It was a mistake.
You could have told me those words until you were blue in the face, and yet, I would not have listened to you. I was right. I knew I was right. And I was going to show you I how right I was. I was going to get married, darn it, and I didn’t care what you thought.
Fast-forward 8 years and throw in a dash of maturity and a pinch of humility. I wasn’t right. I didn’t know it back then, but as the years went on, my husband began peeling off the layers to reveal how emotionally cruel and manipulative he could be. I was a chronically depressed young woman who had some serious issues with men and men being controlling. We were like oil and water.
I stopped wearing my wedding ring. I didn’t stop wearing it because I was on the prowl for someone else. I stopped wearing it because I wanted to see how long it took him to notice I stopped wearing it.
It was a mistake to get married. Thankfully, no one threw “I told you so” in my face. We divorced amicably, but civility lasted until my ex found his new woman. It was quick. He always needed a woman to boss him around.
Although getting married at the age of twenty-one was not the smartest thing I ever did and doing so had psychological issues written all over it in big, black Sharpie, it was still my choice to do so. Just as it was my choice to end it.
There are many young women in other places, some still girls, who don’t get that choice. They are promised into marriage to strangers who are much older than them and who also mistreat these girls. Many of these girls are treated like property by their husbands.
Even though I made the mistake, it was my choice to make. A girl who becomes a child bride has no choice. When I realized years later that I was in an unhealthy situation I needed to get out of, I was fortunate enough to have the choice to leave. These girls do not have that choice.