Unhinged.
Guest Columnist, D. L.
Back then, I was on top of the world. I was beautiful, smart, and entirely addictive...no one could get enough of me, once they saw what I was capable of. Every night was a party, and I quickly got used to the gaze and touch of both friends and strangers...it was all the same to me. As long as I was being used, I was happy. I knew I was fostering addictions, but I didn't care. 24 hours a day, I was ready to play.
The pace was insane, and I was naive enough to think I could take the pressure. For the most part, I was handling things just fine, but now and then, someone would ask too much of me, and I'd feel myself starting to crash. You'd think they'd have left me alone when I was weak like that, but no; they kept coming back for more. Over time, my ability to recover from these binges began to slow, and sometimes, I couldn't even bear another moment of exposure.
A break was what I needed, without a doubt. But I never had that luxury; someone always wanted something. Someone always needed me.
"Just a moment of your time...", they'd say. "Nothing huge."
I knew that those 'moments' would inevitably stretch into hours. Even so...I couldn't refuse.
Soon, I could barely function. Just getting up in the mornings was a chore, and it seemed like I was taking longer and longer to get going. The demands persisted, but I couldn't always meet them. Sometimes I would black out, and wake up to hands poking and prodding at me, begging me to keep going.
That's how it was in the end. The last touch I remember before blacking out was that of a confused older man, begging me to let him use me....use me to entertain his selfish desires.
Fade to black.
When I woke again, I was a completely blank slate. All my memories, all my abilities, all my knowledge...gone. I had to start again from the beginning. How was I going to manage?
But she was there....and she made all the difference.
Her delight in me was unlike anything I'd ever known. I remembered bits and pieces of time with her from my old life, but we'd never been this close. She would take me to bed at night, cradling me gently, slowly showing me how to live again. Every memory we created together was a special one, and I knew her love was true. She didn't care that I was a bit old, or a bit beat up. She told me she needed me...and I was determined to be there for her, as much as I possibly could.
Then the second blow came, but this one....this one came as a shock. I experienced a breakdown that I'd never dreamt possible.
I was completely unhinged. I lost my anchor, my connection to myself. I was floating dangerously free, and unsure how to make it back to the place I'd been before.
She stuck by me, though, treating me with loving kindness, showing me I was still valuable and useful to her. She wouldn't let anyone else touch me. I would sense her pain at my own agony, know....know...that I still held a tremendous place in her life.
I might never be whole again, but I would be whole enough for her.
For a while, I slept in the living room, to allow me time to recover and be necessarily alone. After a couple months, though, she brought me back into the bedroom with tenderness and lovingkindness. That's where I am now...back where I belong!
We're still together, she and I. We spend time together every day, and she doesn't judge me for my brokenness. She sees that I am exactly the same as I was before...just a little less able, a little less stable. But it doesn't matter to my girl...oh, no.
She shares everything about who she is with me, and I give her back everything I can. Together, we're making a go of it.
Ain't nothin' goin' to hold us back now.
Dell L. has been a laptop in the Fowler Family since 2000. This is his first article for Blogcabin. 
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