In bed last night, Erich turned to me and said point blank, “We’re getting married in 40 days.”
And my stomach flipped over. Both in excitement and dread.
Mostly in dread.
I’m getting really sick of the dread. I’m getting married. I should be happy. I should be all girly and giggly and bouncing.
And I’m not. Instead, I’m angry and crazy and absolutely bone-numblingly exhausted. I’ve gone beyond the point of exhaustion and frustration with everything where I could allow myself a good cry to let things out (been there, done that… like, a dozen times. It doesn’t help).
And I feel really, really guilty for it. Because it’s making me kick myself and question whether I’m being selfish or unappreciative that my parents are essentially paying for 90% of this shindig and becoming the bridezilla that I vowed I would. not. become.
And on top of everything, the stress and frustration has now been developing into somatic symptoms – I’ve had intestinal issues for over three weeks. Two days ago I developed one of my dreaded bronchitis coughs. And with the last two weeks having been slammed with work insanity, I’m now frantically trying to get hairstyle planning done five weeks out from this whole thing. Erich has thankfully taken on the task of contacting our massive RSVP no-show list, because honestly? I just can’t handle it anymore.
And I’m resenting every moment of the stress. Absolutely RESENTING it.
This is not good.
/completely cranky, exhausted bridezilla rant