H came home and we eventually did some talking. H said that he understands my anger, but says that I cannot damage his things. That's fair, and I apologized for the gun. I know that I should not have had the martinis, I should not have pushed the gun and all of the stuff onto the floor. I just never thought that the pain would be so very intense and consuming. I think I did pretty good holding thigs together for 36 hours before I imploded. The visions of them being together run before my eyes every time I close them. I want to throw up.
Most of us are about as happy as we make up our minds to be.
