Hmm… over three months since my last post. I haven’t really been on my blogging game, have I? I’ve wanted so dearly to share with you our wedding. I’ve composed entire recap posts in my head – the good, the quirky, the unmatched love. But every time I spin the story in my mind’s eye, I find myself saddened by the handful of ways in which our wedding embodied anything but love. The painful memories burn in spite of the overwhelming adoration.
But I have to be real. I could gloss over our wedding with just the pictures, but then where would the soul be? Even the best wedding pictures can only aspire to capture the ecstatic and schizophrenic thoughts coursing through the minds of the bride and groom on the day of their wedding.
To wit: I cried on the morning of our wedding day. Not because I was overcome by the sight of my gown. Not because my groom sent me words of love. I cried on the morning of our wedding day because the previously misplaced decorative lighting had just been found. LIGHTING. I had wanted to create a perfect mood for our wedding dinner, but in its place I had fostered a sour mood over misplaced light bulbs. I cried because I was so immensely grateful that someone came to my rescue, that someone understood my need for… light bulbs.
I am very embarrassed that I let myself care so much about something so insignificant.
Or rather, I wish I could reconcile within myself a personal battle. I am a highly sensitive person, and throughout my life I have attempted to please everyone before myself. For our wedding, I wanted (just once) for the people around me to show me they were trying to understand me and my wishes and intents as I have attempted to do for them in the past.
This is difficult territory to tread. On one side of the battlefront, I wish I had had help and emotional support in certain instances from specific people. On the other, I feel ashamed for even thinking these ungrateful thoughts. We already had so much help in building our wedding day – it wouldn’t have come to fruition without the hard work of our friends and family.
And yet, there’s a strangely sour tone to my memory of our wedding. I could have handled things better, taken over more tasks myself (could I?), I could have been more magnanimous in the face of my social anxiety (maybe?), … I could have taken more deep breaths.
When it comes down to it, your wedding is the embodiment of your life and all the characters in it (even some you didn’t know were in it!). You can try to rebuild old bridges among family members, and you can try to fully embrace your growing family of friends. You must, however, take these few days in your life in stride. They are only a few steps (however large) in the journey that is your joined life with your husband. Own these days for all they are, the good and the bad, but don’t let them decide ad infinitum your life’s path – this you have the power to continuously sculpt, with your new partner by your side.
My point in all this is that I’ve been reticent to post about our wedding. I would be lying to myself, and I’d be lying to you if I said that everything went swimmingly. Everything didn’t go swimmingly, mostly because I was stretched immeasurably thin.
Despite this reticence, our wedding was irreplaceable – I deeply cherish my memories. The lows, however infrequent yet painful upon hindsight, cast the highs in euphoric relief.