I got a call this morning from the eBay store telling me that they couldn’t sell my wedding set without a receipt. I was immediately enraged, tearful, ready to rip apart the woman who called me. I brag that I did an emergency Spring Cleaning on “People who can’t do their f!ing jobs” because I didn’t want to spiral into major pissiness. Here’s part of what emerged after I asked myself the question “What do you have on people who can’t do their f!ing jobs?” several times:
“I am scared of those rings. I want them. I want them to be mine. I want to still be the married woman with the beautiful rings. I don’t want to be the single woman with no sign of marriage on the horizon.”
I don’t think I want to be married in the legal way. I think I discovered a pocket of sorrow that a marriage that began with such beauty ended so viciously. I think letting go of those rings feels like letting go of all hopes of happily living together in a long-term relationship. Those rings represent being chosen, being put first in someone else’s heart.
Here’s my new plan. I will pick up the set from the eBay store and apologize to the woman for being a raving bitch. I will take them home and do a ceremony to release my attachment and ask that it be converted into a hefty sum of money that will fund my current pleasure path. Then I will take the rings to the estate consignment store that the eBay store recommended, where they can be appraised and sold. I may be able to sell the masks my husband bought in Africa there, too.
One thing that I will buy with the money I get from selling my wedding rings is a new ring, a ring that I will wear on my right ring finger, a ring that symbolizes my love and eternal commitment to myself. I will buy it from Tiffany & Co. and I will pick it out in person, at the shop. It will represent being chosen, being put first in my own heart. It’s going to be hard to let the old rings go and hard to release the idea that being chosen by another is more valid than being chosen by myself.
All that sounds great. But here’s what happened when I went to the bathroom just now so I wouldn’t cry at work. I sat on the toilet seat and put my head down and heard this inside me: I’m not okay with my marriage being over.
One of my best friends is getting married this weekend. I know her absolute faith in forever is hard for me to witness. I’ve been there. Forever doesn’t exist. Even in long lasting relationships, someone dies first. For fuck’s fucking sake, it’s been almost six years since he died. I’ve been to counseling, done EMDR, done rituals, and have been in love for over two years. This entire year has been dedicated to creating an unshakable core of self-love and now this rears its ugly rotting head again? When is enough healing enough?