Do-Over and maybe Change it up

I wrestled with this concept  of the do over. We are human right? We all make mistakes, yearn for that opportunity where we could take it all back. This week's Theme Thursday is forcing me to go into the carpet bag of memories and pull out that one do-over. Shit...its a hard one for so many reasons. Mainly because I enjoy my time and my life and even though perfection is far beyond me, there really is nothing I can change, although there is that one little item that consistently nags at me.

I was married. Some of you know this. It's not my greatest accomplishment, considering the word "was" inserted before the "married". I don't like to admit it in front of other people. I don't like to be called the divorce chick. (it's happened and it annoys the fuck out of me). Privately I joke that considering how young I was when I was first married, that I might be the next Elizabeth Taylor...real fucking funny, right? But no, it's actually a very embarrassing topic for me, and here I am displaying it for the internet to dissect.

I was a divorced woman at the age of 21. We didn't have children...we were just married.

I walked down the aisle of a catholic church, the pews adorned with white flowers, as I made it to a priest who had previously lied about a chapter in history to push his own agenda...that story is for another day. I said vows that I was too young to comprehend in front of family and friends that I had not seen in years and really shared no emotional attachment. It was a show. A face I put on to prove that I had made a decision, and was going to go through with it no matter what anyone said.

I watched my aunt cry as she read from the bible. I dried my father's tears in the limo outside. I wore a white dress, and carried a gaudy bouquet. I listened to my mother's prayer as we waited to eat our first dinner with the masses who had arrived for the three course dinner and free flowing wine.

I thought of the panic attack I had in the car only two weeks before, as I cried to my friend "I am making a mistake". His face of "oh shit" made me wonder if I could play along and make this all work. Foolish thoughts for a foolish girl.

I ended my wedding night with an argument with the groom after my  new father in law placed his hand on my sweat laden back,  saying, "ah, this is what it means to call someone a wetback".

I cried on my perfect honeymoon as I spent my days exploring the Vatican alone, while telephoning home to tell them all how great this all was.

And I want to take it all back, and not get married. I don't want him to have my father's tears, my aunts choked back cries. I don't want him to be the one that I shared a vow. And to be fair, I am sure he probably wishes he had not had all of this with me either. Because there is someone that is so much more deserving than he.

I don't want it to exist. But I can not take it back. I want to! I want to pretend it didn't happen, but unfortunately it did...

But we get a do over right? So when it happens this next time with the love of my life, it won't be this huge mess of strangers all piled in a hot church. There won't be white gaudiness and taffeta. I won't be called a wetback at my own fucking wedding. But I will love every word that I utter to my babe. I will be excited to share my planning with my sisters, my parents, my brother, and aunts. I will gush to my girlfriends, and maybe his guy friends. And then, at that very moment, I will no longer wish for any more do-overs in my life.