The Safety Zone

The story of a hiding place that allowed me to slowly cope:

I am a “suck it up and keep going” kind of woman so it angered me that the break up took such a toll on me and that the affect lasted longer than I thought it should. I didn’t want to face the problem I just wanted it gone; but anyone with experience knows that doesn’t work well. I needed to confront the issue and deal with it in small doses but there were two problems with that. For one, at the time, I didn’t realize that was what needed to be done and two I didn’t know how to do it. I did however want to get away from it and somehow in my attempt to run away I ran right into the thing I needed most, a safety zone. I found this zone in books. I was never a reader. In high school English was the class I feared the most. If it hadn’t been for the movies of the books we were suppose to read I would not have passed the classes. Which makes my safety zone even odder, but at least it worked. The books gave me a separate world I could go to that was all my own. A place where there were no memories of first love and first heartbreak. My first real chance to quietly sort out the “real” world I was so desperately trying to hide from. I found this hiding place in a certain set of books, the name of which I will not mention. The pain that tightened my chest and made it hard to breathe would disappear when I picked up these books. I read them as often as I could and completed the series numerous times. If I wasn’t working or sleeping then I was reading. I was able to slowly come to terms with what had happened by using the books to dull the pain. I give these books the credit for calming the storm that was my life at the time and still resort back to them in times of stress. Feeling comfort and peace within their pages and at home in the pictures the words so eloquently paint. The sense of home I found in those pictures made me long to feel at home in the real world, something I hadn’t felt in many years. This longing inspired a vacation and a journey that would lead me to the home I had been searching for.

The Second Ring

The story of a life saving, every day reminder:

The second ring has been a fixture to the process I have been referring to. Its story starts at the “beginning” when I chose to give my engagement ring back to him at the end of the relationship. A stupid choice from what I have been told but at the time I was too shocked to care. He rode off into the sunset, my rings in hand, leaving me with a tall bill to pay and a useless men’s wedding band.  I was quick to find that nothing about weddings is refundable but had hopes that maybe the small fortune I had spent on his ring could be returned. I walked into Kay Jewelers with the bitter taste of his absence fresh in my mouth to return the tainted piece of jewelry. Kay’s was quick to give their condolences but not their money, of course a refund was too much to ask, though they did offer to exchange his ring for one of my choice. I didn’t figure that to be a bad deal, seeing as how his ring was of no use to me. In fact, the idea of owning a new ring made me realize it felt odd not to be wearing the other one anymore; and, if I am being honest, it was the least I deserved after all of this drama. I cheerfully picked a new ring in the color of my birthstone to be ordered and sized. It took a week or so for my new ring to be prepared as I waited impatiently to be rid of his wedding band and painful reminder. I went with excitement when the time came to make the exchange. As I put my ring on my hand and gave them his a string of thoughts entered my head: “Man that was easy… Nothing about weddings is refundable but this isn’t a half bad deal… It’s almost too easy!” And as the smile I thought had been lost began to appear on my face I was interrupted by a voice. “I am sorry but this ring (his) was purchased more than 90 days ago the time for exchanges has past. Of course you are more than welcome to buy that on if you would like.” The smile quickly faded as I handed them my shiny prize and took back the cursed symbol of love. I couldn’t afford to buy a new ring on top of all the wedding bills I was having to pay off. It seemed so unfair that he was still taking things from me long after he had walked away. But there was no reason to argue with the jewelers so I made my exit feeling the wounds he had made throb again. I continued to pine for my perfect ring as the months flew by but I did not mention it until my birthday. I don’t remember how the conversation with my co-worker/ mentor started; it must have been about what I wanted for my birthday. I told her about the story of my second ring with sadness and admitted that I still wished it could be mine. She was quick to understand my pain as well as to ask the obvious question. “Why don’t you just buy the ring for yourself?”….. My answer was simple “I shouldn’t waste that much money.” What she said next completely changed the path I was taking and put me on the one that led me to where I am today. She told me to buy the ring and before I could interrupt with an excuse as to why that was wrong she explained why. The explanation, in short, was that I should get the ring as a gift to myself, as symbol that I valued myself and as a reminder that my life was about me and making myself happy. She said you could call it your “about me” ring. Needless to say her speech had me sold on the idea. I checked the internet that night to see if the ring was still in stock but sadly it could not be found. I was sad not to find it online but wanted to believe that maybe the one I had ordered had survived Valentines Day at my local store. It was a far fetched idea but I clung to it as I drove to the jewelers. I searched the glass cases with desperation and was elated when my eyes fell upon it. Not only had it made it through the holidays, it was on sale!!! That was fate enough for me. I paid the bill and slid the ring onto my finger. It fit better than I imagined. I now slide that ring onto my finger every morning. It gives me the strength to love myself for who I am and live my life for me. It is the second ring to be on my hand and a reminder of the second chance I have at life. It is proof of a happy ending.