Happy Anniversary....

And it was gone, uneventfully, and truly undeserving of the attention and anxiety I had allocated to this day.  Looking back I'm not sure what made me think of it as some sort of ominous being lurking behind me for weeks prior. In truth It came, it went and though the thought passed through my mind for a fleeting moment there were no tears, little anxiety and a surprising feeling of normality that day. 

A lot can be credited to a good friend who swept me off to small town NY for the weekend to keep me as far away from the chatter and the sympathy texts as I could get. I turned off my phone, separated myself from social media and ignored my emails, and even though I anticipated the disconnect would help, I didn't anticipate barely a thought of what would have been my first anniversary. 

I am OKAY.

Today I had a moment walking to the mail room. It seems silly really.

As I took the trek across the office to the printer (which by the way did not print my document) I began to think about something. I began to think about my relationship with Husband. To date I have felt a great many things when he crosses my mind. I have felt angry, I have felt sad, violated, scared, nervous, or fall apart depressed.

Today however my thoughts followed a new path. I thought about how I felt picking myself off the floor when he hit me, how I felt when his face would turn a shade of red only familiar during outbursts. I thought about how I can no longer remember his smell or what it felt like to lie in his arms. And how I no longer care.

I thought about how I know what he did to me was inexplicably WRONG. I felt OKAY.

You see, I always thought that the hardest things to forget were the happy parts. The funny bit is it seems to be as the happiness from my last life begins to fade into the background as I learn to be happy with myself, for myself in my new life. As I begin to understand that my happiness is my responsibility I learn not to to lean on the memories of my former happiness and I am okay.

Nana

On June 8th 2004 I lost one of the most influential people in my life. At the time I was 17,  my relationship with my husband was new and wonderful and not violent, at the time I couldn't imagine what it would have become.

As a child I learned my Nana left my grandfather and moved to an entirely new province with my uncles and mother, she left a man she loved but couldn't be with. As a child I never pressed on about the story of my grandparents. If I had I would have learned that my Nana survived a turbulent relationship with a man that she cared about deeply, a man who was  troubled and she couldn't help. I don't know much else beyond these few stories, i don't know the intricacies or details, but I don't think I need to. The bit that I need to know is that she survived, because she left.

The last couple days my brain has wandered to Nana. It goes without saying that I miss her terribly, but lately my thoughts have been mulling over what my life would be like if Nana was still here. If I had known someone in my life who had gone through a relationship like mine and made it out. If there was someone who could have held my hand or told me to smarten up, perhaps if there was someone who knew what it was like, someone I could have opened up to.

I believe that I now have a stronger tie to Nana, one that I also share with more women and men than I know.  We managed to figure out a way to get out of something, realizing that love is not a reason for hurt. I wish that she was here to tell me it gets better, to tell me that the pain will fade into nothing, that I did the right thing and like she did when I was a girl run her fingers through my hair to ease a bad day. Even though she isn't here to sooth me any longer, knowing that she was able to overcome this, knowing that my decision to leave was the same decision she made 50 years earlier. Nana was always my favourite person on this plane. She was a constant place for love in my life and even 9 years later she is still supporting me and guiding me through one of my hardest passages.

Today's Thoughts

Today I am falling to pieces. A year ago I was embarking on single digit countdown to my wedding. prepping and preening. Today I am sitting in my box typing, remembering how good it felt to be dreaming of a future where I was happy. The ironic bit is, now that I have one I am finding it difficult, near impossible to accept it. Instead, I just want to go back. I want someone to take care of me when I am sick, I want to stop feeling alone no matter where I am, I want to stop feeling irreparably broken.

What is worse is I have become bitter and reclusive, the hours I have adapted to working don't help. They allow me to hide behind something, to play my role and offer me the longest reprieve from myself.

I find myself getting angry at people I love, no matter what they do. If they want to talk about it I am angry for them not minding their business, if they don't call I am upset that they don't care. The best part is I know it is me.

I can't figure out my brain, it feels like ping pong balls are loose inside my head. Every time they connect with my brain a new thought is triggered, I can't keep up, I can't make sense of anything.

Never a Choice a Man Should Make...

If you haven't seen this check it out. It really is a passionate response to a brave question. What is inspiring is the notion that even someone blessed with fame and a very successful entertainment career began his life in a terrible situation. What is even more powerful is that he came out of it not as someone who struggles with a violent past but who advocates a peaceful and stronger future.

 

 



Why my husband hit me confused me. To be honest, it still confuses me. From what I know about his life he was never abused, his mother or father were not violent with him or eachother. I use to wonder if it was because he was bullied, if it was because his dad would tell him to be a man more times than I can count. If it was because he didn't feel adequate or was struggling with something he couldn't let me see. These were the thoughts I would play in my head as I wondered if it was me, or him and how I could fix it, fix us, fix him.

The more I read about domestic violence the less I understand. I find more scenarios about why a spouse is abusive, yet none of them seem to apply to me.

The overarching theme seems to be that the abuser has in some form learnt the behaviour, been exposed to it, perhaps victimised or abused themselves. Sometimes I think back on what I know about his family, make excuses for his actions. Sometimes I try to accept that he was broken not me, and violence was a choice he made, not one I stimulated.

Mr. Stewart made one hell of a point through this video, no matter the reason violence is never, ever a choice a man (or woman) should make.