Karma

Today is the day that the divorce of my ex and she-for-whom-he-left-me will be final. I've probably been thinking about it more than I should, but to some degree it feels like it ends a chapter for me, too. It finally brings to an end the saga that was that whole debacle. And this, my friends, is the last blog post about it.  I hope. 

She and I have reached our own little detente, strangely enough. She apologized to me years ago, and I don't have ill will for her. Besides, there's nothing I could wish for her that's worse than she got from being married to him herself.  And she has the added issue of dealing with him regularly, forever, as they have a child to parent.

But him.  He's a different case. I truly don't believe that he will ever truly understand that what he did to me (or the woman before me, or the woman after me, or all the women DURING me) was wrong, or inappropriate, or hurtful in any way.  When he discovered that I was communicating with his soon-to-be-ex-wife, he was upset and didn't understand why I would talk to her.  He thought I was directing my anger "at the wrong person," namely him, and that I should be angry at her, not him.  He could not comprehend why he and I couldn't be friends, why I couldn't just remember the "good" times, blah blah blah. He just doesn't have the emotional capacity to really get it.  So I'll never get that from him- true understanding or remorse.  But I do have some things I didn't before. 

My newlywed state, coinciding with the impending divorce of my ex, gave me a lot to think about what it all meant to me now. A new definition for marriage and love.  Obviously for me, those words have had wildly varied meanings at different times. With my ex, marriage meant drama and anxiety and fears and walking on eggshells and sacrifice of self (and not in a  good way).  Things I've learned from my own mistakes, and from Fella himself, and from those of you who have been here with me during it all. 

And for learning that, and living it with Fella, I suppose I have my ex to thank.

Attack

So yesterday at yoga, I was not doing too well.  It was super hot (of course) and it seemed extra humid, and I was just not having a good day of it.  Then at one point, I thought I might vomit.  The feeling passed super quickly, actually, but then for some reason I thought that I would really like to leave.  

At Bikram Yoga, they don't lock you in the room, as some people think.  But you are STRONGLY ENCOURAGED to stay in the room.  Literally, maybe only twice as someone left the room during a class I was in.  So you don't leave just because you think you might like to.

And I thought I might like to.

And I knew I shouldn't, I didn't really even have a reason.  But the next thing I knew I was totally anxious about it.  I had an anxiety attack about the fact that I wanted to leave the room! That has never happened before. It was mild, for sure, and it wasn't too difficult to keep it under control, but still.  So, I stayed there, I made it through, I even kept doing the poses.  And at the end when it was over and I COULD leave, I stuck around just a little extra while.  Just to show my anxiety where to stuff it.

Fine.

So P says I need to blog more, and I said that I didn't have anything to really blog about, but I remembered that back in the day when I blogged all the time, I didn't really have much to say then either, I just blogged anyway. So here I go, I'm going to try to blog a few times a week.

Today is Fella's birthday.  He asked for a tie.  Yes, like a NECKTIE.  He is such a grown up it's so weird.  Anyway, he wants a tie, and he shall have a tie. Two actually (Brooks Brothers was having a 50% off sale).  And a bottle of cologne I got a ridiculously good price on (at TJ MAXX), and dinner at Ruth's Chris.  He is a whole 33 years old today.  Yes, in fact, I am a cradle robber. :)

Today's is Merlin's 7th Gotcha Day.  Which means that he came to live with me seven whole years ago.  Time flies, flies, flies.

I haven't written my book yet. The book that I started two and a half years ago, and the one I was going to write when I left Colorado and moved to Charlotte for the summer.  Part of the reason I'm trying to restart the blogging is so that I can get writing again.  Writing ANYTHING.

So... yoga.  When I was going almost every day, my skin was fine, but if I went only here and there it would break out.  As the wedding approached I was busier and busier and wasn't making it on a daily basis, so I quit going altogether so my skin would be clear for the wedding.  And then... I never went back. Until this week.  I went on Monday, which I had to pretty much force myself to do, and I came out of there in the BEST MOOD EVER and I was all bouncy and energetic.  Then I started remembering all the good things about it-- how I quit clenching my jaw, how I was so calm and way less anxious than normal. So I went again on Thursday, and I'll try to go again tomorrow.  And at least three times a week from now on.  And the thing I have to remember is while I don't necessary love doing the class, I LOVE having done the class.  And so I shall.  Unless and until I get knocked up and have to switch to a non-hot yoga class.

