I visited my local Starbucks the other day to enjoy some coffee and free Wi-Fi. I was engaged in relatively simple research, so I let my ears wander to the conversations around me. One in particular caught my attention, as it pertained to my current status as a bride-to-be. There was a large group at the table across from me — a young engaged couple, parents, wedding planners (yes, plural) and a priest. The plans they were making were as detailed and complex as those made for a presidential inauguration.
We hear so much about wedding planning. There are entire industries built around helping the couple carry out their “perfect day.” It’s easy to get carried away in the romance and the idea that a single ceremony represents the entirety of a relationship. It’s easy to confuse the ability to control the details of a day with the potential for controlling an entire life. It may be easy, but like the eyes of the audience at a magic show, it is attention focused in the wrong direction. Wedding days should be special; it is a time to celebrate your bond and make a public declaration of your relationship. However, don’t be so busy planning your wedding that you neglect to plan your marriage. Here are a few things to keep in mind for your Big Day, and the days (and years) after you say “I do.”
I am a grown-ass woman. I have degrees. I’ve won awards. I can go on national television. I can do home repair. I’m generally pretty confident in myself and my appearance. So why is it that some 22-year-old working in a formal shop can make me feel about as insecure as a teenager in front of her first crush?
Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself.
The wedding is slated for October. It will be a very simple affair – a private outdoor ceremony in the Smoky Mountains followed by a dinner celebration at our favorite restaurant back in Atlanta. No pomp. No circumstance. No stress.
Well, other than the dress.
I’m not really particular about the “look” of the wedding, but it is important to Brock. Even though I still have several months, I wanted to try to find a dress today. Partly because I had a day off work but mostly to leave myself plenty of time in case it became more difficult than expected. I asked a friend to accompany me and to act as a guard against those scary 22-year-old dress sellers.
Not the shoes I’m wearing but they’re good for a laugh:)
For my first wedding, I ventured into a Dillard’s alone and found a prom dress for $98. It had a satin bodice with some contoured seams and a long chiffon skirt. It was simple, elegant and cheap. It was perfect.
I wanted something similar again. It’s difficult with second weddings. I chose a ring, a dress and a wedding location the first time around that fit me. I don’t want to repeat that but those same aesthetics still appeal. My idea was to go to the mall and scour the racks of formal (non-wedding) dresses and hope for a similar find.
My friend suggested that a stand alone store that specialized in wedding attire first. She had been in there previously and remembered that they had some budget-friendly items.
I felt like I was walking in to some five-star hotel designed by Disney. There were glitter and rhinestones everywhere. The place was full of employees, dressed head to toe in black, scurrying around to attend to their charges. There were brides everywhere, most accompanied by their moms, choosing dresses and accessories. Everything was over the top and designed to make women feel like princesses. Along with the princess price tag. After talking with the consultant (I’m assuming that’s the proper term), we learned that their dresses started at $2,000.
Started. At. $2,000.
Who buys these things? After saying our “thank you’s,” we promptly left and got into my car (current value – not much more than $2,000).
After touring a few department stores at the mall, we knew we were on the right track. Our last stop? Dillard’s. And they came through again. Even in that more relaxed environment, I was still tense. Sometimes, I don’t understand myself. I’m completely fine trying on bikinis. No sweat. A formal dress? Yeah, that brings out all of the body insecurities. I feel silly in super feminine things with my athletic build and casual nature. It can be frustrating to have arms and shoulders that burst seams and to have trouble fitting my lats into a dress. Would it be out of place to get married in a bathing suit in the mountains in October? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
To complicate matters, I’m weird about spending money. Especially on myself. I feel guilty. Somehow I don’t feel like I’m worthy of spending money on. It’s frugality mixed with a dash of neurosis. I wish I could find a way to keep my thrifty ways but nix the guilt.
I only ended up trying on one dress. It’s formal but not bridal, which apparently is good for a 90% discount, as it was only $200. It’s simple and elegant and relatively cheap. But it’s different than before. It fits my frame, showing off my muscle in a flattering way and the sleeveless style gives my shoulders endless room to move. I can borrow jewelry from my friend and I should be able to find shoes once the weather warms up. Mission accomplished.
