Why I Stopped Wearing My Wedding Ring

Summary

The author has stopped wearing her wedding ring as a symbolic acknowledgment of the end of her marriage, which has been devoid of love and mutual responsibility.

Abstract

The author describes the emotional journey leading to her decision to remove her wedding ring, a piece of jewelry she once cherished and wore proudly. The ring, a plain white gold band with a personal engraving, represented commitment, devotion, and love. However, after years of marriage filled with arguments and a growing sense of disconnection, the author accidentally left the ring off after baking and decided to keep it off, signifying her acceptance of the marriage's failure. Despite the initial discomfort and feelings of nakedness and loss, the author has come to terms with the reality that her marriage is over, a realization seemingly shared by her husband, who did not notice the absence of the ring.

Opinions

The author views the wedding ring as a symbol of love, commitment, and mutual support in a marriage.
The author and her husband had differing tastes in wedding bands, which led to compromises in their initial choices.
The author believes that her husband has also acknowledged the failure of their marriage, as evidenced by his lack of reaction to her not wearing the ring.
The author feels that wearing the ring no longer holds meaning for her, as the love and commitment it represents have dissipated.
The author experiences a sense of personal failure in the marriage's dissolution, despite recognizing that both partners contributed to the relationship's breakdown.

It’s been almost four weeks, and my life is not the same anymore.

It was a sunny April Sunday four years ago when he pulled out a small black box out of his pocket. We were sitting on the felled tree by the river. He said that he loves me and wants to spend our life together. He asked me to be his wife, and I said yes without a second thought.

Just like all of the jewelry that I own, my ring is not fancy. It is a plain white gold band with a personal engraving inside in Elvish— elegant and simple, but with a zing. Just like me. It is a perfect ring, and I absolutely love it. But I don’t want to wear it anymore.

I remember the day we bought our bands. My husband was obsessed with the idea that they have to be exactly the same. The only problem was that I didn’t want (and didn’t like) the ones that he chose, while he thought that mine were too minimalistic. We argued over the topic hundreds of times, but none of us wanted to step back. Eventually, we ended up buying two different rings but kept it in one style.

For me, a wedding band is a symbol of many different things — commitment, devotion, support, appreciation, care, but, above all, love. This last thing is not something I have been feeling in my marriage lately.

For almost three years, the ring he put on my finger on the day of our wedding has been worn proudly, for everyone to see. Combined with my engagement ring, they’ve made the perfectly beautiful couple. Now, they are both gone. Put away in the jewel box, kept from sight.

I did not take off my ring on purpose of not to wear it ever again, it was an accident. I always remove it when making dough — don’t want to spoil the tender metal. I have not returned the ring back on its place after baking, I simply forgot.

After a couple of hours when I realized that my ring was gone, I suddenly thought that maybe, just maybe, it has to stay gone. I deliberately decided not to put it back on; it was my way of admitting my failure.

I failed. As a wife, as a partner, as a lover, as a friend. I know, it takes two to break the relationship, and my husband did his part too, but I can only hold the responsibility for myself.

The first week after I stopped wearing my ring, it was weird. My finger felt naked, unprotected. Like it was missing something. I couldn’t stop looking at my empty hand, feeling like I was dying inside little by little. It was painful. Because I’ve never imagined myself doing it. Not when I got married, not when we were on the rocks. For a long time, I thought we were solid. I was wrong. My life went downhill, and I have the front-row seat.

I thought my husband would be pissed when he sees what I’ve done, but…he just didn’t notice. Days became weeks, and he still didn’t say a thing. I guess it was his way of admitting his failure.

He used to notice everything. I don’t know if he still cares about our marriage; from what I see, he forgot what it’s like to love me. So, it’s time for us to face the truth.

This is the reason why I don’t want to put back on a ring, which does not mean the same thing anymore. It’s hard, it hurts like hell, but it’s time to admit the truth: my marriage is over, and there is no point of wearing the symbol of it any longer.