There are seven months to go before I walk down the aisle, yet I am a snowball rolling down the wedding ski slope at breakneck speed. Assorted flotsam I’ve acquired are protruding from my frosty exterior – a veil here, an officiant there, spreadsheets flying in the wind. The pokey doo-dads dig into my ribs on every rotation and make me cranky. The omnipresence of the topic becomes annoying even to myself, that this is ALL I can focus on, speak about, dream about and the nonsense of it all grates on my last frayed nerve. When I’m not speaking of the wedding, I’m speaking of my BFF Nette’s wedding next month (in which I’m the Maid of Honor). Her bachelorette weekend is in less than two weeks and there are still details to be finalized, money to collect and myriad items left on the checklist. When wedding-speak is off the table, the discussion turns to the recent news that our landlord is selling the house we rent. We have six weeks to find a new rental, pack and move before May 1. I have packed approximately five small boxes of books from my office to date, which taunt me from over my right shoulder as I plow through work by day and set up our wedding website by night. <– See? It ALWAYS circles back to the wedding.
I am learning that life and the changes that inevitably come with it often have a mind of their own. Whether it is through God or another deity or the power of Sharknado, it is a driving force that seemingly chooses for itself where we are to be led and what struggles we face. We may kick and scream in protest, yet it still leads us by the ears into a newly painted room. The fresh fumes still offend our noses but we find ourselves in this foreign space nonetheless, standing there with arms crossed, side-eyed glares and judgment held in reserve. We are unsure if we approve of this new “thing”, but have no choice other than to accept it at face value. This is the reality of our new life, so we better get used to it.
We all have our paths. Get married, don’t get married. Have kids, don’t have kids, aren’t able to have kids. Win jobs, lose jobs. We buy and sell houses, we get sick, we heal up. We say goodbye to loved ones and yes, we transition into new phases whether due to age or simply the passing of time. But sometimes it feels like the catalyst of the change is well beyond our control. More accurately, it feels like life is being a damn bully about it. And whether we like it or not… whether we are overly-prepared for it or unaware of it’s incoming presence… the snowballs are rolling.
How we handle it? Well, that’s up to us as individuals. In my moments of frustration, tears, panic and feeling overwhelmed by it all, the best I can do is remember to be gentle to myself in these tumultuous times. To not listen to those who undermine my feelings with hurtful words that mock my experiences. To remember that I’m allowed my own feelings of inadequacy and fear and pain, regardless of what others think I should be feeling. To above all, stand strong in my beliefs and convictions. And when needed, I especially lean on those who offer me a safe place to rest my head or a secret room to scream and wail.
Because I know the snowy hill will eventually level back out and the calm will return one day. In the meantime, I’ll hold strong to my own kindness and wrap my arms tightly around those who understand me and love me anyway.
I’m linking up again this week at Not So (Small) Stories, where we were given the writing prompt of “Drive”.