I lost my engagement ring a short while back. I rarely take my rings off, but my hands were dry and sore, so I took my wedding and engagement rings off to put some hand cream on. I put them in my pocket temporarily and forgot about them. I only realised a few hours later when I took my dress off and only my wedding ring fell out. There was no sign of my engagement ring. I retraced my steps, checked every possible place it could be, and then checked again, just in case I’d missed something the first ten times. The more I searched, the more my mind became anxious and frustrated at myself—how stupid I was to forget, why hadn’t I remembered, what if it was gone forever? The more desperately I tried to find it, the sadder and more despondent I felt. Every time I rechecked a place my hope built only to feel disappointed again.
I couldn’t bear the idea of giving up. The ring was more than just a piece of jewellery; it was a symbol of love, of commitment, of a moment in time when my husband and I decided to get married. It was so important to me.
During my search I had so many kind offers of help. A man I had not known previously, and his partner spent a Sunday afternoon with his metal detector searching for my ring in the area I thought I was most likely to have lost it. Many others offered their help, concern and kindness. In a world where we see many problems, moments like these remind me that compassion and generosity still exist in abundance.
As time passed by, I saw that my distress wasn’t just about the ring itself—it was about what it represented. And then, I began to realise something perhaps even more important: I hadn’t lost my love for my husband. I hadn’t lost our commitment to each other. Those things weren’t tied to a piece of jewellery; they lived in the choices we make every day, in the way we care for each other, in the life we are fortunate to share together.
It was only when I was able to come to a place of acceptance—when I truly let go of the belief that I needed to find the ring in order to be okay—that I found some peace and calm again. Of course, I still wish my ring would turn up, but I no longer feel trapped in the relentless cycle of searching and self-recrimination.
Even without finding my ring, I have now come to accept that whether I do or I don’t find it, life will continue and we will be ok. Instead, I will replace it, knowing that while the ring itself may be new, what it represents has never changed.
I’m grateful for what the experience taught me (though of course I would still rather it hadn’t happened!). It was a reminder that clinging tightly to something—whether it’s a thought, an object, or an outcome—can make us feel more lost, not less. Sometimes, the peace we’re searching for comes not from holding on, but from loosening our grip.
FAQs
How do you move towards acceptance when something feels so important?
Acceptance isn’t about liking or wanting the situation to happen—it’s about acknowledging things as they are. Having lost my ring, I allowed myself to feel the emotions of loss, sadness, and frustration. But over time, I recognised that clinging to the idea that I must find the ring was only making me suffer more. Shifting my focus to what the ring truly represented helped me find calm again.
Is acceptance the same as giving up?
No, absolutely not. Acceptance is very different from giving up. Giving up carries a sense of hopelessness, while acceptance is about making space for reality and choosing how to move forward with kindness toward yourself. I still searched, I still hoped, I still do—but I also recognised that my wellbeing wasn’t dependent on the outcome.
How can I practice acceptance in my own life?
You can start by noticing when you’re resisting something—when your mind is fighting against reality. Then, gently remind yourself that struggling against something you can’t change only creates suffering. Instead, try to shift your focus to what you can control—your response, your perspective, and your next steps.
What if I never fully feel okay with what happened?
That’s completely understandable. Some losses will always carry a sense of sadness. Acceptance doesn’t mean you erase those feelings—it means you allow them to be there without them controlling you. Over time, those feelings tend to soften, and you find new ways to move forward, even with the feelings present.
Does acceptance mean I won’t feel sad or disappointed anymore?
Not at all. Acceptance allows space for all emotions, including sadness. It doesn’t get rid of difficult feelings, but it helps us hold them with more ease, rather than being overwhelmed by them. I still feel sad that my ring is gone, but I no longer feel consumed by that sadness.
What helped you let go of the self-criticism and guilt?
Self-compassion was key. Instead of staying stuck in thoughts of “I should have been more careful,” I reminded myself that I’m human, and mistakes happen. It also helped to shift my focus from blame to gratitude—for what ring represents and the kindness of strangers who helped me search.
What did this experience teach you about what really matters?
It reinforced that symbols are meaningful, but they aren’t the essence of what they represent. Love, commitment, and connection aren’t held in objects; they live in our actions, our choices, and the way we show up for one another every day.
Sarah Parker, MBACP (Accredited) is a psychotherapist based in West Yorkshire, with a special interest in eating disorders, disordered eating, and neurodivergence. Originally trained in relational counselling, she later qualified in Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), Compassion-Focused Therapy (CFT), and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT).
Sarah’s experience spans a range of settings, including working with survivors of rape and sexual abuse, as well as many years supporting individuals and groups in NHS mental health teams and a specialist eating disorder service. She is also an experienced trainer and educator, delivering workshops on working safely and effectively with people with eating disorders. In addition to her training work, she has been a guest on several podcasts and previously co-hosted her own.
Now in private practice, Sarah’s approach is shaped by her professional expertise and lived experience of an eating disorder. She is passionate about fostering a hopeful, compassionate, and collaborative space where clients can move toward meaningful change.
