Progress? Accomplishment? Me?

It is a hard road from saying, "I did my best," to believing it and letting it rest. But I think, at least for this moment, I am there. For so long Tom has been going on tirades, telling me all of the ways I failed, and failed him. For a long time I looked at him and saw how terribly unhappy he was, not knowing he had bvFTD (Behavioral Variant Frontal Temporal Dementia), thinking he was either a jerk or depressed, and wondered why, when I had tried so hard, had put so much into this marriage and into him, he chose to be unhappy. Why, I wondered with great hurt, was he not happy and so terribly unhappy? When he accused and told me all of the things I had "said" and "did not do," and "did do" I literally screamed that was not the case, screaming to assert that I do exist, that I did try, and that I was good to him. When talking is not heard screaming is the only way to hold onto some small scrap of self. But I hate it. And I should not have to do it. My children tell me I was very good to Tom, that I still am, and that I have gone far, far beyond what many, or perhaps even most people would do; that I have put up with way more than necessary and more than many others would. And yet, I couldn't find it in myself to know that. There were angles and splinters of doubt, and thus the scream, the "NO, NOT ME, THAT IS NOT WHAT I DID OR DIDN'T." The scream of self preservation. But tonight, when he started his onslaught I said I could not do this. He persisted, he pursued. I kept saying, "We have talked about this; I am sorry you feel that way; I can't do this every day; I can't let you talk to me like this," and when I could say no more I went out and sat in the car. I sat for just a few minutes, and started inside. "I will leave," he said, shaking fingers and voice at me. Admonishing--my fault again. I stood in the light on the porch, watched him drive away, then walked inside and said, "I did my best." I did. And while I feel sad, I don't feel bad. I know I did my best. I know it. This is not about me. I know that too. Know. Know it. And feel at peace. For now  anyway. Sad, but at peace. And that is progress, an accomplishment. For me.
And I know I will save myself.