The anniversary that won't happen

It's 6 days until what would have been my 25 year wedding anniversary. No more tears that the marriage is over but there are residual effects that linger on. This date is looming over me in many painful ways. I find there is more shaming to those that end long marriages, as the expectation is that if you've done it this long then why quit? I hate the word quit when it comes to a marriage. I gave my all and there was nothing left to do for either of us. I'm no longer justifying my decision or allowing opinions on my life choices. Yet this date feels mocking and cruel. 

I've been thinking of my wedding day and feeling somber. I hated my wedding. Yes, I know most brides feeling like a princess (side note: could we please get rid of this fucking word?!) and consider it the best day of their life. I felt like I did most everything myself, or even when helped the weight of it was on me. We didn't have much money so it was ticky tacky all the way. A friend did our small amount of flowers, kind friends made some fruit bowls for us, I bought lunch meat on sale and froze it...I called it the picnic wedding. Won an aisle runner at a wedding fair. Reception was at a bar we took over.  My father and step mother were late for pictures and my youngest brother called him saying, "Don't do this to her!!!" Nothing felt special. It was a downpour (no, Alanis, it wasn't ironic at all). 

What I hated the most about that day was my wedding dress. Again, we didn't have money, didn't have help and I was terrified of going into debt. I brought my mother and bridesmaids to a wedding store to help me pick out a dress. The bridesmaids were more concerned with their dresses and my mother seemed distracted. I wouldn't allow myself to even look at the many beautiful gowns and marched straight to a clearance rack. I found a $99 dress, decided it fit "good enough", paid and walked out. On the day of the wedding I looked at myself and wasn't impressed. The photographer staged a picture where my fiance kept his eyes closed and he captured the moment he saw me. His expression didn't look like "here's my beautiful bride" but more "I'd better pretend". Never told me I was beautiful so that solidified my feelings. 

I hate going to weddings. I fully own that all I see is all the things I'll never have. I seethe in bitter envy while trying to smile sweetly. I say frequently that I'll never marry again but admittedly a lot of that is really avoidance of pain and disappointment. 

I recently remembered that my wedding dress has been in the trunk of my car for 3 years. I had plans to do something...burn it, drown it, rip it to shreds, but I've done nothing. I put it on one last time to see how I felt about it now. The style looks like something a woman would wear on her 3rd marriage at the court house...certainly not a fairy tale. I'm trying to console myself that I made the best choices I could with what little I had both financially and emotionally. But I still hate it.

6 days....