It started so unexpectedly. We were discussing whether to spend a small amount of money on one home improvement or another, and he got furious...more than his norm. He's my sweet, passive husband of 30 years. At one point he told me to shut the $%@$ up...totally out of character. I was afraid of him for the first time ever. So I spent the evening in our home office on my laptop until he went to bed, and now I'm in the living room wondering if I can sleep in our bed next to him. Part of me wants to allow myself to freak out and sink into memories and relive moments of my past abusive relationship, and part of me just wants to get on with things and put it behind us...but that element of fear has changed things after all these years. I'm not even sure if my fear is sensible or if I blew it out of proportion because of my PTSD. I'm not good at knowing when fear is normal. I think I'll just finish my popcorn and then meander down the hallway and see which direction tugs at me. Sigh. I really just want to be in a dark closet with a thick blanket.