Bringing Myself Back

I know it has been two weeks since my last post.  I'm sorry about my absence and the fact that I haven't responded to comments on my previous post.  I have read them, but my heart has been heavy and it has not been in blogland as of late.

There has been so much going on lately.  Life has been stressful.  It has not been the wonderful fun summer I was anticipating.  Bucko and I had another round of, "are we? maybe?" only to be met with Aunt Flo's monthly visit.  I know I am supposed to be patient and it will happen when it happens, but each month the disappointment gets harder and harder to take.  Bucko seems confident we are getting closer to finding that magic mix of timing and stars aligning that makes little buckaroos.  I'm struggling.  Each time it doesn't happen I'm left to question what is wrong with me?  Why am I not able to give this to him?  The doctors seem to think there is nothing physically wrong with either of us, so then I wonder if that just means there is something so wrong with me emotionally that it just isn't meant to be.

If that were all that was wrong I feel like I might still be in a better place, but it isn't.   Most of you that have read my blog know that I struggle with PTSD.  It happens out of no where.  One minute I'm completely fine and things are great.  The next I'm not.   I had been doing really well for a long while.  Everything was great and the monster seemed willing to stay in his cave.  For once I didn't seem to find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Perhaps that was my mistake, because when it finally dropped it dropped like a combat boot from hell.  The last time Bucko and I tried to dance our dance I had a moment.  It was a big one.

After one of these moments it can be hard to get back on the horse so to speak.  This time it was especially true.  To come so far only to go crashing back sent me into a bout of depression I wasn't ready for.  Bucko was gentle and waiting patiently for me to come back to him.  I didn't.  I retreated into my shell.  I found myself watching horrible reality shows thinking if I saw people more screwed up than me I wouldn't feel so bad.  You know when your house is dirty watch Hoarders, because at least you aren't THAT bad.  It didn't work.  When I found myself watching Toddlers and Tiaras I knew it was bad.

There wasn't a lot going on physically in our house.  When this kind of thing happens it's difficult for me to try again, because I spend the time tense and wondering when it's going to happen again.  We tried a few days ago and it was an epic fail.  Sure we were holding hands, but there was no real connection.  Even the fun swats and playful spanks we enjoy were too much.

Yesterday, I feel like we turned a corner.  For one I've been cut off.  No more Toddlers and Tiaras for me. (Bucko and a wonderful blogger friend said so.  When those two team up, I've got no chance. LOL)   I've decided that I need to get out of the house a little.  So this week I plan to go and do things, I'm not sure what but just something.  Big deep breaths, big girl panties, and all that jazz.

It helps that Bucko was able to touch me yesterday.  No we didn't dance our dance, but it was a step in the right direction.  That is an experience I may share in another post.  At any rate, I feel a little better and maybe I'm headed back from the dark place now.