This post over at Tall Glass of Vino got me to thinking about my own rings. As most of you know, my marriage is pretty much a sham and there are days when putting on "the rings" just seems to be too much for me to bear. They feel like shackles - reminders of this hellish prison in which I live day to day. I feel a physical aversion to putting them on my ring finger - even though the diamond in my engagement ring belonged to my grandmother and my diamond wedding band to my mother. It's the fact that they represent a marriage that is so far gone and a relationship that drains the very lifeblood from my body that causes me to recoil at the mere thought of donning them.
Who ever thought that such gorgeous gems could cause such a reaction?
1 comment:
ah yes... my old wedding band was my inheretted grandmother's wedding band, which did make me sad to take off. I still have them both, in the same velvet box the engagement ring came in, and although I ponder why I keep them, and what I'll ever do with them, I am still very happy that I no longer wear them.
Hang in there. You're working things out (not necessarily the marriage, but all the stuff that is bigger scope - the stuff that makes you and your life a joyous experience).
Post a Comment