With this ring...

Ten years ago I was fully and completely in love. I may not have been all that excited about the future we were careening towards, nor did I feel completely in control of my life. But I did know with absolute certainty that when he took my hand, kissed my lips, placed his cheek on my belly, that I was safe, loved, cherished...

Five months later I was a married woman - with no idea how I'd gotten married, why it didn't feel 100% right, how to be a wife when I'd barely settled the idea that I was a woman. There were doubts leading up to the nuptials and doubts during and doubts after. The one thing I didn't doubt at all was that I had married the right man. I want to say that I was young and naive, that didn't see the warning signs because all I could see was him... and maybe that is true. Or maybe it just is what I think it is. The best of possibilities, the wrong timing. And that just sucks all around.

My birthday is next Saturday. I've been letting this blog grow as I do, change as I have, put my questions out into the universe, regardless of whether they get commented on or answered - I am a big believer in the intent and the effort and the thought counting. Today, my thoughts are on the ring that lives in my jewelry box, still loved, still meaning, still a weight to hold me down.

I remember when I was standing underneath those trees in the darkness, surrounded by people who were supportive and loving. I remember both of us having tears in our eyes, shaking a little, scared. I remember feeling swallowed by light when he slipped that ring onto my finger...

Ring has been off my finger for months now. I still sometimes rub the space where it was, when I'm nervous, when I'm edgy. I am still shocked sometimes that it isn't there - though an indentation of ten years is.

When he first abandoned me, with promises to return, to make our lives right, to give me the babies I had wanted and waited for for years... I took it off. Because part of me knew it was over - that he was lying to me again, trying to make himself feel better about it all. At that point I had no trust left - and rightfully so. But within a month, when I was struggling financially and knew I would have to do something drastic to keep myself afloat - it wasn't the diamond engagement ring that you got me after the Heidi-fiasco. It wasn't the garnet earrings you got me after Shannon. It wasn't the necklace from the very first one - whose name you say you don't recall, which makes it that much worse.

It was the ring, my ring. The one we picked out together when my belly was rounded with your child and there was still light and love in both of our eyes. We were in Parkland, visiting my very best friend, and being the team of two that we had always been, instinctive, dedicated, powerfully in love. We were so broke it was ridiculous - but we weren't unhappy. Money wasn't motivating us - a passion for each other was. You picked that ring because it was special and delicate and beautiful and unique - everything you said that I was.

You were the one who named me Asha.

Today I am going to sell that ring. Not for spite, more for necessity. And I am crying because I feel like it will kill my memories of that twosome, of being full of love, of believing in promises...

Might need some positive energy sent my way - its harder than I thought it would be.

-Asha