The Haunting

I don’t truly believe in ghosts, that is, ghost stories. Sure, I’ve felt some crazy things going on in my house. Shadows and noises and one night I was woken up by a hand shaking my leg only to find no one there. But that’s another scary story for another day. And even though I can’t explain the hand in the night, I can’t say that I believe in ghosts. But I do believe in memories that haunt. Experiences that linger. Pain that shows up at the worst possible moment. Like, for instance, last night.
Ryan and I currently have about 485 things to accomplish in the next 61 days. I made a list that details each item in a daily task list, each day having its own set of tasks. On the list for yesterday was getting my engagement ring sized. I’ve been needing to do this since Ryan gave it to me, but I’ve been putting it off. I had an inkling something might go haywire. But, I also don’t want my ring to fly off my hand and into traffic where it would be promptly flattened. So, yesterday at lunch Ryan and I went to the jeweler to get it sized down one whole size. I spent all afternoon at my desk having tiny panic attacks when I would see that my ring wasn’t there. Then I would immediately reason with myself, “It’s getting sized. Everything is ok. Ryan still loves you. Your ring will be ready at 6:30.” Then five minutes later it would happen all over again. Obviously, I was anxious to get it back. At exactly 6:35pm, Ryan and I went by the jewelers to pick up my ring, only to learn that IT WASN’T READY. The cheery guy behind the counter suggested we “come back later…..” I felt my knees buckle and my heart stop. This couldn’t possibly be happening. I wanted to grab Cheery Guy by the throat and demand that he give me back my ring. Find a weapon, jump over the glass case and get it myself. I wanted Ryan to cause a scene until The Ring was back with us. Safe. Instead, Ryan said “thanks man” and proceeded to leave the store, happy as you please. Things just went downhill from there.
You see, I’ve worn an engagement ring before. And when that ring came up missing on my finger, it also meant that the relationship was over. The wedding was cancelled. My heart was broken. So for me, no ring equals no relationship. And yes I know - it’s just a ring. Just jewelry. It’s not Ryan’s actual commitment or love for me. If I’m not wearing it, it doesn’t mean that he’s leaving me, it just means it’s getting sized. I know all of this in my head. I know that’s it’s true. But my armpits are sweaty and I feel all jittery and I can’t concentrate until I get it back. Because to be without it feels like breaking up.
I cried and cried and cried when we got out to the car, which freaked Ryan out (of course). And I couldn’t explain to him why. I’m sure he must have thought I was insane for freaking out over such a trivial thing. But all of my heart alarms were going off at once, telling me to run. Protect myself. Flee. DO NOT GET HURT AGAIN.
And I know it’s just the ghosts from my past, coming back to haunt me. To unsettle me. Make me feel afraid.