Naked

I was on the subway this morning on my way to work. I managed to get a seat today. Whenever I ride, I always look at people's hands. Specifically I look to see if they are wearing any rings. I have always done this. Before I was married, I was looking at ladies' hands to get ideas for what kind of engagement ring I would like. And of course, I would check out the guys' hands to see if the cute ones were single, taken, or just creeps for not wearing the ring but a tan line was clearly visable.

After getting married, I would constantly compare my engagement ring and wedding band to those around me. I would see all sorts of beautiful rings but I was still very satisfied with what I had. Silly I know, but hey, what else is there to do besides read the newspaper full of death and violence?

I finally took off my rings last week. I still wear a little diamond ring on my right hand which Simon had given me last May. It's a sweet, dainty little ring with 7 little diamonds all lined up in a row. It really sparkles for something so small. I had originally wanted it for my wedding band, but up against my mammoth 1.05 carat diamond engagement ring, it just got lost. Simon surprised me with it when he surprised me with dinner at the CN Tower on our 4 month wedding anniversary. It was the special fancy dinner we never had when we were in Vegas.

Today I was doing my usual looking-at-hands ritual and I was going to do my mental comparison when it hit me that I wasn't wearing my rings anymore. My symbols of matrimony were tucked away in a jewelry box at home.

Suddenly, my little mental game shifted. Now looking for the rings wasn't about jewelry comparison anymore. Now it was about which women on that subway car had a husband somewhere who loved them. Now it was about something they have which I no longer have. And then I became sad. And hopeless. And frustrated. And angry. And sad.

I started looking at their faces. Why is that young girl married already? Why is that ugly lady married? Why is that angry looking woman married? Forever and for always displayed right there on their hands. Don't they know I don't have that anymore? How can they scratch their cheek with their left hand? How can they hold onto the pole with their left hand? How is it they are happy when I'm not? What kind of men are they married to? Do they suffer in silence the way I have for the last 2 years? Or do they have happy, loving and fulfilling partnerships? What did they do right, and I do wrong?

I looked down at my little ring on my right hand. It's my little symbol of hope. The hope that one day my husband will do the right thing. That he'll do what it takes to piece our marriage back together. I know I'm just dragging out the healing process by holding on to hope in what seems to be a rather hopeless situation. But that's just me. I always hang on to the last threads until they cut into my skin. And as I bleed, I grasp for those threads which slice into me. And eventually, I let go. But not until I have held out to the bitter bloody end.