Thinking through

There was a little gold ring with an opal shaped heart in the middle and diamond flecks on each side.  This was to be worn on my left hand until the day i married, and given to me in a ceremony of sorts, in which I sat in our upstairs living room and my father put this on my finger.  or maybe I grabbed it out of the box instead.

My parents (mom?) wanted me to have a purity ring.  It was something espoused by abstinence based religious organizations, and was intended to symbolize a girl's bond with her father, and more importantly, her virginity, until such time as she was married to a nice Christian man and shared her virginity with him.  I think there might have been a special service about this at my church, or maybe some youth event with lots of prepubescent girls screaming allegiance, but i can't remember.

But I can remember seeing the ring in the window of the jewelry store, and wanting it.  My  mom explaining the purity thing to me, and basically telling me I would get the ring if I would make this commitment... to my family...to my church... to myself... to my future husband.  I don't know what my conception of "sex" or "virginity" or "love" was then -- I think I knew that I didn't know.  Mom told me it was magical.  I don't honestly know if I ever intended to stay a virgin until my marital bed, but I know that I intended to own and wear that ring, because it was pretty.

So, on my birthday (was it 13?) I received the ring.  I think we sat around the living room, and maybe my dad put it on my hand, maybe we prayed.  I don't recall being particularly stricken by the moment, other than being excited for the ring, and yes, excited for this prize that I held for my future husband, unsure yet just what that was.

Fast-forward through college and beyond.  The first boyfriend was special, the rest were not.  I struggled with guilt at trying to be "promiscuous" and being restrained by this ring (which had long since ceased to be worn).  I did still wear it sometimes to stave off potential suitors, and I can remember being asked in my freshmen college English class -- by someone on the football team -- what it meant...stumbling over it because I didn't know any more.

My first year of law school.  I have been sexually active on and off for about 4 years, no more partners than the number of years.  I've never spoken to my mother about this, and am horrified by thought of a gynecological exam.  I would never have one - anyway - because that must mean I was sexually active.  But my best friend is diagnosed with cervical cancer.  No matter -- I could never have a Pap, because it would show up on my parents' insurance and they would know I was having sex.  No way.  I wait.  I wake in the night terrified I could have cancer, or some crazy disease, but I've never been tested because I am too afraid my parents would find out.

finally, I can't wait any more.  I am just too afraid.  I owe this friend my life, or at least my fertility.  I go to the gyno for the first time, I am so completely horrified.  I receive a call a few weeks later,and the worst thing I suspected is true -- I have precancerous cells growing in my cervix.  I feel guilty, I feel shame, i feel dirty.  I have no idea who did this to me.  The doctor and nurses tell me something like 75% of the population has this disease, this HPV.  It doesn't matter -- I need some sort of gyno surgery -- something I know can't be hidden from my parents because of the costs and insurance issues involved.  Terror ensures.

The terror of telling my mother (I can remember being drunk, it was night, I was in a car, and trying to say it nonchalantly) was nothing compared to the terror of actually going to the surgery, completely alone.  Tears were streaming down my face during the otherwise routine procedure.  I had asked ahead of time to be giving relaxing drugs, but when I arrived, they told me I wouldn't need it -- it was routine.  No matter, i was as tense as a tight rope and crying the whole time.  The nurses cooed to me in Spanish.  They didn't have these problems.  The room was, of course, white and sterile.  I can remember all of the pregnant women in the lobby, and being able to see the ocean from the window as i lay straddled.  how nice, Miami Beach.  Afterward, they gave me some percosets and told me to watch for bleeding.  The pain i felt inside was much worse.  The lights in my apartment seemed extra bright, my bed not soft enough, the blankets not warm enough.

Since this experience, innumerable friends and acquaintances have told me they also had a Leep, the scientific name for this procedure.  However, none have experienced the agony that I went through.  When I try to figure out why, I blame the ring.

I am ashamed...

That an entire year - 2014 - passed without a single entry by me!  Ahhhh-- fail!  A quick re-cap?  Started a new job in January (still love it), took the bar in February, went to wedding in Mexico on Valentine's day, March, just bearing through the winter.  In April I passed the bar, we went to Vegas and Milwaukee for Cub's Brewer's game for our anniversary, May, June and July passed in a blur of Chicago summer fun -- festivals, baseball games, shopping, eating and drinking outside at every chance, buying a grill, making new friends, fishing in Canada.  August and September the hubs was working out of state... that gave me the chance to make some girl friends and explore on my own -- which is fun but lonely and made me appreciate him ever so much more.  Settled into the job by then.  October we went to Sonoma and Napa and November hosted the in laws for Thanksgiving.  Christmas was with my family in Colorado at the hot springs and we rang in the new year in Chicago at a fun 20's themed party.

To say that is a summary is ridiculous, but that is what comes to mind.  It was a fantastic year; we love our new city, so much that we are looking for a house.  Which means we have to sell our condo.  sad, but we feel very fortunate to hopefully make decent money on it.  I am so happy tolike my job; I thought we would just move, I would find some crap job to pay the bills, and then we would move again in a few years to somewhere exotic.  Honestly, I think we are both exhausted of moving and really feel like we want to put down some roots and commit to something.  Crazy... is this called adulthood?

We just got back from an amazing Southeast Asia tour, which I kept a written diary on.

Currently, I am in Toronto with PD & A.  We have had a great crazy time.  We are so funny -- nothing cultural, just eating and drinking our way around the city -- I guess that is our way of experiencing culture.  It just works for us.  I would love to do more shopping, but hey I guess this keeps me out of trouble ;) We've ate at Black Hoof, had dim sum, walked to the waterfront, stopped in an Irish pub, want to the Distillery District and had poutine and beers, bought some cutsie artisan food and browsed the boutiques, tried to go to Panorama for overlook of the city but it was closed, so we went to People's for creative Asian/middle eastern fusion type goodies.  Now back at our airB N B -- tomorrow we go to Niagara Falls.  Went there when I was maybe 12? with my grandparents and mom.  I remember going up in one of the "needles" and having salmon that I thought was really good.  (Before I had the salmon my hubby caught and brought to me in the law library -- yum).  I can remember the cold of the mist, and the beautiful houses on the road from the border to the falls.  I remember being fascinated by the stories of people that went over the falls in barrels. 

Miss my honey.  He had a crazy health "event" in December which scared us all the way it snuck up and how horribly unprepared we are for something like that.  Grounded us a bit, if anything.  We have pulled the plug on the b.c. (not just because of that) and let's see how that goes ;)  So far, aunt flo hasn't made an appearance since I stopped the pill.  I hope everything is ok.