My house is so quiet; my husband is out of town.
Years ago, when I lived in Atlanta, Adam being out of town was a Problem. I used to call friends over to spend the night, because I could not deal with being in the house alone-after-Elayna's-bedtime. The quiet made me twitch, made me incredibly nervous, and of course this worsened after the house was broken into in early November '02.
It isn't a Problem now, not like that. I miss him lots! But the problems are more along the lines of "must make sure child gets up on time and packs her lunch", not "OMG FREAKOUT".
PTSD Lass is Much Better, is what I am saying. Damn, was I a wreck in that regard those first few years. That was me detoxing from the abusive ex-husband and finally in a place where I could fall apart and deal with what had happened in Vegas and, hell, deal with my whole life up to that point; before moving in with Adam, I had been keeping my shit together strictly through forward momentum and surface tension, bubble gum and baling wire, manic determination. With Adam, I finally felt safe enough to relax, hemorrhage years of hell, and piece myself back together using only the parts of me I wanted to keep.
Adam is out of town and I am okay, and that probably doesn't look huge to people who haven't known me long, but it kinda is. Kiss of grace to ex-'song who had to fight so hard all the time...
Sometimes, "this used to be really hard for me, and now it's not" is enough.