Rescue Me

Thursday evening I’m lying on my stomach on the couch in the den, holding my breath as BabyMan takes a cool, damp towel and lays it on my red, swollen behind.

I let out a sigh through my lips that turns into a whistle.  “Do you see steam rising from my butt?” I ask.

He smiles. “No, but I think I heard a slight sizzling sound”

“I’m really sorry,” I say again for what seems like the hundredth time. The first ninety-nine had been while I was over his knee begging him not to use the bath brush on me. Apparently he didn’t listen.

“I know” he says as he rubs his fingers through my hair.  “It’s okay.”

Great.  Now it's okay.

What had gotten me to this place? The only thing I can imagine is that my hormones turned on me again, and provoked a rage that caused me to lash out at the very best friend I’ve ever had. The depression came upon me so quickly that I woke Wednesday morning feeling bitter, irritated, and even mean-spirited. I spoke to him through angry tears as I tried not to take it out on him, knowing full well he didn’t deserve my wrath. He hadn’t hurt me. Someone else had. Someone who’s opinion was not important to me, someone who’s views I didn’t even respect. Usually I can brush off the words of a person who means nothing to me as insignificant and worthless, but this time it was different. My hormones betrayed me and turned my rational thoughts to crazy deep dark cavernous paranoid speculation. Inside I was out of control… sad, fearful, disquieted and inconsolable.

To his credit, he tried. He knew that “coming in to get me” was in all likelihood my ticket out of the abyss, and before he left for work he ordered me to prop myself up on pillows to take a painful and usually effective paddling for a jolt of reality. As he spanked me with the paddle, he spoke softly and gently to me, trying to convince me that what I was experiencing was only an illusion, and not only was this person essentially non existent, but I was loved, cherished, and worthy, and the only opinion I should be interested in is God's.

I listened, but didn’t hear. He told me that to gain more endorphins I was to make sure that I got to the gym for my workout (“I’m taskin’ you on this one, Sugar,”) and spend a good deal of the day taking care of myself. He told me to do my hair , nails, makeup, give myself a facial, find a new recipe for dinner, (I always enjoy that) wear something girlie that shows off my figure, get out in the sunshine, spend some time on the beach… whatever it took.

I cried - sobbed, really - from a combination of the pain and his generous kindness that I just knew I didn’t deserve. When he left, I found myself sleeping and then waking a couple of hours later with certainly enough physical strength to get out of bed, but not the emotional strength. And there I remained until BabyMan returned some 9 hours later.

When he saw that I hadn’t moved a muscle all day, I knew that he was disappointed and irritated that I disobeyed him on absolutely everything that we had talked about that morning.  This would normally be a spankable offense, but sometimes when he knows I’m going through the valley of depression he’ll find another way to deal with it. The last time I was feeling down and hadn’t finished a task, he took me out to one of our favorite restaurants for dinner. He hugged me and held me and kissed me and wouldn’t allow me to hide in the dark place until I was smiling and laughing and talking a blue streak.  The reality is, that no matter how he chooses to handle it, he's the only ne in my life who's been able to pull me back into the sunlight. 

But this time was different. He stood at the foot of the bed and asked me if there was anything he could do for me.

“No” I said.

And that was that. He retreated into the living room, turned on American Idol, and there he stayed for the rest of the evening.  He just left me. I needed him, and he just left me!

 I cried myself back to sleep.


To be continued…