Tag Archives: Stress


Throughout the engagement and planning process, much like the question we hear now, nearly everyone around us would ask us the same thing, or a variant of such:

How are you doing?

How are you feeling?

Are you nervous/anxious/ready?

We understood it was all well-intentioned.

During the earlier stages, the question was one that would invite a lengthy response which usually corresponded with more intricate details about plans, ideas, giddiness, etc.

However in the immediate days prior, it became like that damn mosquito that hovers near your ear when you’re trying to sleep, just to flit out of reach as you go to conquer it.

It felt as though every time someone asked us, we melted a little more, and not in a good way.

This all came to a head the night before, during a joint family barbeque put on by mi familia. We were tired, frazzled, anxious, overwhelmed, underwhelmed … we were, indeed, ALL THE THINGS.

We appreciated, and still do, everything everyone did for us. But at that point, we’d traveled for three days, had reunions galore from halfway around the world, partied for our hens and stags, missed one marriage license appointment, had another that very morning, finalized all the details, had some miscommunication meltdowns with the coordinator, done a run-through, were under pressure to see everyone we hadn’t, got lost on the way to the barbeque and here we were. With many asking us how we were feeling.

Cue: Meltdown.

It, unfortunately, was one of my sweet, poor, unsuspecting aunts who triggered it. Luckily, she’s got a good head on her shoulders and took it quite well when I turned to her and said:

“Quite honestly, if one more person asks me that question, I’m going to lose it.”

I then stepped away, with Aussie, and cried. Not for being sad, not for being scared. Just for being so overwrought with emotion and stress and pressure. We tried to return to the party, but we couldn’t even finish a beer. A sure sign we were finito.

Luckily, our amazing photographers who’d been there, done that, and my super awesome pseudo-mama, Sooz, took notice. The three came over and told us, under no uncertain terms, that it was quite all right for us to bow out and go back to the hotel.

So we did.

We flopped on our bed, curled up together and just stared. After a while we put on an episode of whatever show we were watching at the time. And we passed out.

We really did appreciate all the concern and checking in, but weddings are hard. I’m happy we didn’t go ‘zilla, but it wasn’t a graceful moment.

Planning weddings is stressful. Being around a ton of family and friends, especially when you haven’t seen them in a while, can be stressful. Add all the elements together? It’s a recipe for implosion.

We survived, obviously, and being with our friends the next morning helped to ease the tension.

We learned, through this experience, that even though we knew the wedding wasn’t about just us, nor was it just about our families, etc., it was about weathering the storm together. It was likely (maybe with the exception of a moment or two during the hens/stags) our most graceless moment, and one I’m not happy about.

But, it did set up boundaries, boundaries we badly needed. We needed to step away and just have some us time, time we hadn’t been able to have up until that point. It’s unfortunate it took that moment, those actions, for us to realize it, but that set up a template for us to be able to recognize it in the future. Which makes knowing what we need, what our boundaries are, not so tough right now.

Juju Ivanyuk by Ben Hassett for Numéro #128 on Fashion Gone Rogue
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Gulp …

Ok, not sure what’s causing this … but

I might be freaking out a little.


Maybe it’s because we really are getting close. Maybe it’s because I have not yet figured out who can alter my dress for a good price. Maybe it’s because I haven’t ordered the pinwheels, or his hat, or figured out what hors d’oeuvres we’re serving.

Or maybe it’s because I’m a tight ass when it comes to money and when I finally sat down today and figured out where we were at and what we have left …


Sure, we’re in a fine spot because we’ve pretty much got all the material shizz we need. But then I realized we have the BIG STUFF ahead of us. Like food. And booze. And hotel. And rental car. Guh.

I know we can do it, but it’s daunting. It’s scary. Sure we have our tax returns and 5 more months to save some cash-money, yo, but it’s still scurrrrryyy.

