Confessing Sexual Assault: Confronting My Darkest Truth

(Trigger warning: This article contains discussions of sexual assault which may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.)

My wife and I had been married for approximately nine and a half years when we found our marriage at its lowest point. She was ready to separate.

She kept using that word. I was hopeful it left room for getting back together, but I wasn’t completely clueless. She was using “separate” instead of “divorce,” a word that carries more weight and finality. There was no doubt, she saw divorce as a more appealing option to staying married to me for the rest of her life.

It wasn’t that she hated me, I just wasn’t the kind of partner she needed in a husband. She’d been carrying much more responsibility than I had, and after years of hoping I’d figure out how to be a better partner, she had given up hope. In a fashion I found confusing, Joy had a like/hate relationship with me. While she hated my lack of effort, she liked me as a person. The love, however, was gone. I understand that now. I couldn’t understand it then.

I, on the other hand, still loved her. I wanted her to be happy in life. I knew her dissatisfaction with me had been an ongoing issue, and I continued to fail to do what needed to be done. So, as much as I didn’t want to get…