Over 30 years ago I (somehow) coped with a very ill husband and four children. I felt that awful sense of loss and loneliness as he too became angry and unpredictable. There was an overriding feeling of guilt as well. How could I feel so sorry for myself when I was fit and healthy? I did understand my concern for my own safety, though, as he was still a lot stronger than me and he blamed me for his illness.
On reflection, I was grieving at the time. I'd permanently lost the kind, considerate and gentle person I'd loved and married. I was worried, too, about facing the future without him.
I suddenly hated the world and felt let down. People didn't understand. I deeply resented the assumption that I'd look after him (including sleepless nights) while studying and raising four children. On his medical notes it said 'Wife not working' (is it ever 'Husband not working', I wonder?) and my tutor suggested that I take a year off (when study was my only 'normal' and vital refuge at the time).
After one particularly terrifying violent episode, my doctor suggested that I just take the children and leave. How could I possibly abandon the man I still loved when he was terminally ill? I decided that (as the kids were safe) I'd stay and (luckily for me) he soon lost strength so I wasn't so scared all the time. His temper tantrums were really just his way of expressing extreme fear. His upbringing/conditioning (the tough guy never cried) only allowed for rage and the rage was directed at me. I didn't realise that at the time and it's so difficult to comfort an angry person.
When we lost him I struggled with guilt at feeling relieved that I'd survived. Now I wonder why. I remember and miss the 'real' kind, funny chap I married. The other, angry man was just a fake, cardboard cut-out replacement for the dear husband that the illness stole from me.