I sold my wedding rings merely a few weeks after separating, and I don’t regret it.
Now I know what you’re probably thinking. How could she? That’s too soon? That’s a bit harsh? What if the marriage could be saved? Surely you would regret that!
Well, let me tell you before my marriage fell apart, had I read this title I would have gasped in horror and thought the very same thing.
But when I went from being married, to unwillingly picked up, kicked in the heart and aggressively drop punted into being separated and a single mother within the space of 24 hours, things were suddenly very different.
Nothing can prepare you for that kind of shock, that kind of life altering, soul destroying, heart-wrenching realisation that after all the years of building a life together with your husband, after creating a family together, making a house a home together, sharing a bed with someone for over ten years… In a day, it all vanished. I was undeniably and unequivocally unloved and no longer wanted.
Much like my once favourite sweet smelling candle that burned and soothed as the flame flickered and danced in the darkness, my flame slowly began to fade in my husband’s heart. The scent of me over time was now barely noticeable, the burn marks of life’s twist and turns blackened on the inner glass didn’t appeal to him anymore. As the wax melted and it disintegrated into nothing… So did I as a wife and a valued person in my husband’s eyes. And out with the trash I went, only to be replaced with a new scent shortly after.
I would be a fool to deny that I didn’t know we were in trouble. But I was naive enough to believe that when you’re married and go through life’s storms, you exhaust every avenue possible before calling it quits. Unfortunately, however, it takes two to want to make it work. And I assumed he felt the same way. How very wrong I was.
When he left, I was left with nothing except most of our furniture and a dear little girl who I now had to pick up the pieces for. I had no money and no savings.
There is only one word to describe the way I felt.
Through utter disbelief and shock, I screamed down the phone at him ‘how the hell can you do this? Who are you!! How am I supposed to do this! How do you not even give a shit?’
Nothing sunk in. He was too far gone and detached from caring. 48 hours after he had left, his words to me were ‘maybe you should sell your wedding rings! Figure it out.’
That was it. That was the knife that stabbed me in the heart, twisted and pushed in so deep it physically hurt to breathe. Those words hurt me more than anything he had ever said or done. A part of me died that day.
It was at that very moment I knew there was no hope. Our marriage was over and he was gone.
My rings now hidden in the corner of my top draw haunted me.
The weeks that would follow that day consisted of lists, listed filled with ideas and plans of how to survive. Ideas of how to somehow pay the rent and put food on the table for my daughter and I. In the midst of my hell, logic kicked in and I was in no place to be prideful and not seek help.
Somehow, I managed to drag myself up out of bed each morning as I belly crawled through the rubble day after day in survival mode. If I’m honest, had it not been for my daughter, I’m not sure I would have made it out of that darkness alive.
But those rings. They sat there in that dark draw and even though hidden away, they were a constant reminder of how I was so unloved and unwanted. They were a symbol of promises broken and dreams shattered.
They had to go.
My rings were beautiful. If he hadn’t have picked them himself I honestly would have chosen the exact ones. White gold and a beautiful pear shaped diamond. They were perfect.
After wearing them for years they had almost become another appendage. In fact, when I attempted to throw them at him in my rage I struggled greatly to get them off my finger.
I actually had to lick my finger and dampen it in order to remove them! Something I can kind of laugh about now. How that must have looked in the heated monumental moment. There is still a subtle indent on my finger from where they once happily lived. And I hate it.
The day I decided to sell them, I carefully wrapped them in a tissue and put them in a little box. It was like my own memorial, burying them gently between the soft white layers and securing them with the lid tightly shut. Saying goodbye to the last thing that tethered me to being a wife. To being once loved.
I remember standing in the jewellery shop, feeling so exposed as the lady evaluated how much they were worth. It was like she was putting a price on my worth as a wife, putting a value on the last 10+ years of my life with this man.
I didn’t get much for them, but that wasn’t the point. I asked where they would be going and she said they would be resold. I pitied the next woman to fall in love with them. But then again, maybe I didn’t. Maybe my rings, now a little scratched and worn would, in fact, be the perfect rings for the next woman.
Because loving someone isn’t about seeking perfection. It’s about accepting and loving all those little imperfections. All the nicks and bumps and chips and smudges… Though we may be tarnished, we are still deserving of being treated like a rare diamond.
Sometimes I wander past that jewellery store and look in the window hoping to see my beautiful rings. But I haven’t seen them since that day… I truly hope they have had a chance to find real forever happiness.
Because I know I’m finally on the road there, with or without a ring on my finger. As tarnished as I am. I’m learning that I am beautifully broken and I am perfect in all my imperfect flaws.
I am on the journey of rediscovering true self-love. And while it’s a long winding bumpy road to get there, for me…. That is enough for now.
I am enough. I am worthy of love, and it begins with me.