So now the dress is hanging in the closet waiting for its fall debut and my blood pressure is slowly returning to normal. I should be okay now as long as those 22-year-old dress consultants stay away:)
Today would have been my thirteenth wedding anniversary. Thirteen years ago today, I married my high school sweetheart on an empty beach in Florida. The photos from that day capture the love we had. The youth. The innocence. The promise.
What would have been our tenth anniversary was the hardest. He has left five months prior and we were still legally married. I used a psychiatrist’s appointment as an excuse for a sick day off work (the last day before winter break and a planned trip to San Antonio). After the morning appointment, I took a Xanax (one of three I took during the whole experience) and spent the day in my bed in my friend’s guest room. I distinctly remember not wanting to be alone and feeling reassured that her husband and then her father were going to be there throughout the day. I couldn’t muster up the energy to be social. I don’t think I ever made it down stairs, but I remember listening to the sounds coming in my door. I spent the day in a fugue state – not awake and not asleep. I tried to read, but couldn’t. I tried to sleep, but that eluded me too. I cried. A lot. I wrote. I cried some more. I could not face that anniversary that wasn’t.
By the would-have-been eleventh anniversary, I was in a much better place. I was situated in my own apartment and in the early stages of a new relationship. It was still a very difficult day. A sad day. I went to work. I functioned. But I also broke down and cried a few times. I was afraid to be alone that evening and spent the night at Brock’s. I still mourned what had been lost, but I also saw hope for the future.
Last year, on would be anniversary number twelve, I felt okay. I didn’t feel like I was a damn holding back a wall of sadness that was waiting to crush me. I felt okay. But I didn’t trust it. I remember tiptoeing through the day, as if I might release the pain if I tread too hard. The pain didn’t come. I spent a normal (as normal as a middle school can be) day at work and spent a quiet evening on the couch with Brock.
And today? On lucky number thirteen? I’m alone at the moment and I okay. No, I’m more than okay. I’ve been aware of the date but it hasn’t hurt. I left a note for Brock this morning as this same date is a difficult anniversary for him for different reasons) and I received an image with the following quote from him on my Facebook:
Good relationships don’t just happen. They take time, patience, and people who truly want to be together.
That definitely helps keep any demons at bay:) I came home to Brock and his friend, who just had knee surgery, on the couch laughing and playing Call of Duty. It was a scene that made me smile – two friends helping each other and laughing while doing it. By the time I got back from the gym, Brock was at ju jitsu, where he will be until after I’m asleep (I’m pitiful in the evening). I’m alone on December 18, but I’m not alone. I’ve let people into my heart and they are with me even now. Oh, and Tiger and Maddy too:) It’s hard to feel alone when you have a 90 lb pit bull on your lap!
Anniversaries that aren’t are strange things. They are meaningless and yet we mark them. It’s a time when we used to reflect upon the past years of the relationship. Now that the relationship is over, we find ourselves playing a game of “what if?,” wondering what this day might have looked like otherwise. These anniversaries are so piercing at first, the loss overwhelming and threatening to undo a year’s worth of work. But they don’t have to stay that way. We can let them soften, let them become mere curiosities on the calendar. I see it like a number line. I used to count the positive numbers away from my wedding day. Now, I am on the other side of zero, counting away from my divorce date. I can see today as would-have-been thirteen or I can celebrate it as it-is-three. I bet you can guess which view I choose:)
So, I am wishing myself a happy anniversary. And I am celebrating three years of loving and laughing and learning. That’s an anniversary I can celebrate every year!
I joined Pinterest a few months ago to see what all of the fuss was about and to share my quotes and book information. I spent a few hours over the next week exploring various topic streams and signing up to follow boards that I found interesting (fitness, vegetarian, inspirational quotes). I love Pinterest for inspiration and ideas (those pumpkin recipes floating around last month made me want to take a week off work to spend in the kitchen!). Despite the positive impact that pinning can have as a virtual muse and design board, I also see a dark side casting shadows on the perfect pictures.
