Up until about three months ago, we weren’t feeling stressed about the wedding at all. Things were going smoothly, we were a picture of organisation (spreadsheets, lists, and spreadsheets of all our lists…), and it just wasn’t a big deal.
But then, as it started getting closer to the actual day – we became stressed. And now, with less than two weeks to go, I’m practically a walking meltdown in progress.
See, it doesn’t matter how organised you are. In fact, being more organised can make things worse, because you’re acutely aware at all times of the sheer volume of things that you need to to. All the little details that need to be arranged, purchased, decorated, sorted, transported; the people who need to be contacted and asked to help out; the contact numbers and exact times to put in the run sheet for the photographers.
Being organised does not change the amount of stuff I have to do. That’s the stressful part.
Hobbies have fallen into a neglected heap in the corner of my brain as I feel the constant pressure of “not enough time, I have so much on my ‘wedding to do’ list to write a blog post.” Coming home from work each evening means sitting down and working out what needs to be done – and then promptly feeling too stressed about it to finish, and binge-watching Orange is the New Black episodes instead. I make the effort to go to the gym several nights each week, but instead of slimming down I’ve put on four kilos, probably from all the comfort foods I’ve been reaching for.
Weekends that used to be spent blissfully hanging out with my boyfriend are now spent pushing a trolley with my fiance at The Reject Shop buying cheap props for the reception, or chasing RSVPs, or briefly freaking out because someone else went ahead and bought ribbons already and I’d just spent $20 on them at Lincraft, leaving us with a serious ribbon surplus. We both have decision fatigue and could not care less if our cake was rectangular or circular. I am sick of Pinterest and magazines full of ideas, because they make my own ideas feel second-rate: will I regret my choice of shoes five years on, or the fact that the lolly bags for our candy buffet aren’t the right shade of blue? All the other parties I’ve thrown during my life were failures, so this one, the most important party of all, has to be done right.
As someone young and very much in love, it used to be my fiance who was on my mind all the time. But now, The Big Day pervades my every waking thought. It’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up, what I dwell on during the day, and what I return to think about in earnest come night time.
Of course, this all may sound a little ungracious. I am excited to be marrying my best friend. I can’t wait to be able to start my new life with him by my side, husband and wife, together.
But damn, I can’t wait for the wedding to be over and done with.
And preparing for this new life comes with its own stresses. I’ve never shared my bedroom with anyone in my life. I simply cannot sleep with someone else in the room – let alone in the same bed. How long will it take me to adjust to having someone right next to me at night, sharing my space? How many desperate sleepless nights will I have to get through before I stop jerking awake at every soft rustle of the bed sheets?
How long will it be before I adjust to having less independence, less utter freedom to do what I want with my own time and money? We’ll learn to compromise, sure, but will there ever be a flash of resentment on my part that now everything must be shared? As an only child, having complete privacy and independence is all I’ve ever really known. I find comfort in familiarity and will stubbornly resist change until the very last possible second.
I know that we will both adjust to our new life, and that even though it will be hard, we will work it out, and it will be worth it. The changes are good. But I’m not looking forward to that process of adjustment, that bumpy in-between. And I am well and truly over the wedding.