Safest Place in the World

Anyone who has followed my blog for a while knows of my struggles with PTSD.   I rarely if ever know what causes my episodes, but once I have one it can take weeks and even months to "get back on the horse" so to speak.

It used to frustrate my husband.  It was hard for him (no pun intended.)  I know the lack of intimacy was difficult for him, but now I also see how he struggled, because I was struggling.  He wanted to help me.   He wanted to ease my pain somehow.  He wanted to be the perfect man in bed, so that these moments would go away.   We both realize now that simply wasn't and isn't possible.

Now we seemed to have switched places.  I used to not be as upset by these moments.  Being intimate was something I had resigned myself to do without.  Now he is the patient one, and after an episode I am the one frustrated and feeling like a failure.  I want to be "better" for him, because he deserves better.  I often worry one day he'll realize that and go find it.  

I had one of my episodes about two months ago.  For some reason this time it seemed to take longer than normal for me to feel ready to try again.  We tried a few times, but it didn't really go anywhere.  Bucko was happy with our progress, but I felt rather like disheartened by the whole situation.  I was starting to wonder if we would get to experience that wonderful intimacy we had before.  I don't say get back to the good place, because I know now that we are traveling down a road and no two places are alike.  

Anyway,  this weekend I was reading a new book on my awesome new e-reader (love blog hops btw!) and I was feeling a little frisky.  I interrupted Bucko's game he was playing and finally we had a successful attempt.  Hot damn!  It's about time.  I was feeling much more confident than I had in weeks.  Things were looking up.

That is until we tried a second time.  We were cuddling in each others arms and I leaned in to kiss him.  For a while we just stayed there; our arms and legs entwined together as we kissed one of those slow melt your heart and soul kisses.  He moved and our dance began.  

The tragic thing about my moments are that everything is fine, until it isn't.  I couldn't for the life of me tell you what happened.  Most of the time I am unable to put my finger on it.  Something happened, some uncomfortable sensation took me out of our moment and rushing back to the past.  Panic set it.  I put my hand on his chest and he stilled.  I cried.

"Baby, it's okay.  It's just me.  Breathe," He soothed.  His voice was slow and calm as he tried not to startle me further.

"I'm sorry,"  I whispered as I tried to steady myself.  I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to stop feeling the fear that was coursing through me.

"Look at me.  Open your eyes.  You need to see that it is just me here and nothing is going to hurt you," He went on.  His voice was soft, but there was a firmness there that caught me as off guard as his words did.  Was he right?  Did closing my eyes force me to stay in the past rather than focus on what is happening now?  

I opened my eyes, but the tears didn't stop.  I apologized again.  He shushed me.

"This is our bed.  This is the safest place in the world.  It's just you and me.  I won't let anything bad happen to you in here," He promised me.  I took a deep breath.  He moved.  He shifted so that he was lying on his back.  I moved to lay my head in the crook of his neck, and marveled, not for the first time, how my head seemed to fit there perfectly.  Was this some kind of destiny, and I'd failed to notice it?

"I'm sorry," I apologized again as my tears slowed and my breathing became more even.  I hated this and I needed him to know that.

"You have nothing to apologize for.  This isn't your fault.  It isn't your fault that some sick bastard hurt you.  You do and feel whatever you need to.  I'm right here.  I'm not going anywhere," he uttered the words softly as he kissed my hair and gently stroked my tense spine.

"You didn't either," I felt compelled to point out.  I didn't want him for a second to think he'd done something wrong.  My moments are mine.  Nothing he could do would stop them, and I didn't want him to think badly about himself either.

"I know," he assured me.  "This just happens and we'll work through it when it does.  It will be okay.  As long as I have you it will be okay.  All you have to do is relax and let me love and take care of you." 

I wiped my face and we stayed there in bed for a long while.  We didn't speak we just held each other.  I listened to his heartbeat and finally relaxed.  I didn't know when we would try again, but for the moment it didn't matter.  

A little voice in my head said, "Maybe tomorrow."