When I got married on this day 8 years ago, I naively thought (hoped) that I would be transformed by the power of becoming Mrs.

To some extent I was. I felt so beautiful for the first time in my life that when people customarily commented to that effect on the day, I was not humble at all. “I know!” I beamed back. But I wasn’t being big headed. It was simply the first time ever I had been able to believe it for myself, about myself. I was in love with the feeling.

I had been desperate to get married. With the benefit of hindsight and the intervening years, I can see my urgency was needless, maybe even misplaced. I was only 26, I was young! But in taking Kev’s name, or more, him gifting it to me that day, meant I had somewhere, someone of my own choosing to belong to. If we did it right, we’d belong together forever.

I thought having that would magically right the long list of things I had long hated about myself or considered broken.

On one hand, I did transform. Because I planned it that way. In the 4 weeks from our wedding day, I started a new job and began my university degree, which would each ultimately span the births of both our daughters. A new name, new responsibilities and new pursuits all within 28 days.

And yet… I still believed I was broken, less than… defective. That feeling followed me for years. I was in this marriage for life and yet still felt I was merely waiting for the end to come because I was so undeserving.

Not Kev. He said similar, but he was waiting for me to realise I could do better. Ha. When we got married, my twice divorced mother asked if she could keep Kev in our divorce, not me. Ouch.

The only way I have ever been able to authentically describe my husband is home. It wasn’t until I met him and he shared everything he could offer with me so freely that I realised I’d never really felt like I’d had anything of my own before. I had expected such a small life.

Instead, what I found was someone who instinctively saw everything I could be. I held no such self-belief and in the face of my vitrol, this wonderful man held fast.

He has seen me through everything the universe could throw our way – house moves, pregnancy, children, mental and physical health issues, job loss, studies and bereavement. To me, he has always seemed so big and capable, because I know he will throw himself over me and our girls to protect us from anything in the world and I know he’d be able to cover us all through nothing else than sheer bloody minded determination. Herein lies one of my biggest fears as a beloved wife – I do not feel big enough to reciprocate this most sacred of actions. I am equally determined (read: bloody minded) so Kev has managed to teach me, but could my efforts save us all? I worry about this every day, because my love has faced his own health challenges and losses and I couldn’t stop the universe from doing what it will do. I carry such guilt, which I know stops him from imparting my share of our load.

So in some ways, I still feel so utterly undeserving of my good fortune. I am however, fiercely protective of it. The home we have built with our beautiful girls is my sacred sanctuary, where I can be myself and allow peace. Or be a complete control freak. I am safe here and Kev taught me that.

I have ambitions. I have plans to pursue a career that I have wondered about my whole life. Recently, I am anxious about this, wondering if I am reaching too far, wondering if I will crash and burn. Failure terrifies me. But I deserve to tell myself I tried. Kev taught me that. So on I go.

Recently, I confided in my wonderful, patient husband how anxious I feel life is currently making me; sad, unmotivated and possibly overburdened by my own hand. I wasn’t sure what to do for the best. Was I meant to fix this or withdraw from it? I am a fixer at heart, but easily overwhelmed if I don’t know where to start. Kev is inherently logical and calm. Sometimes, this frustrates me, sometimes it is a godsend.

Except, he didn’t say anything for a while, just smiling to himself.

This, he said, was a familiar preamble of mine. Sadness and overwhelm would periodically creep in to agitate me. Yes, and?

And, he said, these were not times to fear as I seemed to. He was right, I always did.

Because, he said, this preamble meant he’d see me doggedly push through to make great strides to improve myself, or my life soon enough. Because that is what I do.

Kev jokingly told me early on in our relationship that he (the maths graduate) had calculated that it would take 49 years to help me reach my full potential (or to see myself as he did.) We are 13-and-a-half years in to the 49 year plan and finally:

“You’re right. That is what I do.”

And Kev, when you read this, I want you to know…. that is what you have taught me.

Thank you for being my safe place, my friend, my cheerleader, my sounding board, my protector.

Thank you for not falling off in the bed in shock when positive self-perception left my lips for the first time in years. You bruise like a peach, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

As someone who is only just learning to like themselves, I know I may not always do the best job of showing how much I love you. But I do. So completely. You are by my side, having been unfaltering for all our years and I could not be more grateful. With you, I have grown when I never thought I could change. But with you too, I know there are some things we’d never want to change.

And so, in our time honoured tradition of sarcasm, I have decided you can stay!

Happy anniversary my darlin’ Fox.