If my mind were a computer (and believe me, it’s not), the wedding would be a program running in the background at all times -- with hundreds of popup messages per day. I am able to get everything else done, but it’s almost as if all of those other responsibilities revolve around the center of the universe. Which is The Wedding.
What did I think about before I was contemplating centerpieces over every lunch break? What did I do with my time when I wasn’t making invitations and programs and bridesmaid gifts and writing welcome letters and toasts and vows and day-of timelines?
I. Completely. Forget.
I used to think of myself as a person. But the wedding industrial complex has nearly redefined my identity to: BRIDE. Nearly, but not quite entirely. Which is how I’m able, through my remaining scrap of self-awareness, to see a glimmer of the Jules I was before the wedding. The person I still am, under layers and layers of tulle.
And if I’m overwhelmed with this Event-with-a-capital-E, imagine how it’s affecting the Mister. Here’s an excerpt from a conversation I had with Mama last week:
Mama: “The wedding doesn’t stress me out. Now Mr. Mama’s retirement – THAT stresses me out.”This is why they say to have a short engagement. Eighteen months is waaaay too long for my crafty mind to contemplate all of the possible wedding details I can arrange to perfection. Enough already!
Jules: “You live with Mr. Mama’s retirement.
You don’t live with the wedding. The Mister does.”
Mama: “And he still wants to marry you?! He must really love you.”
So we’ve planned a wedding-free day this Saturday. We won’t be checking the mailbox for RSVPs; we won’t be making darling little wedding crafts; we won’t practice our first dance or edit our song list or review the budget. It’s not really about reconnecting with each other; we’ve remained very close through all this creative chaos. It’s really about reconnecting with ourselves.
"Hello, self. It's me, Jules."