It's ALWAYS Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy!

In many ways Jimmy still remained and only child even after my birth. My mother was sickened over my brother's mysterious, and abrupt emotional and developmental "shut down." She started to sink into deep denial, and who can blame her? Denial is so much better than the real thing. She prayed a lot and clung onto her faith. She never stopped believing Jimmy would one day, no doubt be miraculously better. She also interpreted her epiphany as a message that like Virgin Mary, she too would have a special son.
My father routinely went to the office daily from 7am-7pm. It was his escapism. His inability to cope with my brother put a horrible strain on their relationship. My mother felt abandoned and my father felt trapped. They had a complete role reversal. Often arguments ensue throughout the day for various reasons. It could be as small as not passing the salt to as big as neglecting something of dire importance. There was ALWAYS screaming in our house. Partially because we're Greek and it's in our nature and partly because everyone was ready to snap at any given moment. Walking on eggshells was the only way we walked. The only time it was quiescent was when we were eating, except for my father who LOVED to tell long winded stories with his mouth open. It really spun my mother into the Tasmanian devil when spit flew all over the table. That was ALWAYS a lesson NEVER learned and an inevitable dinner battle, which usually resulted with my father stomping from the dinner table and refusing to eat! The other time we had peace in the house was when we all went to sleep....when we could sleep. My father had insomnia and usually ingested a bottle of sleeping pills to knock himself out. After a month he built a tolerance and would usually retreat to the kitchen at midnight and challenge himself to eating everything in our fridge. Jimmy, also started developing interrupted sleeping patterns. He was wide awake ALL night. This took a toll on my mother who insisted on staying up with him in effort to monitor his every move. He seemed to be regressing and progressing simultaneously. this made my mother insane with confusion. My mother exhausted herself exerting every ounce of her energy on my brother. I was never neglected as a baby or child, but Jimmy was ALWAYS the priority, not more important, simply more in need. Eventually this plagued my mother with guilt. She wanted me to have a playmate to keep me company. A year and a half after I was born my sister, Joanna was introduced to the family. She looked like an angel, but had the misleading etiquette of Mussolini. In fact, that was her nick name. The minute she could spit out a word, she started bossing me around. She wasted no time marking her territory. My mother found it endearing and encouraged her demanding, bratty behavior. In fact, she praised it. It was evident she was the baby in the family, and true to their reputation she was SPOILED! It didn't take long to realize that my mother's good intentioned plan of gracing me with a playmate, turned out to be tormenting me with a Warden. Unfortunately, my mother was too nervous to even notice. If she heard us fighting, she would simply encourage us to get along with a spanking. Growing up, my biggest fear manifested into reality...I was officially Jan Brady, my sister was Cindy Brady, and I think we can guess who Marcia Brady was. It was ALWAYS Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy!