A few months ago, someone told me, “Man, you’re obsessed with your wedding.” I laughed at him and quickly argued that I really wasn’t. I would never be the type of person who would obsess over flowers, fabrics, dresses and bathroom trailers.
Except I was.
I became that person.
Not at the time this particular person said that to me, but eventually I’d morphed. It was a mortifying revelation.
And like most personal discoveries, mine came as a result of something much bigger and much more important — the type of thing that puts all the other, much smaller things, into perspective.
I got a call that my grandparents — the two people who raised me from age 11, and who helped mold me into what I am today — had both fallen ill at the same time. And one was hospitalized. There was no other information available.
They live five hours away.
My family, of course, joined together to give them the immediate care they needed, and I drove north for a few days to help out, as well. But it’s a scary thing when the family’s pillars — the people you looked up to and respected your entire life, the strong ones, the leaders — show weakness. Everything else becomes obsolete.
Suddenly, posting a blog first thing Monday morning didn’t really matter. Choosing a bridesmaid dress could wait another week or two. Returning those few phone calls wasn’t such a priority anymore. That growing to-do list went to the bottom of my pile.
My focus became something much more important. Something that really mattered.
I vowed from Day 1 that I wouldn’t be a Bridezilla. That’s just not my style. And I never imagined I’d obsess or stress over wedding details. But it’s funny how that all happens, despite your best intentions. I really had gotten to the point where at least part of each of my days was spent on something wedding-related. And that’s stupid … because (and I know some brides and maybe even mothers of brides will disagree) it’s just a wedding. Honestly. The outcome is the same whether you have matching place settings and filet, or plastic forks and barbecue — you’re still saying “I do” to your partner and best friend in the company of the people you love most. The little things just don’t matter.
I really wish it hadn’t taken such a scary ordeal to shock me back to reality, but I’m not mad. I took two weeks “off” to refocus on myself, my family and my best friend (with whom I got to spend the entire weekend, celebrating his birthday and thanking his dear mother for bringing him into this world and into my life). And mark my words right now — I will not go back to the place I was before, where someone would be tempted to say, “Man, you’re obsessed with your wedding.”
Brides, take this advice: don’t sweat the small stuff. I know it doesn’t seem like “small stuff,” but it is. It will all come together. Trust me. Don’t let all the details consume you. Don’t let stress and frustration take over. This is supposed to be the happiest time of your life. Make every effort to keep it that way.