Monday, September 20, 2004

I'm still dealing with the aftermath of what happened that early morning and every little thing that subsequently came afterwards. I still look at it in all it's imperfection. Sure, I took it off and threw it against the wall, hoping to break it beyond repair. But look at it now. Still intact, not as easy to wear, and definitely not as strong as it used to be. But it still serves it's function. But is the symbol of everything we worked for in the past year obsolete?

I'm hurting. It's a pain that I couldn't even begin to describe. No matter how much I yell, no matter how much I cry, and no matter how much I think about how it will get "better", I'm living in emotional agony. Every single second of my day was spent thinking about what could have been, what should have been, and what would have been. We're supposed to live our lives day to day, but our relationship was supposed relieve the stress of an uncertain future. No, I didn't have everything planned out, but I definitely could envision my right hand interlocked with your left, rubbing your wedding ring with my ring finger, both for comfort and luck. But I guess you didn't feel the same way. For a long time.

Honestly, my first reaction was to make you feel the pain in the manner that I feel it. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to take everything you cherished and loved away. I wanted you to feel hopeless. I wanted you to feel useless. I wanted you to feel as if there were nowhere to run. Just so maybe you can feel a tiny fraction of what I felt and feel.

So I took my ring off that early morning and threw it off the wall with more anger and absolute pain than I've ever attempted to express in my life. Why? Because to me, my wedding ring symbolized everything I've sacrificed to make things work between us. It is also a symbol of my promise to do everything in my power, regardless of circumstance, to love you and make you as happy as I possibly could. And at some point, you didn't feel it was enough.

I'm still hurting. I'm still insecure. I'm still scared of uncertainty. Because like my ring, our relationship has suffered unprecedented trauma that I'm not even sure it will survive. When you ask me if we'll be okay, I tell you "yes" not because I truly believe we'll be okay, but because it's my only option. I have to choice but to hope everything will be okay, because there isn't an "option b" in my life. You were my only option. I put all my eggs in one basket and counted them before they hatched.

I still can't believe what's happened. I still don't trust you. I still don't believe everything will be okay. But I still wear my ring in all it's deformity. The ironic thing is that now that it's bent, it fits better.

Go figure.