I know I know. I just need to chill because it’ll all work itself out and it’ll be fine. I know this. But for now, I’m going to hide my panic in some Dr. Who and a bottle of wine. Mmmkay?


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It hasn’t been an easy week or two. I’ve been trying really hard to not let external forces get to me, but they have. They won. I lost worse than the Cubs have been doing in the post-season for ages. There’s just so much going on and so little I can actually control … or if I can control it, it’s too much. My head is spinning and my jaw is agape at all that is taking place. I’ve finally had my

meltdown. No biggie. Necessary sometimes, in order for me to pick up the pieces and continue on.

On the upside, only 26 more days until

the season truly begins. Yessss!!!!!!!


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One small step …

I’ve done it. The Olympics are over. I’ve survived … with *some* of my sanity left. 

And, I’m getting a day off. Tomorrow. And Leigh isn’t working. Yay me.

But I still feel on the verge of a meltdown. Maybe it’s my perpetually filthy apartment. Maybe it’s the funk that seems to ascend — without fail — this time of year. Maybe it’s because the snow this winter hasn’t been particularly epic, despite the fact that I’ve had many an awesome Saturday on the mountain. Maybe it’s because my roommates suck. Maybe it’s that I just need more sunshine.

Things are just … off. Not with anything in particular. In fact, in the vast majority of my life, things couldn’t be better. But there is a lingering, nagging wretch on my shoulder that keeps just dragging me down further and further. And I can’t put my thumb, or the proverbial flyswatter, on it. And it’s making me grumpy.



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I’m tired.

Many of you have already heard me whinge about this, but the effing Olympics are ruining my life.

Well, not really the Olympics, per se. It’s more like the timing of the Olympics. How they’re an hour behind us, how I end up having to stay to add something last minute, like ‘So and So who we haven’t been following in the World Cup and who was a mediocre player in the last nine Winter Games’ has managed to finish fourth in qualifying, which isn’t even a final — but! Oh! Isn’t it just intriguing nonetheless, so why shouldn’t we include it as a small little brief in addition to everything else I’ve already piecemealed together.

Oh, and the fact that they’re the WINTER games. As if my life wasn’t already tossed about during the winter, trying to fit in every aspect of chores and friends and relationships into half days and still be able to dedicate one solid day to doing the one thing I look anxiously forward to for months without having to worry about getting everything else done, but to add long days for very little satisfaction on top of it all! Well, shit. I’m just out of fumes.

And – on top of it – there’s this little thing called a wedding I’m trying to plan.

I’m exhausted. I don’t sleep well, what with roommates and neighbors constantly stomping about in ski boots and two boys-turned-bulldozers sleeping in my room.

I think it may be time for me to put the big W-planning on the back burner for a bit. There’s just not much I can do at this point without really jumping the gun. Let shit simmer for a bit, yeah? Enjoy this lovely winter wonderland. Compile a mass of ideas so I can properly arrange my thoughts.

Or at least get my fucking save the dates out at some point.

I shall blog again … very soon. But it may be a bit more about life beyond the planning. Like this dream of a real life.

Off to bed.


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Sometimes …

Temper Tantrum

Throwing a good old scream-and-cry-til-you-can’t-breathe temper tantrum would be so much fun. Well, maybe not fun, but re-energizing. You know, the kind where you just start windmilling your arms and your hands are balled up into fists and you pretty much go destructo on anything in your path. I hope the things in my path would be my roommates. That would make me happy.

It was so wonderful for so long to have this place to just the two of us and the hound. Even before that, with our amazing landlord and super-cool friend were the best roommates. We definitely got spoiled.

But now it’s stomping, door-slamming and general household malaise. I don’t know who’s on edge more: Me, or the dog. I dread coming home, but I’m too tired and in too much need of needing to do stuff that I can’t go anywhere else. I often want to go hide in my room, but it’s more often than not such a disaster the pure thought of holing up in there is purely frightening.

Grumble grumble grumble.

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