I’m about three weeks away from my wedding and if I’m being completely honest, I’m mostly looking forward to it being over.
I know that probably sounds strange coming from a bride. Every time someone asks me if I’m excited, I find myself pausing before answering because the truth is, what I’m feeling isn’t exactly excitement. It’s more relief. Relief that after months of planning, coordinating, decision-making, vendor discussions, seating arrangements, timelines and endless mental checklists, I can finally close this chapter and move on to everything else waiting for me on the other side.
For a while, I wondered if there was something wrong with me for feeling this way.
After all, weddings are supposed to be one of the happiest moments of our lives. Social media is full of brides counting down the days, talking about how quickly time has flown by and how they wish they could relive every moment. Meanwhile, I’ve been looking at my to-do list and wondering how many more tasks I need to clear before I can finally stop thinking about the wedding.
To clarify, I’m not dreading the marriage. I’m dreading the project. And I think that’s because a wedding and a marriage are two very different things.
Maybe if I was younger, I would feel differently. But at 38, after years of living independently, building a business, navigating illness, family estrangement, moving homes, and figuring out who I am, getting married doesn’t feel like the beginning of my life. It feels like just another milestone within a life that is already well underway.
My Fiancee and I have already built a home together. We’ve already had the difficult conversations. We’ve already navigated renovations, finances, family dynamics, disagreements and all the ordinary moments that reveal who a person really is. The relationship didn’t suddenly become real because we signed some paperwork. It became real through all the years that came before this.
The more I’ve sat with my feelings, the more I’ve realised that what I’m looking forward to isn’t actually the wedding itself.
What I’m looking forward to is having my time back.
The past year has been incredibly full. Between renovation, house move, wedding planning, running my business, rebuilding my website, preparing new collections, writing, studying, and managing everything else life throws at us, there have been so many ideas quietly sitting in the background waiting for my attention. I believe that’s where a lot of the frustration has been coming from.
Planning a wedding is a lot of work. It’s guest lists, timelines, vendor coordination, logistics, follow-ups, payment schedules, and a never-ending mental checklist running quietly in the background. Even when you’re not actively working on it, a part of your brain is still occupied by it. You’ll be having dinner and suddenly remember someone hasn’t RSVP-ed. You’ll be trying to enjoy your weekend and somehow end up thinking about seating arrangements.
For the longest time, I couldn’t quite figure out why it was bothering me so much. Then it finally occurred to me that I’m not someone who gets excited by administration. I get excited by creating things that have meaning.
I get excited by writing. By building my business. By developing new collections. By studying astrology. By bringing ideas to life. I enjoy creating things that continue to grow long after I’ve made them.
Wedding planning, on the other hand, often feels like spending hours discussing details that will matter intensely for one day and then never really be thought about again. The amount of time, energy and mental bandwidth invested can sometimes feel wildly disproportionate to how briefly those details actually matter.
The marriage has incredible ROI. The life we’re building together has incredible ROI.
The seating chart, however, is another story.
I say that partly as a joke, but also because there’s some truth to it. Spending three hours figuring out whether Auntie A should sit beside Auntie B, whether Table 4 should be moved slightly closer to Table 6, or whether the cake cutting song should start at exactly the right verse, has been a surprisingly difficult sell for someone whose brain naturally gravitates towards building things that continue to grow long after they’ve been created.
The funny thing is that I can’t even bring myself to make a half-hearted decision and move on. My character doesn’t really work that way. If something lands on my desk, I’m going to think it through properly. I’m going to consider the options, make sure it aligns with the overall experience, and do it to a standard that I’m comfortable with.
Whether it’s my business, a blog post, a customer order, or a wedding timeline, I’ve never really been a “just anyhow can already” kind of person. And that’s probably where the problem lies. Because once something becomes my responsibility, I care enough to do it properly. But at the same time, another part of me is questioning whether the thing itself deserves this much attention in the first place.
It’s a strange place to be. Caring enough to do something well, while also questioning whether it really matters.
And perhaps that’s what I’ve finally realised that what I’ve been feeling isn’t frustration with the wedding itself. It’s impatience. The impatience to get through this chapter so I can return my attention to the things that have been patiently waiting for me on the other side. To writing more. To building my business. To creating new collections. To developing new offerings. To having the mental space to think about something other than guest lists and timelines.
Because while the wedding lasts a day, the life I’m continuing to build is the part that excites me most.