I don't have many triggers anymore. They are so infrequent that sometimes I forget what it feels like. And then I remember.
Yesterday's phone call from my mom started off innocently enough. She had a quick question to ask. Could she borrow the leftover fabric from my wedding dress for a display at church?
Before I could even respond, the tears took my breath. So unexpectedly. My mom immediately backtracked, apologizing for asking about the material. I reassured her that she didn't hurt me in any way by asking for the material.
It's just that the mere mention of the fabric from my wedding dress started a chain reaction of negative feelings.
My mom is an amazing seamstress. When I got engaged, she offered to make a custom one-of-a-kind dress. It was stunning, and it was the perfect dress for me. Simple, modest, with a vintage feel. My dream dress. It took many trips for her to complete it (we didn't live near each other), and we spent so much time together. When she finished the dress, there was quite a bit of extra fabric left over. I decided to have her store it in her basement so that I could use it for a baptismal gown some day.
So when my mom mentioned the fabric yesterday, my emotional reaction wasn't just about the fabric. It was about losses. The dress that was beautifully designed with love that sits in my parents' basement because it's too hard for me to have in my house. The wedding photos that were either destroyed or tucked away because I feel sick when I see them. The fabric, that was supposed to be sewn into a baptismal gown for a little baby girl some day. Fabric that now somehow feels tainted.
Everything surrounding our marriage day is now clouded with the knowledge that my husband was an addict the day he married me. He lied to my family, friends, priest, and me. He had already had sex with other people while we were engaged. While my mom and I excitedly worked on that dress and talked about my bright and happy future with my soon-to-be husband.
I am happy in my life now. But I still grieve the losses.
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