The wall came down a little last night.
I’ve slowly been building it, brick by brick, to keep the past in the past, to keep me here in the present unless I chose to go back. I used to drift back, without even trying. It was like a vacuum and it would suck me in and I was trapped reliving it without release until it ran out of power.
Last night I felt its pull as I was deleting texts from my phone. Did I delete “the texts”? No not yet, I don’t know why but I’m not ready yet. What am I waiting for? I don’t know!! Stop asking the hard questions, the ones I know the answers to but I can’t do. Should I delete them? Yes, they don’t do any good, they suck me back there to the dark, the sadness, the anger…but I keep thinking maybe someday a question will be answered if I keep them. I know it’s crazy, remember I’m fully aware of my insanity and I tell myself to get rid of them too, but I can’t yet.
Today wasn’t about the texts from “the whore” and “bat shit crazy” though it was about the thoughts which came in last night after I came across the texts (which I didn’t read) and the wall already had a crack in it. I was putting on my make-up to go eat dinner with the family (Friday Night Chinese), and at the bottom of my make-up bag was a ring.
My heart skipped a beat, because for just a second I thought it was my wedding ring. I don’t wear mine, haven’t in a year. I took it off and put it on my bathroom counter when I found out about the affair. I had worn it for 20 years except when my hands were swollen with pregnancy, and even then as soon as my fingers stopped being little fat sausages I would put it back on.
It was a small diamond, bought by a 19-year-old boy with his summer job savings. My husband for years offered to replace it but I always said “No…I want the one you bought me when we were broke and 19…” I loved that ring. Two broke kids, who were young and stupid and in Love. Everybody said it wouldn’t last, that we were crazy, but we were bound and determined to prove them wrong. We did too, for a long time and every time I saw the ring there on my finger, I thought of every sad time, bad time, broke time, hard time we had been through and it gave me reassurance of “what ever comes we will make it.”
I took it off the night I found out, because for the first time it didn’t give me comfort, it made me sad, and angry. My husband hadn’t worn a wedding ring in years, first because it was getting scarred when he was welding, and then it didn’t fit…kind of poetic when you think about it, because he stopped believing in our marriage and the symbol of it was left sitting in a box, hidden away. He has since offered to get it resized and to start wearing it. I told him “No, it didn’t mean anything to you before, you don’t get to wear it now…”
Yes I am fully aware it’s a bitch thing to say, guess what I am fine with being a bitch some times. He had an affair…with a whore, and almost destroyed my family…I get to be a bitch sometimes.
The day he came back from work two weeks after I had found out, I took it from my bathroom counter and sat it on the kitchen table where he sat.
” I don’t want this anymore, you can have it back…”
He sat there and picked it up, looking at it, with sorrow in his eyes, yet I didn’t care…
What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t care!! Pawn it, throw it away, Hell give it to “the whore”, although I’m sure she won’t like it, she will want something bigger…She’s not some stupid 19-year-old girl!!!”
He got angry at my suggestion of what to do with it and started yelling back ” You said you loved it, that you didn’t care it was small, it was all I could afford…I offered to buy you a new one!!!”
I was crying by this time…I don’t know if it was in anger or sadness, probably a combination of both emotions “I loved that ring, but the man who gave it to me…the kid who loved me, and promised to never hurt me? He’s gone, and I don’t want any reminders of him around!!!”
I left him there with the ring in his hand. I haven’t seen it since. Months later I asked him where it was at and he said he had put it up with his…together they sit in the dark, hidden away…It makes me sad, and yet I still can’t wear it. The marriage it stood for is gone, the vows which were said while it was placed on my finger are broken, and my hand sits bare.
I find bitter and ironic humor in the fact that ” the whore” put back on her wedding ring a couple of weeks after her affair with my husband was over. I guess she had done it before, when she’d go running back to her ex, during the affair, as a way to bug my husband. A little ring game she liked to play. I sit here a year later, crying my eyes out as I write about my wedding ring, and she was able to take her’s off and on like I do my clothes. Wearing it depending on her mood and who she was with…did it go with her outfit for the day? Was she with my husband, or her ex…was she “dating” Brad or Mike…was she trolling the bar, or eating sugar cookies in her ex’s bed.
I’m glad I’m not like her, but sometimes I have to admire the fact that she never lets a little thing…like say a wedding ring…ruin her fun. I am afraid I will never have the strength to put another ring on my finger, and I miss it. I miss what it stood for, my own personal screwed up fairy tale of two kids, who were gonna beat the odds and live happily ever after…
I hate fairy tales now, but I really wish mine had come true.
“She’s fifteen and he’s barely driving a car
She’s got his ring and he’s got the keys to her heart
It’s just matter of time
They’ll spread their wings and fly
two sparrows in a hurri-cane
Trying to find their way
With a head full of dreams
and faith that can move anything
They’ve heard it’s all uphill
But all they know is how they feel
The world says they’ll never make it, love says they will
There’s a baby crying and one more on the way
There’s a wolf at the door with a big stack of bills
They can’t pay
The clouds are dark and the wind is high
But they can see the other side”