In the end, no screaming in to a pillow required.   In fact, all that was needed was release and recognition.  And perhaps a little romance.

The release of tears and words; clumsy words, tumbling and gulping out as the Big Man stroked my head.

The recognition that the same thoughts, feelings and emotions are still there, that I am just getting better at managing them.

The romance of walking around our floodlit garden, under the stars, hand in hand.

I must remember my antidote for anger.  Being heard and being loved.