I Sold the Diamond Ring

Thoughts on emotional decluttering & shedding old identities

Welcome to another edition of Love, Peace, and Tacos, a weekly newsletter where I share what I’m feeling, loving, and eating.

---

The first time my ex-partner, Emmett told me he loved me, he gave me a small diamond ring on a white gold band.

While this behavior would send me running for the hills now as a 40-something (we’d only been dating for a month!), it seemed over-the-top romantic in my early 20s. We were young, in love, and weren’t afraid to show it.

Emmett loved me at a time when I hadn’t quite figured out how to love myself. I wore that ring for the six years we were together. Although it wasn’t an engagement ring, I still liked how the ring made me feel — chosen, worthy, loved. But as time wore on and the questions about when/if we were getting married increased with frequency, it also became a painful reminder of everything I knew Emmett wanted and I didn’t — to be married, to be a parent, to be straight.

In 2011, I ended things with Emmett and moved across the country. The ring has been in storage ever since.

Although I was the one to pull the plug, that breakup gutted me. I loved Emmett like family and I mourned his absence like a death. Like the red shoes I wrote about last year, I kept the ring as a reminder that someone had once loved me in this pure and unwavering way. What I couldn’t admit for the longest time was the ring also reminded me of a painful breakup and an imaginary future I didn’t want.

It was emotional and physical hoarding at its finest!

In December, I finally decided to sell the ring. I tried it on one last time and could barely get it on my finger. Comically small, the ring looked like it had belonged to a completely different person — and in a way, it had.

The beauty of decluttering is that it moves like a snowball. After selling the ring, I sold my Tiffany Eiffel Tower charm necklace. I’ve only worn it a couple of times because the feet of the tower painfully dig into my skin and make hugging akin to stabbing myself with a thumbtack (also, I don’t love Paris as a city? 🤷🏻‍♀️). Next, I gave my sister a ruby ring gifted to me by my high school boyfriend — another artifact haunting my jewelry box.

Lately, I’ve felt the need to both shed old versions of myself and lean into the things/interests I’ve loved for as long as I can remember (leopard print, Kermit the Frog, motorcycle jackets, travel). Maybe this has to do with being in my 40s, the pandemic, losing a parent, or all of the above, but I don’t feel like the person I was a decade ago — and thank goodness, in many ways, she was kind of a mess.

(To give you a snapshot: I dated finance bros, was prone to cocaine benders, and had an impressive collection of colored skinny jeans. Say less!)

I wanted something to commemorate this new era that I’m in. Since I’m not a tattoo person, I used the money from selling the jewelry to buy this necklace from the Return to Tiffany x Beyonce collection. The inscription is fitting.

(Shoutout to my friend Bill in Los Angeles who helped me secure the goods since this line isn’t available in Canada!)

As I’ve mentioned, the Renaissance album and tour are near and dear to my heart (I haven’t stopped talking about it for the past 2 years!) so it just feels right that I own a piece of jewelry that features Reneigh the horse:

I went through a difficult breakup this summer/fall, so I also bought myself this bracelet to remind myself that I can always put my heart back together.

So, what does my personal Renaissance look like? I’ve been thinking about a lot over the past few days.

In true Virgo fashion I’ve made a list:

(FWIW, “No More Lazy Lovers” sounds like it would be a bop.)

I look forward to taking you along for the ride!

Are you going through a shift? I’d love to hear what’s on your personal ‘renaissance’ list. Sound off in the comments or hit reply!