I've been looking at my ring finger on my left hand, for almost a year. It was last July that I cut it off my finger in some sort of symbolic gesture of ending it all, well, the marriage.
I'd been telling a very small circle of friends for about a year, that it was gonna happen. SOME I even told why. Mostly I just implied it to people who didn't matter, who didn't really care. I was talking myself into this. Not that I needed to, really, I had known for years the marriage was over and nothing was gonna change. Last summer a friend got in my face and said, "I don't think you want to leave. You only talk about it. Why haven't you left yet? I hear lots of excuses.'" Ok, that friend WAS a man and my reasons were not really excuses. I was very concerned about going broke, because of my job situation and here I am, broke. I wanted to wait til I had a different job and again, here I sit, thinking that is never gonna happen. So broke or not, I AM glad I am out.
But that ring finger??? I cut the ring off because I wanted it OFF! I didn't want to go to a jeweler and make up an excuse but it was stuck on my fat finger. It hasn't been off in 15 years. I was married for 21, had it off for a while when I was pissed early on but realizing I had two small children and no real means of survival for all of us, I put the ring back on and waited.
It bothers me. That finger, it bothers me. I still move my thumb on the back of the ring finger to adjust a ring that's not there. Like a phantom limb, I think I can feel it needing to be adjusted. Then there is the nasty dent. My ring finger looks like those seedy salesmen who when they are out of town, slipping their ring in their pocket to play games. It's no longer frog belly white like last summer but that damn dent is STILL there. I mean it's noticeably. If you were a hot guy, checking me out and scanned that finger for a ring, you say, "Damn, what is she up too?" So no hot guys are currently checking me out but yunno, it could happen. But mostly I don't like it because it reminds ME. I see it all the time. Reminds me of the day I cut my finger hacking that ring off my hand. Reminds me of the day when I was real low on cash and I tried to find out how much my $1,700 diamond investment was worth. Surely that emerald cut was still worth something. Yeah right, diamonds are an investment. The guy told me he'd give me $35 for the gold. Told me the diamonds weren't worth anything unless I wanted to try to sell them on Craigslist and maybe I could get $300. Seriously, I'd like to go back to 1990 and choke that skinny clerk who talked me into the wrap I didn't really want. Investment my ass. The wedding ring is supposed to be a symbol of your love. A symbol of the perpetual joining of a man and woman (sorry, I don't feel like correcting myself to be politically correct) til the end of time, blah, blah blah.
Myy ring, cut in half, twisted, metal all jagged, is still a symbol too. Pretty obvious, don't think I need to spell that one out. So when I see that finger, with that marital scar, that dent from a ring that dug into my flesh, I get a lil' pissed. I want it gone and it isn't showing signs of fading. So the obvious solution is, another ring. One that doesn't look like an engagement ring or a wedding ring. I was thinking it would be equally symbolic to purchase that ring, in the same month of the year before that I made my grand gesture. Yee-ah, no job, not gonna happen. So maybe on September 27th, the year anniversary the divorce was final, I will get a celebration of being single ring. Whoopee, ok that was a sarcastic whoopee but really, Whoopee. I AM single, by MY choice. With the shit year I have had, with the job struggles, with the money struggles and where I sit RIGHT now, with technically no future by some standards, I feel good. This stress is different. I am not consumed by it. I am not overwhelmed by it. Yes, I still panic but honestly, I am at peace with this. I made the right choice. I cut the dead weight and I truly have the whole world ahead of me. Like a high school graduate with the whole great wide world in front of them. I could go anywhere, do anything, be with whomever I want to be and live my life by my rules.
That does feel good. 'I' am my only responsibility. My choices only effect me. Thing is, I have NO clue where I want to be or what I want to do. I am like a horse turned out to pasture who still thinks they are tied to the gait. I'm grazing near the fence. I need to get running out in the pasture. I need to kick up my heels and be free. The marks on my face from wearing that halter too long, keep me near the fence. There is a trick cowboys taught their horses, that if the reins dropped, the horse stopped and stayed put. You couldn't be miles from home and lose your ride back. It's called ground tying. The horse isn't tied to anything but once the reins are dropped, straight down, the horse will stop and stay there. They won't pull away for greener grass or a drink of water. They can be spooked and run loose but once that run is over and those reins drop to the ground again, there they will be. Someone needs to yell, YeeHaw and get me moving...somewhere.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWIVi_Oa4as
