A Year ago I sat in a home I thought I would share with a man forever. My wedding dress was hanging in the closest, the loveliest thing I had ever owned. I had a count down going on FB, everything was ready.
What the heck was I thinking? I can see you know, yelping at your monitor like a wild woman. How on earth could you marry a man who hit you?
Yea, I know.
In the happiest of moments he was not that man. He was my true love. That's what I believed anyways.
The last couple days have been rough, really rough. I look back often as the date that would be my first anniversary. The anniversary we promised we would return to Costa Rica where we honeymooned. It would mark the first in many years together.
Instead I am sitting in a Starbucks Grande Green Tea Lemonade beside me as I sit hunched over Pouring my feelings out. Trying not to cry.
It's been six months of healing, and although the notion that my marriage failed hurts like bare feet on hot concrete- a lot of hot concrete. What troubles me the most is the thought that I used my shot. My chance to wear a white dress and walk down an aisle on my daddy's arm, my shot at planning and laughing and fighting through the process. I missed my chance to say that I married the (true) love of my life.
I was never one for marriage, I probably would have been fine without it. I could have been happy without it. But now that that shot is gone, I wish I had never cashed it in.
I know I wont be alone forever, I hope anyways. I know one day I will find that man who makes me happy without making a mark. I know I will one day get that happily ever after. And I know this person will love me with or without a ring.
I just cant help but wonder what my life would have been like without the divorce handstamp.
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