Sometimes I think I'm fucking losing it.

I was so young when my dad raped me that it became part of my reality. I was young and learning, a sponge, and I soaked it all right up. When he wasn't around so much, I created someone in my head that fulfilled what I had learned to need, someone to be terrified of, yet love. A man, specifically. I learned that the world is a terrifying place that that people, especially people I loved, were dangerous and not to be trusted. A book my therapist is having me read talks all about the trauma of incest. It says that it's the most traumatic kind of sexual abuse. It backs up all these theories I've had but minimized because I thought I was the only person thinking them and my vision of the world is skewed.
The danger I created for myself is slowly breaking apart as I get better, but sometimes it overwhelms me. I get scared or distracted or something and I want to plunge head-first into a rape fantasy. I used to never try to stop it. Now that I do, I realize that a part of my brain was always giving in, that I never really wanted to fantasize about rape. Now that I'm actively saying no, it's more difficult. I feel like something is trying to rape me with energy. Yes, I am in control, but this behavior is so learned and embedded that I'm saying no to a part of myself that manifested my dad. I push it down and tell the man in my head "No" but he's like my dad and he doesn't listen. I push and push and push and sometimes it goes away, but more often than not I get sick of having to push and just let it overtake my brain. I get lost again and I can finally fall asleep.
Insomnia keeps me up because an illogical part of my mind is terrified that my mom is going to kick in the door and start screaming at me. She used to hit me too, I remembered, though she always implied that she didn't and it was just my dad. But I remembered a couple nights ago. I used to run away from her and scream and cry and she would hit me with all of her strength. I remembered her molesting me, like actually molesting me, but I'm trying not to admit that it's true. A part of me keeps screaming "It is true! She did that to you!" but I can't always listen. If that were true, then I'm not safe at all. But. I don't see them anymore. But I'm still not safe from them. I dream about them and think I see them on the street and they're fucking EVERYWHERE and nowhere is safe, and it never has been. I can't sleep until I let myself admit that and get lost in it.
I have moments where it seems I revert completely. A couple nights ago, I was sitting on my bed. Without thinking about it, I got up and turned off the light. I had been talking to the man in my head, trying to figure out details of who he was, and he had just agreed to stop morphing into my dad. I turned off the light and laid face down on my bed. I felt like I was in danger. Sensations, but I couldn't identify what they were. I had the sudden urge to crawl into a dark corner of my room and hide, but I didn't. I'm an adult. I don't need to do that. A funny thought temporarily distracted me, and before I knew it, I was on the floor crawling under my desk. I didn't have control of my body, and I began to lose it even more. I started whispering things to myself, and shaking, and crying. I remembered that when I was a really little kid, I would do just that, crawl around in the darkness of my room for a hiding place. I never understood how they were able to find me. A dark room is a jungle in the eyes of a toddler. So I was shaking and whispering and crying and I wasn't the me I am today anymore, and I wasn't in my current room, I was two or three and I was in my room in our old house when my parents were still married. When I had finally had enough, when I felt like I was going crazy, I attempted to crawl out from under the desk. Instead, I curled up into a little ball on the floor and whispered repeatedly "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." I couldn't help myself. I don't remember how long it lasted. I felt like my mom was above me screaming at me or my dad was above me being lecherous. Finally, I jumped up and turned on the light. I still minimized everything.
I remember my mom angrily grabbing my vagina and screaming in my face. I try to tell myself it's a manifestation, but I believe that less every time I think it. My manifestations are more creative.