Happily Ever After
Authentic Cubic Zirconia
He drops to his knee.
Reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small box.
As it opens, you catch the unmistakable sparkle of a diamond.
Or is it?
Perhaps it is merely the suggestion of a diamond, manufactured crystal crafted to resemble the real thing.
So answer this –
Which would you rather receive – a fake diamond or authentic cubic zirconia?
In the first, the ring is presented as authentic, the hard stone born from eons under pressure.
In the latter, the ring is presented as what it is. Somewhat less than ideal, but entirely real.
In my first marriage, I chose the fake diamond of a relationship. On its surface, it was perfect. And I didn’t want to know the truth, the production that made it so beautiful. He told me it was real. Staged elaborate demonstrations to prove it was real. And I bought it, hook line and sinker.
And then, it was as though I went to sell the ring of the marriage in desperate need of money, only to find that it was worth merely pennies.
And now?
Now I proudly have a marriage of authentic cubic zirconia. It’s real, not perfect. It took intention and effort to form rather than the accidental and incidental creation of a diamond.
It’s beautiful, reflecting light into the dark corners. No illusion is needed to amplify its sheen.
There is no need to pretend it is more than it is. No need for the dance of words to create perceived value. No need for endless productions to convince others of its authenticity.
What it is is enough.
Imperfections and all.
After all, life is more beautiful with imperfections intact.
When we reveal and even embrace our humanness and accept it in others.
When we work to create beauty rather than illusions.
So, I ask you again. What would you prefer?
A fake diamond
or
Authentic cubic zirconia?
A Kiss at Halftime: Love, Trust and the Super Bowl
Four years ago, I turned my cheek when my date at a Super Bowl party tried to kiss me.
That date is now my husband.
If you had told me then that I would be in a home with that same man hosting our own Super Bowl party, I would have scoffed. After all, that wasn’t in my plans.
Luckily he gave me another shot. Even though he still teases me about that night:)
You never really know what the future will hold. Be curious.
Last year’s Super Bowl was an exercise in trust for me, as my then-fiance and his cousin traveled to New Orleans for the game (and Mardi Gras).
That was a pivotal weekend for me in learning to trust myself and in layering positive memories over old.
You never really know what you’re capable of. Believe in yourself.
And tonight, when he kisses me, I won’t turn away. I’m no longer afraid of love.
Snow Days
This is what happens when I’m pretty much trapped inside the house for three days. Enjoy:)
The Dark Passenger
Sometimes I wish I could talk to my ex.
Not the man of now, whoever and wherever he is.
Nor the man that sent the text that ended the marriage.
But the man I was married to several years ago.
The man that was sliding on that slippery slope to utter destruction yet still seemed to have a grasp on reality.
I wish I could I talk to him.
And ask him how it felt to split into two.
How it felt to live one life aloud while whispering the other.
How it felt to believe that no one would accept him for who he was.
How it felt to carry the ever-increasing burden of the dark passenger.
Brock and I just finished watching the first season of Dexter last night, a first viewing for him and a second for me. The show had an entirely different meaning for me now.
You see, the first time I watched it, I may as well have been sitting next to Dexter, the friendly serial killer. Now, as far as I know, my ex wasn’t a killer. But I sure see reflections of him in Dexter’s struggles to feed his dark passenger while maintaining a smile. To everyone around him, Dexter is normal with a job, a sister and even a girlfriend. But he is playing pretend. Behind the scenes, Dexter is a killer who, based upon the “code” his father taught him, targets only other killers. The first season focuses on Dexter’s struggles to maintain balance between the two lives and to sustain the illusion that he was just like everyone else.
I wish I talk to my ex and ask him if he related to Dexter at the time.
Did he also feel like he was born from some long-ago tragedy?
Did he feel the drive to satisfy dark urges and keep them under wraps?
Did he also learn to pretend to be normal while viewing himself as anything but?
Was it strange to sit on the sofa next to his unsuspicious wife while watching a similar drama play out on screen?
Or, did he not see himself in Dexter at all, convinced that he was in control of whatever was happening? That somehow he was special. Different.
I wish I could talk to him so that I could understand what initiated his fracture.
So that I could see the bigger picture.
The whole of him rather than just the side he presented.
The man and his dark passenger.
But most of all, I just hope that wherever he is, he has decided that the dark passenger has ridden long enough.
And kicked him to the curb.
I’m sure part of the show’s appeal comes from the ability of all us to relate to Dexter’s dichotomy to some extent. We all have parts of ourselves that we view as dark, even unlovable. We all sometimes feel as though we are pretending, worried that others may see through the act. I believe the lesson in the both the show and in my ex’s life is that the dark passenger only grows more powerful when isolated from the whole person. Accept yourself. Ask for help. And bring some light to the dark.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 