The hard times

January is a hard month for me. For some reason the start of a new year has always been hard. I don't know why. But these days January is a time of anniversaries for me; of both good things and bad.

The best anniversary I have in January is that of the birth of my first child. He is twelve now and growing up so fast. But even this is tinged with a little sadness. Birthdays are a special time, especially for children. A time to celebrate with family. My kids do still get to do this, well, with their parents. But not at the same time any more. I feel, sometimes, like I have taken something important away from them in this regard. I know that the reality is quite different, but still the feelings remain.

Another anniversary should have been a happy one, at least for the first eleven years it was celebrated. But the truth is it rarely was. I am talking about my wedding anniversary. As I am legally still married I guess it is still a legitmate anniversary but not one I wish to celebrate anymore. I have so few good memories of my wedding anniversaries. Rarely did we make an effort to celebrate. In fact I think we only had a couple where we even managed to have a meal together without the kids. I always thought of wedding anniversaries as a special event in a couples life; an indication of the years they have travelled together. And I feel a deep sadness inside me when I hear how my friends celebrate theirs. I am envious and wish I could have similar memories to hold onto to remind myself that it wasn't all bad. But along with that envy is also some guilt and shame. Guilt and shame that I could not make a success of my marriage. So much of the responsibility for making a marriage work falls on the shoulders of women, or maybe it is just the perception of it does. I guess it doesn't matter much which. My wedding anniversary is an annual reminder of failure, and I just don't do failure well. I know that it wasn't my failure but somehow I still feel the weight of it on my shoulders.

The other anniversaries this month are of times I would rather forget. Two of the most obvious sexual assaults in my marriage happened in January. They were not the worst or the most violent. In fact they were rather gentle compared to some of what I lived with. But they are there. They are times when I can identify what happened clearly as rape. The psychologist I was seeing noted in a report she wrote for me that these events still cause a considerable amount of distress for me when I remember them. That is very true, not so much for the actual assaults themselves but for the fact they were among the few times I clearly said no. It is impossible to define it as anything else but rape when you know you have said no, regardless of who the perpetrator is. These assaults were very much the beginning of the end. They affected me so deeply inside. I went from wanting to try and make things work but working towards a future where I could be self-sufficient and support my kids to knowing I had to get out, sooner rather than later, if I was to survive.

I have grown so much in the past couple of years since those assaults. I am now physically safe and living a life that, while not perfect, is so much happier and healthier for myself and my children. I have also grown enough to acknowledge that yes, these things hurt and are going to go on hurting for a long time. It is not as simple as saying it happened x number of years ago and therefore I am/should be over it. I may never be over it. I will always remember and in some ways I am glad because the lessons I learned, while extremely painful, will hopefully help keep me safer in the future.