So there is but fire In you, in me?

 It is a word I've been using a lot. Please. "Please don't do this, please don't be angry, please hear me, please help me". The pattern is old and entrenched, and I am well into despair.  Please don't do this , is when he puts on his coat and says, his voice quiet and low  "I'm going".  That is when the tsunami of panic hits me and I shatter. At this point I will not, cannot let go of him. I hold onto his legs, I am hysterical. He says - voice controlled, quiet and low: "let go, fuck off, just get off me"  I'm dissolving in terror.  His tone becomes more angry He shouts at me "I can't even leave my own house, fucking hell, just fuck off!" My eyes are shut, I'm holding on to the fracturing edge of the universe. I'm holding onto nothing, no one. No hand reaches out. No kind word is given. Between my arms, he is nothing except a tiny shard of mirror glass. Hologrammatically it contains all my memory of love. It fi

Finally... Josh is fine. The good guys outnumbered the bad, and he was lucky.. I want to tell you, it is possible to come back from screaming mad, I want to say to never give up hope. But if you ask me, the difference in coming back is more than luck and more than having good people on your side...Josh kept talking. Talking enough to eventually churn through, and face all of it. I stop.

Here, I am lost at sea with out a compass or star. Something happened. Many things happened. Or was I right the first time that  something  happened? When I describe to my husband what that something was, he throws all the reasons why he reacted as he did to me then, back in my face. I am drenched in pain, unheard, gasping for air, unable to speak or breath. He tells me,  "The past is the past, it is gone. Done. No more. Do not bring the past up again". But what happened then keeps on happening. I've had decades to define its structure and I know that it cannot change until I learn to avoid the entry points. It isn't what went wrong at the time that matters. What continues to hurt us is, that when I managed to express what had happened to me in that catastrophic night of despair, nothing changed. I expected something and then fell into the hole of empty-nothingness, a void where I know repair and action should be. In my mind it is like this 'a person who loves me