At the risk of sounding arrogant, I will tell you that I wear a beautiful eternity ring on the 4th finger of my left hand. It comprises of little diamond studs worth the deposit for a huge mansion – and not in a diminutive suburban village in the middle of nowhere, no! I, recipient and eternal beneficiary of said ring, am for the most part, grateful – most days! I tend to sashay around in my little bubble reminding myself repeatedly about the day it was given to me. He pledged his love all over again. He sang along as he played the guitar. He sang ‘when God made you’ (Google it in one of your soppy moments, it’s a potently beautiful tear jerker). So that’s what I do 80% of the time. 20% of the time, I feel like ‘bleh’ (total crap – excuse my language), and today, I am going to write about it.
I love my rock! Most of my friends want it. If they understood what wearing it entailed, perhaps they would be less enthusiastic in their blatant envy and sometimes resentment. So I sit on the train this Thursday morning in May and as the Spring/Summer sun causes it to sparkle conspicuously, erratically, wildly and brightly, so equally matched are the thoughts in my head which scream out violently, deafeningly and just as erratic.
Giver of said ring, aka husband, tends to think that money can buy him everything he wants. In most cases, it does. I think expecting to be treated like royalty when you have an abundant supply of money is perhaps understandable, maybe subconscious. BUT (-and here comes the rant):
I am not your slave. I do not have to be everything you want me to be, especially someone I am not. I will tell you how wonderful a person you are, but I refuse to massage your ego if it means that you and/or I will have to put myself down in the process. I will cook your meals and even do you a 3 course on the odd occasion, but I will reserve the right to order you a take-out in the event that I have chicken pox…or like when the cat died or I couldn’t fit into my size 0 jeans and sunk into depression as a result. While we are on that subject, I relish your constructive criticism, but I would like you to love me just as I am – size 0 or 24. Should it matter? Didn’t you preach your love to me? Come to bed with me regardless of my size.
I need, for my own sanity, to have my own opinions. If the BBC News is a Sad movie and makes me cry, don’t give me that ‘you are pathetic’ look in disgust, appreciate that I am who I am; after all, I think Spiderman is a stupid, pointless movie, but I will enjoy the story line for your sake. These are the things that matter babe. If you buy me daisies every now and again, well that’s a bonus, if you don’t, that’s fine too… I promise. It really does not matter as long as you respect the person that I am. In return for this, I will give you everything within my power to, and if I cannot, I will give the best compromise, you won’t even know the difference. This is my eternal promise.
While some of these are just my metaphor for some of the despicable things that happen within a marriage, I will recap by saying: I am my own individual in my own right. I want to look in the mirror and be your eternity woman, but I also want to be who I am and be ok about it. Once again, I thank you for my beautiful ring, but the moment life persistently feels like less of a compromise and more like a *$”%&^* lifelong custodial sentence, or like a knife stabbing at my heart over and over again, or like a brain tumour, or some kind of spiritual bondage, or…..*breathe*, I will chuck your damned eternity ring into the River Thames. Babe, because I am the mother of your kids and your wife (proudly so), but before any of all that, my name is Sally Chiwuzie and that is who I will be until the day I die, and even then it will be engraved on my tomb-stone – ‘Proudly Sally’. Any attempt to muck about with this reality or rock the foundation of my being will be treated like a terrorist attack and you know how seriously such offences are taken, especially in light of recent events.
I love you much more than the eternity ring. And yes, I am a diva – fact! But here is another fact – I am the only diva in this world who can love you the way you want and need to be loved. I tick all your boxes and do the all-rounder thing. That’s why you married me. Yet another fact – the demise of our marriage will be most unfortunate, but we will live through it. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I am grateful for my ring, but it means nothing- absolutely diddlysquat if you do not love me the right way!
Note to reader: For the purpose of this article, I wrote in first person because it was easier to express my thoughts this way. It is hardly relevant to my own personal circumstances, but if it’s easier, please construe as you wish, that’s fine. This is on one condition though – take the message contained within along with you on your journey. The message? Whoever you are, you are made to perfection. Your uniqueness was stamped and authorised by God himself. Look in the mirror everyday and recognise yourself. If today you do not, think carefully. You were never born to be a slave!
Until next time, let’s dig deep!