I sold my wedding rings today.
It solidified everything I already knew – my marriage is over. I have no proof outside of tucked away divorce papers to ever let you know he was in my life.
I cried. A lot. My rings were my most beautiful earthly possessions but I hadn’t worn them since December. I got that gorgeous engagement ring on July 22, 2010 and we went together and bought my wedding band on July 29. He had excellent taste. I remember the funny story of how he was keeping them in his bedside table and one day I had to get something out of it and his whole family knew my rings were there. They all braced themselves in panic waiting on me to discover the box…but I was so oblivious I never even noticed!
I remember having that ring slipped onto my finger and what it felt like.
I remember in 2013, the jewelry store lost my original wedding band and how I bawled like an infant because that ring was everything that I deemed important in my life. They replaced it with the same ring luckily, but I was infuriated.
I remember the phone call saying it was gone, how I crawled into bed with him (he had worked overnight and slept during the day) and cried to him while he comforted me.
And now here I was voluntarily giving them up. I was carrying them around in their little silver box in my purse with the knowledge that one day I would be dropping into Zales for a cleaning and inspection and then strike up the conversation with the salesperson…”Sooo…I’m no longer in need of these rings, how does one go about selling them?”
I remember the day I decided to stop wearing them – I was still in Birmingham and I had already asked for the divorce and so there really was no sense in wearing them anymore. I consciously went about my business getting ready for work and just casually skipped over putting them on. I went all day rubbing my ring finger with my thumb and having sudden panic thinking I’d lost them somewhere before remembering. It didn’t hurt as much as I actually thought it was going to…
Everything had hurt up to the extreme up until this point so I was expecting it but along came nothing. I was done. Selling them though, now that was another story. He had been calling me and trying to reconcile but once again, failed to pull through. The idea of reconciliation really messed with me. I knew it had to be done.
I made the decision last night – my rings must go. I woke up and drove to the mall and gave the Zales lady the speech. At the very end, I started crying because I’m a weak ass bitch who can’t handle anything anymore and she apologized to me and told me it’ll get easier in time. She recommended trying the jewelry store across the way so I checked with them and gave the speech again. The buyer told me he has no use for what I’ve got (yeah, me neither bud) and offered a discouraging amount to which I politely declined, snapped the box closed, and walked out. The original sales lady recommended a pawn shop about 10 miles away that specializes in diamonds and jewelry. I wanted to ignore that option as most pawn shops are seedy but after a quick Google search in the car, I decided it may be worth a shot. They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, but I nearly did anyway. I eventually tried to muster up all the false courage I had and took a cavalier approach – “Fuck it, let’s do it” and had him draw up the paperwork.
Everyone tells me how strong I am right now but this is all false confidence.
Fake it till ya make it! As I stood at the counter and watched him drop my rings into a tiny little envelope I wanted to break down so badly. The guys behind the counter made jokes about how it looks like I’m on the run from the law with so many different former addresses and an out of state phone number, I giggled and humored them but mostly I just wanted it to be done and over with so I could leave. And that was that. The envelope of rings went with the buyer and the envelope of cash went with me to the bank.
My last tangible memories of married life. It sounds so dramatic doesn’t it?
I started thinking when I got home…ya know, I could be responsible and save this money for bills and rent, or maybe…just maybe, I can turn this situation around and use it for something fun.
“Fun” is not responsible, I’m aware, but I have money for “responsible”. I feel like this symbolizes something bigger so I’ve decided to treat myself – I’ll be using this money to book a trip to New York in the fall.
I’ve realized that my main reason for having such a hard time with this is the memories attached to them, so now that they’re gone I can start making new memories for myself thanks to them…and him, as well.