Promise Ring

I was sifting through a box of ancient memories last night when I pulled out a little white box and remembered right away what it contained. With a nostalgic smile, I opened the box, and right there staring at me in the face… The smallest diamond you will ever see. I gave up two years of my life for this?  I ask myself. Studying this microscopic diamond laid in a thin, white gold band, I immediately saw all the opportunities I had missed, all the boys I didn’t kiss, to stay faithful to a man who, much like this luster-less promise ring, turned out to be a gigantic disappointment.

Then I realized, there was a time when this pathetic little ring was exactly what I wanted. Flipping through a catalog, it caught my eye and I adored it (I was a simpler, naïve girl back then). Casually showing the photo to my best friend, I put it on my mental wish list and gave it no more thought. It wouldn’t even enter my mind again till weeks later, when my then-boyfriend handed me this little jewelry box, in it the exact ring I fell in love with from the catalog. Looking back, I realized how much I relied on the overwhelming feelings I felt that night to get me through what would become two years of crying, yelling, fighting, abuse, and total emotional warfare. “How did he know??” I’d ask myself. “He went through all this trouble! He must really know me! He must really love me!  This ring is a symbol of our happily ever after!”  Boy, was I mistaken.

No, this ring will forever represent the worst relationship of my life, serving as a tiny – but vivid – reminder of what rock bottom feels like. Looking at it will always bring back sky-high levels of anxiety my shrink’s put me on Lexapro to control, but in the back of my mind, I’ll always remember… Once upon a time, it was exactly what I wanted.

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One Response

  1. An interesting, reflective post. It reminds me of Missy Higgins’ song ‘Scar’. The ring is your scar.

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