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emmy [AT] curious-notions {dot} net
August 2022
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co-opting my life

The wedding is taking over my life.

So it’s not surprising that I have nothing to talk about on here except this wedding.

Basically, I hate this wedding. I’ll just admit it. I hate it. I hate that I have to plan this thing. I hate that it’s going to make Bear and I uncomfortable. I hate that it feels so hypocritical. I hate that it’s expensive. (Seriously, not that expensive, it’s going to be very nice and it’s still within our budget, but… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I hate that it is an expense at all… I think. I don’t know.)

I hate that this feels like it isn’t indicative of Bear and I. Except it is. Weirdly.

I hate that I hate my dress. Except it’s a pretty dress. Just. I don’t know. I think that dress is all tied up with my current mommy/daddy issues. Why the dress, of all things, is getting punished I don’t understand. At least it’s not in my home anymore, so I can’t dream of ruining it.

I think what I hate the most is how the marriage feels so good and right and exciting and scary and yet the wedding feels like it pinches. And that dichotomy pisses me off. Because either we should have been casual or we should have done it right. Except we are trying to do it right and all the trying is what made it wrong. Which makes no sense, but that’s exactly what it feels like.

There have been a few shining lights. Bear and I are still very tight and have made some nice memories in the process. The core of the wedding, Bear’s and my relationship, is good. Great in fact. But the meat of it, the families coming together to celebrate, the celebration, the let’s-have-a-good-time-together, feels wrong.

I keep thinking, the wedding should be amazing. I’m going to have all the people closest to my heart in one place. The idea of that, just having them all there, is my idea of heaven on earth. I am going to be so incredibly happy as long as everyone else is. And then I think about the fact that these people aren’t going to be happy to all be in one place together with all my other favorite people and all the happiness just goes right back out.

Because it’s not about the flowers or the food or the dress or the heat or the cake. I just keep trying to fix those things in the hopes that it’ll make the people happy to be there. And I know that no matter what, all the food, cake, and air conditioning in the world isn’t enough to make the people get along.

How sad is it that the obvious conclusion to this pity party is that I’m not either?