Many pins have the effect of ramping up expectations, often to levels that are impossible without a trust fund, a gaggle of helpers, or rib-removal surgery. It’s so easy to get caught up in the beautiful pictures, one after another, and to let your mind fantasize. The images cement our daydreams, providing a goal that may be inspirational or may be utterly unattainable. There is a fine line between reading a quote layered over a fitness model and feeling encouraged to work out and feeling frustrated that no number of hours in the gym will be able to give you that physique.
English: Fitness Model posing with dumbell. Photo by Glenn Francis of http://www.PacificProDigital.com (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Nowhere does this setting of expectations get more out of hand than on the wedding boards. These are some of the most popular pins, making the rounds among women of all age: married, single and in-between. There are photos of elaborate dresses with price tags to match. Pictures of cakes with carefully crafted fondant. Images of budget-friendly decoration ideas. But they all have one thing in common. They’re perfect.
I get it. It’s much easier to focus on a single day than the parade of days that create a marriage. We can try to convince ourselves that a picture perfect wedding will somehow trickle down into the years of the marriage. Sadly, the proper shade of aubergine (what color is that, anyway!?!) for the bridesmaid’s dresses will not mitigate that recurring argument about the dishes. I wonder what a real life marriage board would look like? Probably not so perfect 🙂
Wedding Dress For Happy Couple in Love (Photo credit: epSos.de)
I fear that too much time spent perusing perfect pictures will move a person away from happiness as the gap between their expectations and reality grows ever wider. Be a discerning consumer of media of all types. Filter what you are exposed to and limit yourself to images that inspire you and lift you up. Watch yourself and be prepared to go on a media diet if you find that you are becoming too engrossed in the pursuit of perfection. And for goodness sake, please get off the wedding boards:)
Pin it then live it. Don’t let your dreams only exist in the digital world.
Defenders of Marriage (Photo credit: Mike Licht, NotionsCapital.com)
Like most people, I never though much about bigamy. If pressed on the issue, I would have mentioned Showtime’sBig Love, where one man has several wives and they operate as a single family. When bigamy entered into my life, it was so absurd, so out there, that the only way that I could respond was with humor. Because bigamy is not normally discussed in polite company, I had some issues arise that I wasn’t sure how to handle gracefully.
There was an 8 month period that the two of us were married to my ex. During this time, I referred to her as, “my husband’s wife.” This was wordy and awkward, and caused eyebrows to furrow in confusion. I needed a more direct and concise way to refer to her. I propose (no, not THAT kind of propose!) that we create the term, “wife-in-law” or “husband-in-law” to describe a spouse’s new spouse. Which I guess now makes her my ex-wife-in-law. And, if they are divorced, my ex-ex-wife-in-law. Damn. Wordy again.
Is it strange that I felt a bit slighted that I was not invited to their wedding? My understanding is that it is rude to invite one partner in a marriage and not the other to a co-ed event. It would have been even funnier if the invitation was addressed in the formal manner: Mr. and Mrs. Ex-Husband’s Name. It could get a bit confusing.
As it was, I didn’t find out about the wedding until a few days after it occurred. Then, I was left with the dilemma of a wedding gift. Is one obligated to purchase a gift for a spouse’s wedding? Or, did the fact that my paycheck purchase their wedding rings count as a gift? Maybe a congratulations card? Or, in this case, a condolence card to her?
You see, it all gets so confusing.
In all seriousness, I was glad to discover that he solidified the relationship with a felony. Unlike many caught in the crazy world of divorce, where one partner lies and manipulates the system to try to harm the other, creating an endless he-said, she-said, I had proof that my husband lied. I had irrefutable evidence of infidelity. I had a mugshot and a felony charge to support my case. I am thankful for all of that, but I am sorry that my ex-wife-in-law became another of his victims. I hope that she, too, has learned lessons from her marriage.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 