marriage

i belong to you?

commitment, marriage, possession, relationship, relationships, wedding ring

I had a discussion with someone recently who felt the wedding ring is a reminder that you're married and that you belong to someone. 

me: “So the ring is about possession? I belong to you?”

him: “Yeah. You belong to me. I belong to you. We're married.”

Um, excuse me?

I'll go ahead and give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he just said it wrong.  I mean, we were two sheets to the wind at the time. And thinking otherwise leaves me feeling baffled and… angry.

I understand the sentiment and point he was trying to make.  There is a certain romantisism about 'belonging' to someone, about going somewhere together and people seeing and knowing you're with the other person.  But for me it's more about the body language and the way you treat each other that shows 'together'.  More about the hand holding and smiles and tenderness between two people in love.  Not some outward and bling-y exclamation of 'til-death-do-us-part coupledom.

Not at any point in a healthy relationship is the commitment about possession.  You don't possess me.  I'm not yours.  I don't own you.  I'm mine and you are yours.  That's what makes this work. Possession breeds jealousy, envy, and resentment. Not tenderness, caring, and respect.

A ring is the physical symbol of the emotional commitment you share with the other person.  More about “I want to share my life with you.  Will you share yours with me?” Less about “You complete me.”

I would say, if you need a ring to 'remind' you that you're committed, you might want to examine your level of commitment.  Because there are bigger issues at play.

Believe me, I'm pro-wedding ring.  I look forward to the day I get to wear one again.  But I am NOT pro-possession.  I only belong to me.

plan a or plan b?

baby, college, dreams, education, gender roles, life, marriage, plan, relationships, single, tradition

Plan b

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I realized a while ago that I can't live my life while having regrets about the past.  From exes to decisions about work and school.  Everything is connected and if I am unsettled about one aspect, the others suffer too.

Plan A – College was more about going to find someone to marry and have pretty babies with.  If I got an education in the mean time it was a bonus.  I don't think this perspective was something that was taught to us as impressionable young women on purpose.  But I know a whole generation of women my age who have a similar view on how life is supposed to work.

Plan B – Being the provider was always secondary. “Go to college so you can learn a skill so that if something happens to your husband and he's not able to provide for you and your children then you can do it.”  Always secondary.

I have no issues with traditional gender roles.  The system works beautifully for a ton of people.  On the other hand, it's not something that should be planned on. 

College was more about getting married and starting a family, the thought of supporting myself and living as a single person was definitely Plan B.  Never something I thought I would actually have to do. Though I remember the specific moment when I realized that if I had to live with Plan B for the rest of my life, it was better than what I was currently living.

For a while I was on track with Plan A. I was clicking along at a good pace and then the rug came out from underneath.  I felt as thought someone had come along and hit the reset button without warning me.  Heaven forbid they ask permission to do such a thing.  It took me a while before realizing that no one hit the reset button, I did. 

And now, while things are not as I planned when I was 16, I don't have regrets about the way things have gone for me.  I may be disappointed that certain events didn't turn out differently, but no regrets. And for some reason, disappointment and regret don't quite feel like the same thing.

It's be a while since I felt like Plan A was something I would be able to plan on.  But I've fought to keep it, probably harder than I should have.  And because Plan B was the secondary plan, I never gave it the attention it needed and deserved.  

Only in the last few months have I accepted that Plan A is supposed to be Plan B.  Because I can't really plan on someone sweeping in and sweeping me off my feet and having a hundred pretty babies.  First of all, it's not realistic.  Second, no guy really wants that.  Not like that.

I've experienced a mental shift that makes Plan B the new Plan A.  And now I'm off to conquer  the world by myself.  Because I can't settle for someone doing it for me.  And why would I want them to?