when I sold my wedding ring

The day I sold my wedding ring. I met some fool for semiprecious in the parking lot of a grocery store. He had his little diamond spectacles, mandrels and charts. A true enthusiast for purchasing jaded jewels. After we concluded our swift transaction and before parting ways, he looked at me with uninvited pity. It seemed like it was part of his routine. Buy the ring, all business. At the very end, act like a seasoned witness of broken promises. I don't know if he said this out loud or if it was written on his face, but he said to me, "tough times...tough times...I'm so sorry. Now I'm going to go try and make MORE money than you just made. Goodbye." there are men out there who will never understand... let them buy the ring. let them sell it for more and the more money they make, the less pity they take the less they know the more you are free the happier the next woman who might wear the ring or the more they melt it back down to nothing the less sorry you and they will all be I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I sold my rin I felt, as I did constantly in my life after my marriage, so much guilt. It was my ever chosen treasured emotion. Maybe I looked sad to the man who bought my wedding ring, but not for reasons he thought. I'm sure he made up the same old story of the woman being left behind, blindsided by a man's sudden escape. Really the sadness that followed me around was the guilt I felt for walking away from something that didn't appear on the surface to be problematic in any way. That I was a selfish girl who ripped herself and two unsuspecting children from home and tore a family apart. For what? To sew her oats or something obnoxious like that? Nothing that could be recognized or seen. I carried that burden so heavily with me everywhere I went and with everything I did. I knew in my heart what I knew, but even for me it was often hard to see, explain and understand why I left, and furthermore, what in the world I was going to do now. With no career and no source of income, I was living off fallen feathers and lucky pennies. I used all the cash I made that day and went straight to the bank to open my own account. My main reason for doing this was so my ex-husband could no longer check my purchases and ask "Why did you buy a plane ticket to LA? Shouldn't he pay for that?" It's funny how I could have so much guilt and sorrow, and so much audacity all at once. leave your old ring to the Diamond King so you can totally be the girl whose waiting on some giant pearl that's almost always never whole but when it is, it knows your soul and you can feel the gentle pull that shifts the tides a new kind of bride the glowing moon you make your groom. a diamond or a pearl it's up to the girl it's always up to the girl Sometimes there is a course of action you know must be taken, but it is so paralyzing and scary that the only way you end up doing it is by making poor decisions to get you there. Such was my getaway plan. Find a different man who gives me all the permissions I don't have the decency to give myself. Hate myself for it. Look to new man to stop me from hating myself. He fails miserably. Ex husband fails miserably. All men fail to make me happy. Everyone is dissapointed. I'm not enough for anyone, especially myself. I drive from grocery store parking lots to the bank and back again in shaking cold sweats and tears. I carry on. I take care of my kids with my whole heart and soul. I sob every night. I feel like the worst mom ever. I wish to give them the world. I can't give myself a speck of grace. I'm the message in a bottle out at sea but I'm still wondering what my message will be no matter who reads it no matter who sees it the words... what will they mean. what of the man who so long ago got down on one knee? he's still a King just not for me just like the old diamond ring. there is a voice that whispers, as many times as the waves crash onto the scene... "You Are Not A Queen." All grown ass men aside, my new life I had with my two tiny boys was shaping up to be incredibly sweet, adventurous and miraculous. It was such little things of course, like when we moved into our new apartment and ate breakfast on camp chairs and used toy bins as tables. We had all these crazy new neighbors that we made up stories and jokes about. We laughed a lot. They loved me. I slept in their bunk bed with them. The first windy night we hid in my closet together with all our pillows and blankets because it was the only place in the apartment where the wind wasn't screaming at us through the windows. The first time in my life I was ever living on my own wasn't until after I had two kids. In that regard, they navigated that right of passage alongside me. They were so brave. They were so tender. I was so brave. I was so tender. I had no proper message I had too many apologies I swam toward the sound, a horn or a trumpet got more clear as I drew near it was more pronounced all other whisperings it drowned out a proclomation it beckoned me only the way it would a queen whose castle is a lighthouse dream and I am the keeper the only keeper I am the beacon and I am the swimmer I am the reflector I am the collector I am the diamond and I am forever. as green as emeralds was the ground the sea and sky in turquoise collide a ruby red stripe was wound all the way up to the catwalk crown and off in the distance into the trees onyx all around. Wilhelmina of the woods; you have been found. your wandering days are far from over but you're free to stick around. Wilhelmina all in black barefoot, and such a gem pretty and soft as a ballerina we will never give you back or sell you off to them