My wedding is in 4 weeks. I should be feeling excited. I should be tying all of the details together. I should be giddy. Or at least stressing out over logistical issues. But no. I feel none of those things. It's just me and my cold feet. Again.
Last week I had been reading through my bloggy friends' writing and noticed how in love they all seemed to be. They were very "I'm marrying my best friend" and all. Which is perfectly perfect. But I don't consider Brian my best friend, although he sometimes feels like the other half of my brain. And we did not have a magical, easy first year of dating. There was no steamy romance. There was no puppy love or endearing nervousness. At the time it was just us and our baggage - frustrated, confused, and ambivalent. (Well, that was me, anyway.)
So when one blogger commented on A Practical Wedding last week about how, in times of marital trouble, you should recall the fond memories of the early part of your love, I panicked. Because for me, there were very few fond memories. And when another blogger commented that you can't rekindle something that was never there in the first place, I nearly crapped my pants. Because what if the love that Brian and I have was never strong to begin with, even after these 5 years of being together? And oh my gosh, we're getting married in 4 weeks -- ahhh!!! (Cue panic attack.)
And then I had a few saving thoughts:
- Our love story is not like anyone else's. It's doesn't follow the typical Hollywood storyline arc of exciting beginning, steady rise, major challenge, romantic apology, and happily ever after. That's just not us. BUT. Maybe there's not just one way to tell a good story.
- Maybe contentment makes me nervous. I'm afraid to be happy and trusting and optimistic because I was all of those things in my last relationship, and quite frankly, it put me through hell. That relationship was like a thriving village that was burned to ashes. So I guess it's not happiness that makes me nervous - it's the end of happiness that scares me. And after starting a blog about being brave, there's no way I'll let myself jump ship out of fear. Because if I choose retreat instead of resilience, all my pain will have been in vain. Insane. And lame. (See -- I'm so emotional I've started a spontaneous bout of freestyle rap.)
- I was reminded by my fiance that whenever I have a great idea or sincere passion, my anxiety and fear talk me out of it. So I have to wonder - how much of my doubt is just me, and how much of it is appropriate for my relationship with Brian? My Mom says I was born a nervous baby. And maybe I still am.
- The onset of cold feet is always when I am alone with my brain, my fear, my imagination, and my unanswerable questions. When I am with Brian I never feel as if something is missing, nor do I experience the sinking feeling that I'm making a huge mistake. It's time alone with my paranoia (too much time to think, says this brilliant blogger) that is the likely culprit here.
- Screw having my husband be my one and only best friend! You know what? I have best friends. But now I want and need a co-pilot. I want someone to share my journey with. I need a partner who can be trusted and relied on- someone who keeps his word. It's got to be someone who I like a whole bunch; someone who "gets me" and makes me laugh. I need someone who will offer to fly the plane when I need to get up for a pee break. Not a best friend, not a Prince Charming. A co-pilot. Yeah, I think like that.
So. I'm pretty happy with the bullet points above. And maybe this post on cold feet is the end to an epic trilogy. OR maybe I'll pull a Star Wars and simply come back several years from now with 3 more episodes. Who knows? But all I can say is that wedding is still on. And I'm growing my balls ever so carefully and slowly, all in the name of this crazy little thing called Love. Because as I learned from one blogger a few weeks back, if we walk in the direction of our fears who knows what kind of incredible life we could live.