In Eight Days, I will be a bride. This is the plan, assuming I have not melted down into a tiny, crazy, bridal nugget. Eight Days to go, and instead of savoring the moment, I find myself devolving into weepy, grouchy, clingy, sleepless, panicky, and all the other crazy ideas.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I never scribbled pictures of happily ever after moment in my head, nor did I grow into a woman who dreams of nothing but the big day. I have always loved throwing parties and bringing friends and family together; what could be more heartwarming than this particular Day?
Not only was I excited, I was prepared, so I thought, for wedding-related tribulations. I had heard the stories: Erratic Chef who keeps changing the menu, and go insanely offside. Friends behave egregiously. Familial relations escalate to level of Greek tragedy. Jittery me wonders, last-minute, whether am making the biggest mistake of my life.
Frankly, I’m not worried. My groom to be and I perfectly had good times amidst our crazy schedules, trusting in our Communal moments to get us through the Big Day. Both sets of in-laws have welcomed us into the Family. Most important, I know I have made the right choice. The occasional row aside, my groom to be and I are a loving pair, and I have no doubt he is the man for me.
Fueled by sugar and lack of sleep, I am going a little crazy. All of a sudden, I am having difficulty accepting the reality that even in this time of supposed intimacy and bliss, he and I are still alone, still separate creatures having separate experiences. Our ability to sit on the sofa, each reading our own book, is suddenly a source of distress rather than strength. I’m hung up on the fact that we’re not gazing into each other’s eyes at every moment; he, oblivious to my alarm, is in his home, deep into the preparation for our wedding. I panic at every disagreement; in my altered state of mind, every tension, no matter how subtle, becomes a litmus test, the ultimate I-do-or-die assessment of our relationship. All of a sudden, I need answers, guarantees. “What does marriage symbolize for you? What are your fears? Your hopes?” These are valid questions that we have discussed and will presumably revisit for the rest of our lives together. There’s just no need or way to answer them NOW. And yet I can’t stop asking. In response to my never-ending questioning, my groom to be predictably retracts into his shell. Detailed discussions of crazy work Schedules are followed by elucidation of the movies I have been watching. We are turning into a parody of male and female, and it’s infuriating…
In desperation, I send up a flare to several girlfriends, a quick message asking whether any of them had a nervous breakdown before their wedding? All of my friends remind me of what I already know in my heart. They assured me that the weeks before the wedding are “unbelievably stressful and not at all romantic or fun… It will be okay. He is the right guy and you will still be able to grow and change and still love each other after the wedding.” This is comforting. I had forgotten that we would continue to evolve after the wedding, rather than being frozen at this instant.
As I reread these wise words, my stomach starts to unclench. There’s no way around it: I’m making the biggest leap of faith I have ever made. This is an exhilarating and profoundly moving act, but “fun” it is not. Once the transition is made, I will have a lifetime to settle into couple hood, to absorb and enjoy the reality of the union with my partner. Until then, I simply have to accept that this choice I’m making has stirred up some inner demons.
All I need now is some Chocolate and cup of coffee…..