Dealing with surviving the home invasion

I just spent 2 hours in the bath overcome by memories of my past. These memories are a part of me, why I am who I am today, but sometimes I wonder just who that is. Usually I can reclaim these memories twisting them into something enjoyable and get off on them, but sometimes that backfires, like today.

Laying in the bath I remembered an incident when my son was about 6 months old. We lived in an apartment not far from who we thought was his dad (yeah, long story). Someone knocked on the door a little before my alarm went off, early morning. I went to the door thinking either it was my ex or someone at the wrong door. The peep hole sucked as they usually do and I couldn’t decipher if it was my ex and his friend or not so I asked who it was. Someone said their name and that they were looking for JC. My dumbass cracked the door to tell them that J is 2 doors down…they forced their way in gun and all.

Up against the wall one told me to take off my shirt (it was all that covered me aside from panties). I’m not sure if I tried to distract them with talk or if I just stood there, but I do remember my alarm going off and my dread as my son awoke. They were distracted, demanding to know who’s there and fully on guard. Finally they let me get my son who was in my bed and I sat cuddling him as they paced. I don’t know what all they were doing probably filling a bag, but eventually I came out to make a bottle…I never sat my son down the entire time.

God is great and guided me, my words and all. I didn’t know these guys, but I knew them. Gangstas, gone off the wet, and I knew what color they claimed which narrowed down what set they were. I had an idea that my old roommate, ex, and friends might know them too. I dropped my friends street names casually as they fit into conversation, thinking maybe they were from the same set. I had to let them know I’m not a threat, make them see me as a someone who should be protected instead of an outsider. I tried to give them an out before any damage or irreversible crime was truly committed…leave before it’s too late.

It worked on one of them. He actually told the other they shouldn’t be there, something about me being down or a friend of _ set (yes, they knew the names even though my friends didn’t know them by name). Unfortunately the other one was too gone off the wet to care, he was on a mission with a crazed look in his eye and he was the one calling the shots. The nicer one never left me alone with the crazy one after that.

Like I said, God is great. It felt like hours but was probably less than a half before they left. There was one moment that truly scared me more than when they first burst in, it was when crazy joined us all in my son’s room. Things weren’t going as planned for him. Most of my belongings were still packed in boxes, his friend wasn’t helping much, and knowing what I know now things weren’t where they should be outside either. He was losing it, at one point pointed the gun toward my son and I and started talking about fvcking me, ordering me to take his friend to the bed. Somehow the nicer one intervened distracting him. Not long later they were leaving, crazy ordering me to count to (I forget how high) before calling the police and the other one apologizing. They left me utterly confused and scared they would come back busting through my windows, but after a few minutes I called the police and then my job.

I won’t go into the trial following all of this, nor will I speak more on their sentencing etc. but I will say that there is no 6 degrees of separation when you date/associate with specific populations…in my case it’s more like 3 degrees if your lucky. Mr. crazy reached out to me before trial through his kin folk whom I had just started seeing. Yeah…

What messes me up about all of this is not the fact that it happened or that I couldn’t stop it, but that I have fvcked up emotions and fantasies about it. From the moment I saw him I was attracted to the nice one. I wanted him to walk out the door so we could talk again another time. When he told me he wished we had met under different circumstances I wanted to say “you and me both” while a twisted piece of me was like “it’s not too late sugar.” Who thinks like that?!?! Yeah, I have issues…like I said, at that time in my life these were my type of guys, my people, even the crazy one. But Mr. Nice never manned up enough to ever deserve me.

So I spent 2 hours in the bath reliving it all plus some, feeling grimy because I found myself wondering and borderline fantasizing what would happen if crazy and nice had raped me. Worse yet I even entertained using sex to manipulate the whole situation and then a fantasy grew from that. I couldn’t enjoy it though because under it all I felt extremely blessed to survive the whole thing and lose little, I was so scared they’d rape me or to call police because it could lead to my son getting harmed. For me to fantasize or retain any other action felt like a slap in the face to God and the blessed outcome and help  during this horrible event.

What is wrong with me!?! I know it’s normal try to own uncontrollable events, but this is crazy! No part of me enjoyed the situation or wanted to be trapped so why even consider this crap soooo many years later??

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