Sorry, but I'm getting a little chuckle from the image of your hubby hunkered down in a fox hole with one of those protective army helmets, surrounded by sandbags in your living room in the midst of a big arguement with you.
You're hurling anger and insults like grenades. He's firing back with anger and intimidation.
You dodge his shots and fire right back.
This is too much for him. He can't take it anymore. He starts to pray and longs for the days back in his hometown. He misses his childhood dog and wonders how he ever got himself into this war. He tries to escape but fails.
By the time he musters up the courage to flee from the scene, he's frightened but and can see the carnage that surrounds him. Poof. Traumatized. He'll never be the same again.
The smell of perfume, the sight of a makeup bag, the sound of your favorite TV show's theme song. They all send him into a panic after that. They all bring him back to that fox hole in the living room.
OK, so I'm a little dramatic...sounds like he is too
Me: 35 W: 31 S:9 M: 10 years Together 13 MySitch - Ups & Downs She moved out the day before Thanksgiving 2009, over 13 months post-bomb.
