Change

Transitions. I've breathed this word during the past year. I wrote pages of journal entries figuring, or trying to figure, this all out. What does it mean to transition, to change?

Sometimes I wanted to deny that there would be a change. Craig and I lived together already. We loved each other just as much. I tried to tell myself that the wedding would not change anything. I thought this would comfort me.

But it didn't. Even though my living situation stayed the same, I changed. Even though Craig and I have the same love for each other before the wedding as we do now, we changed.

I don't know why, but it is. My relationship with my parents has changed. They see more more as a unit, with a partner. They were always accommodating to make sure Craig was included, but now, it isn't just Craig with me. It is me and Craig. We went out to dinner with my parents this past Sunday, and it was weird. My mom seemed goofy, more childlike. My dad seemed like he still wanted to be protective but didn't know how. Awkwardness. Unsure of how to talk about things.

I haven't felt the changes much with my friends, but I know we will be seen more as a unit, especially when we move to Boston and make new friends. Us. No longer me and him. Us.

Not to say that I've lost my identity or anything like that. Rather, my identity has changed from a single person to a married person. I am still me. But I am no longer able to identify myself as a single person. I have changed.

This was what I was grappling with this past year, during the engagement. I would feel these emotions of fear and worry about the wedding. I would have this undescribeable fear when I thought about the wedding. A nameless fear. It freaked me out. Brides are not supposed to be afraid of their wedding! I thought something was wrong. I would tell myself, "why are you worried? Marrying Craig won't change anything! It will all be the same." My attempts to rationalize the fear with that self-advice didn't work, because my self-advice was wrong and untrue. Because I did change.

I found a book about transitions, The Conscious Bride, and realized that I was thinking about it all wrong. Everything will change -- my identity will change. Change is wonderful, but change is scary.

When I began to see my fears as a natural part of the changes, I began to be able to work through these issues. I worried about finances. Although financially relatively independent, I knew I could always move home if needed. And while I know that if things get really bad, Craig and I could both move home, the freedom to do so will not be the same, and the ability to do so will not be the same. My biggest worry was that I would lose me. I struggled with the concept of intimacy, and worried I would fail at it. I set up invisible boundaries, and I worried I would hold back, try to maintain my sense of self as I knew myself. But allowing myself to think "this is big, you will change" allows me to be okay with worries with finances, and to share those worries with Craig. Change allows me to seek out a new intimacy as a married person, while my identity as a single person wanted me to hold out and protect myself.

I look the same, and act mostly the same. Things do in many ways seem the same. But everything has changed. Realizing this was one of the most freeing thoughts that I have had lately.

One Month

One Month.

A month ago, I woke up oddly calm and ready for the day. The calmness did not come without a nine month history of preparing, journaling, thinking, worrying, and finally, a major freak out the day before leading to my mother taking away my to do list. I spent the morning getting ready, drinking mimosas, and eating brunch at my grandma's house with my sisters and friends.

I met my love at the church I grew up in and we had a meaningful ceremony surrounded with the love of our friends and family.

We walked out of the church, into a borrowed Thunderbird, and felt like we were walking on air. We made our way to a barn and partied with our friends and family.

The whole day felt like a blur, like Craig and I were in our own little bubble. Turns out, we ended up dancing in a sea of bubbles before leaving to start our life together.

Happy One Month, Craig :-)

All pictures taken by Erin Johnson Wingard

Camping

Random piece of advice, don't go camping in the woods with no running water when you are coming down with a urinary tract infection.

Otto and I did survive, though. He came away with only 2 ticks (one dead and stuck, one alive and crawling). I only had two ticks. (both stuck -- eww). I made Craig drive me back while crying outside the tent only once (Friday night -- when the uti decided to rear its head -- I came back to the woods Saturday). I think the only reason I came back was out of love. It had to be. Though it probably would have been better for both of us (and Otto) had I stayed at home. Tents and ticks are not my thing, I've decided. Roughing it is cool, if there is some sort of grander purpose. Mission trip roughing it because you are doing work for others, cool. Visiting foreign (or not so foreign) places and roughing it because campsites are more budget friendly, cool. Loading up a car with enough water, food, wine, beer, and a blow up air mattress only to drive 40 miles and sleep outside in no air conditioning? No thanks. I like my nature in 3 to 4 hour trips.

Maybe next time, when I'm not sick.