Even When I'm Crazy

Warning: This isn't a pretty post. There's some touchy stuff involved and might be trigger-ish for some. I have an entry that I want to add on here and it refrences to situations like this. I am really reluctant to post this, but it helps prove my point in an upcoming post. So read at your own risk.

Last night, was a bad night. One of those nights where if my Love hadn't of been here, I probaly would of hurt myself. It started out normal. Yummy dinner. Vamp Diaries. Talk with my lil sis. Fun times on fet with my evil twin and her Daddy. Fetish rampage, with Daddy's help. Bed time with 74 spankies. Then lovey dovey cuddles.

Then, I loose time. One minute I am up checking on Bubz, the next I'm at the foot of the bed with Daddy on top of me, petting my head and snuggling me. I know where I went. But I have no idea what happened...in our bedroom.

Do I want to write this out? No, not really. But I never have before and maybe that will help to exorcise the demons. According to Daddy, last nights flip out wasn't a first. So, maybe this will help.

All I remember is Daddy laying beside me and some heavy petting. I felt the tingle and knew that I was slipping. Next thing I know I am in my old bedroom at Mom's. The one I had from 1st to 3rd grade. I'm all snuggled in my bed, but I can tell I'm not alone. There beside me, is my step-dad. Okay, so typing that out kinda freaked me out, but moving on. Instead of Daddy being the one doing the heavy petting, its the step dad. I don't like it and want it to stop. So I play dead, but it doesn't work. The petting moves from above clothes to under the panties. I don't like it, but still, playing dead is better than acknowledging what is happening. He climbs on top of me and whispers something in my ear. I don't know what he says even though I'm in that moment, it's mumbly and distant. Which is probably good that my head didn't bring in past comments made to me.

So it escalates from being in my pink and purple flowery nightgown, to the nightgown being pushed up under my chin and my panties down around one ankle. I know what's going to happen, it's happened before, so I try not to fight. "Because good girls don't fight what he is going to do. We don't want everyone else to know how special you are". Bleck, that is such a nasty little statement.

Then it switches. I am no longer that little girl, but the the young woman. The young woman, that stupidly married someone she didn't truly know. Someone who has no idea what "no, stop" truly means.

I'm laying in the bed that we shared. I say no, but no means absolutely nothing. He puts his hands on my throat and whispers, "you will fluffing give me what is my right. You stupid fluffing *runt!" I can feel his sweaty hands getting tighter and tighter. I can hear his heavy breathing. He moves one hand and points his finger in my face and says, "I can fluffing kill you. Remember that. Now take your fluffing clothes off. And do it fast."

Then I switch back to little girl, then back to young woman, and back and forth. All the while, adult me is watching this from a corner in the rooms. I watch as both girls breakdown. The little girl struggles and silently screams no over and over. The young woman starts offering her own threats. They fight, they don't win, but they fight. This goes on, the fly on the wall watching. For how long, I have no clue. But I am stuck watching these two scenes flip back and forth.

Then I feel him. He touches my cheek. He says something, but I can't hear it. My mind grabs onto that voice. My surroundings shift and blur. It gets dark. I can feel a strong arm around me, strong but comforting instead of controlling. I see, did I open my eyes? Were they closed? I don't remember, but I can see his hair. The walls are bright. I feel him rubbing my head. And there I am back in the bedroom we share. With my love. He is there and he is taking care of me. Little girl, young woman, and adult, they are all safe now, because he is there. My eyes have tears in them, I'm snotting like crazy, and my throat feels like I have been screaming for hours.

Apparently, I put up quite a fight. And yelled that I would fluffing kill him. But what did he do? He kept me from hurting myself in my thrashings and tried to talk me out of it.

This all, right here, is one of the reasons my Daddy has my heart. He loves me, even when I am going crazy. He provides that safe harbor when my past creeps up on me. Heals me with his love and support.