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.