I wore my wedding band for most of the 11 months since you told me you were done with the shell of a marriage that was the world to me.  Taking it off on Valentine's Day was no longer about making you hurt, but allowing myself to heal.  It came off of my finger and settled in my jewelry box sometime after I bought myself flowers. I wore that ring through nearly half of my life.  I wore it through the life that was ushered into our family and as we mourned the loss of those that left us.  It was part of the dishes and laundry and gardening barefoot as I ripped weeds out in frustration and tears while you left me to sob under the sun - not knowing and not caring. I took off your ring and began gnawing at my nails and the skin around my fingers.  My mouth worried about the loss of its protection. I was once someone's wife.  I was once someone's love.  Now rejected and abandoned, I am my own person and that person scares me.