I Wear a Ring

I wear a ring on the fourth finger on my right hand.

The ring, I purchased weeks after the physical separation of my marriage was official while awaiting the legal separation to offer a sense of closure that my greatest mistake was documented with the courts.

I bought the simple band of diamonds in white gold for myself after my engagement and wedding band were confiscated by an angry husband on his fifth and final time walking out on me. There were no threats of going back on his commitment to walk away this time, only action. The same day he left his wedding band on the bookshelf, where the cat would find it and play with it for weeks before I pawned it along with any other valuable jewelry he had given to me in order to attempt to pay the over-priced rent with which he left me alone.

I wear this ring as a reminder that I can do for myself everything that someone else can do for me.

To this point, diamonds I’ve received from others has not been as the result of love that is true. But the diamonds I’ve worn daily for over nine years is absolutely a symbol of my resiliency and dedication to the protection of my own heart.

This ring is important to me; it reminds me to remember that I matter… even if my value is no longer of significance in someone else’s eyes.

Not flashy, my ring’s simplicity is its most treasured attribute. I survived, I got better, I learned, and I’ve loved again. Simply: life goes on.

Do you have something that reminds you that you matter. It’s truly only important, though, that you know.