little cracks in the wall, I remind him that this is just the tip of the iceberg, I tell him that he's not good enough, not worthy, and that this person will soon realise this and kick him to the curb. I know it makes him depressed but the alternative is not worth risking. We, sorry I mean ‘he’ must get in first and walk away. Luckily this is when I get most control and his mind is easy to drive away from danger. I am aware that this is when he hates me the most, but what sort of a friend would I be if I let him walk into difficulties? 

I’m invisible to all, my presence is felt only through my actions. Andy's life is relatively uncomplicated and trouble-free, I mean, alright, yes it is small, but it's safe. And that's all thanks to me. The trick I've learned is making him believe that these snippets of advice/help that influence his decisions are his idea, and they don't come from me at all. He is one of the lucky ones, not everyone is blessed with such a steadfast, understanding, and helpful friend. 

I’m also the gatekeeper to his mind. His mind is delicate, he knows it, I know it, he knows that I know it, and I know that he knows that I know. I won't let him forget it. it requires constant maintenance. Feelings of peace, confidence, and joy, will not be tolerated for long. They will corrupt him absolutely and can lead to a severe lack of under-thinking. This underthink will leave him exposed, underprepared, and ultimately in danger. After all, we have no idea where the next threat is coming from, do we? 

When Andy was a baby, he was relinquished by his birth mother and put into the care system before being adopted. I’m sure his birth family had their reasons for giving him up as the 1970s was a difficult time and I guess there were very few options for mothers with children such as him. I was born not long after, His new parents loved him, and kept him safe, so I stayed back and watched from the shadows, biding my time. Now Andy is an adult, it's my turn to keep him safe. He has lived alone for 10 years, more or less. That was my idea, He is better off that way. 

My genius is the creation of foreshadowing, I sit back and watch his life, his interactions, his social life, his relationships, and his work. I watch him get a little bit too hyper, a little bit too confident. He starts making jokes, being slightly too loud, and believing he’s capable. I tap him on the shoulder, remind him to use his indoor voice, remind him that he doesn't have the personality or skill to be too vocal, or cocky, he's not funny or clever, and if he’s not careful he is soon going fall into the ‘annoying’ category around others. This situation usually ends up with him feeling embarrassed and exposed. If he's shut down, he's safe. 

Andy has had his fair share of ups and downs, these are usually a result of times when he tries to ignore my advice, It's often difficult to get him around to my way of thinking, but I know how he ticks, I know which buttons to press. It's not long before he sees things the right way, my way.

People in Andy’s life will come and go, but I am loyal, I have a job, to protect him from loss. I am the only one he can count on, I won't let him down. Who am I? I’m sorry … how rude, I didn't introduce myself did I? 

I’m the vines that grew from the cracks in the foundations of his adoption trauma. A grew around every cognitive brick he laid, he created me but is totally unaware. I’m so intertwined in his mind, that he barely hears my voice. However, he feels my will, together we will survive. He is nothing without me, and deep down he knows I am right. 

He calls me ‘Brian’. And If it weren't for me Andy would already be dead … Wouldn’t he?

Photo by paola capelletto on Unsplash