Well looky there.  And I thought I had nothing to say...

Boring

I feel like I should have so much to write about! I'm married! We're newlyweds! The wedding was perfect! Yay!

And yet, I don't.  Because the wedding was perfect, I don't have great stories to tell about how everything went wrong. I have ONE oddity to report:

A woman walked in to the "Bride's Room" where I was kickin' it with my Mom, sister, niece, and P. Pre-wedding photos had been taken, and we were just waiting for the time to pass.  So, anyhoo, in walks this woman, the only non-wedding party person to enter the room since I had dressed.  She looked at me, all smiles, and said, "We haven't met." and I was thinking "no, we haven't" and she followed that up with, "Do you know who I am?" And all I could say was "No."  Anyway, it was my mother-in-law's sister, inappropriately coming to introduce herself to me. And then she left.

That's it. Nothing else was off.  I was calm, although at almost the very last second I decided to have my mom walk me down the aisle rather than go unescorted because I was worried about walking by myself in those ridiculously high heels with everyone looking at me.  I was thrilled with my hair and makeup, and was happier than ever with my dress. I kept looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, "I look like me, but I look like me AWESOME."  See?

The ceremony was beautiful, moving, and really quite lovely, and I was mostly aware and present.  At the reception I initially felt somewhat awkward, as hostess, wanting to make sure everyone was taken care of and enjoying their dinner and having a good time. The food was EXCELLENT, I was so happy about it, and I eventually relaxed.  While my parents and their contemporaries tore up the dance floor, we hovered at tables of our friends and chatted,which was the opposite of what I expected to happen, but I didn't care. It wasn't a crazy wild dance party, but we are not crazy wild dance party people, really. At the end, guests were leaving a bit earlier than expected and we had to decide when to make our grand sparkler-lit exit.  It was a great celebration, and we were surrounded by people that love us, and throughout the pictures I have a big ridiculous grin on my face.  Like this one:

Married.

Three

So.

Three days to go.

Things have pretty much fallen into place, though I feel like I've been going eleventy million different directions, especially the past week.  I've been trying to work as much as possible, and stay focused on my cases, but it's just hard.

Today we delivered the alcohol to the caterer- our last major task.  I have a few errands left, but nothing much.  I've picked up my dress, confirmed with every vendor, met with the DJ, made all the place cards, pre-rehearsed with the priest and the church lady, etc. I've written thank you notes for all the gifts we received before today.

We had people who had previously said they were coming call to say they weren't, people who had never RSVPed finally say they WERE coming, the first people who changed their mind about coming decided that they could, in fact, come, another couple called to cancel... and if I had to rearrange those tables and the seating chart one more time I thought I'd scream.  A couple times I've gotten overwhelmed and was ready to kill someone (Fella, my clients, Fella...) but it passed quickly and for the most part I've been pretty calm.  I had a dream that the wedding flowers were ugly and I was very very sad.  I keep reminding myself that flowers are not crucial.

They sure are nice, though. ;)

It at once feels far away and unbelievably imminent. I at once feel exhausted and wired.  P will be here tomorrow. My family is here.  My checklist has been mostly checked, there is not much else I can do to prepare.

I am ready.

Bikram

In about mid-January, a friend of mine started raving about Bikram Yoga.

"It's amazing!" she gushed.  "It's like a legal club drug."

I decided she was crazy.  I knew about Bikram Yoga.  It was that crazy yoga, they do it in a super hot room.  I'd done yoga. I like yoga!  It's calming and relaxing.  I like the stretching.  Especially I like the lying on the floor being still.  I do not like being hot.  Hot would ruin yoga. Plus, exercise? Yeah, I don't.  I just don't.  Really, ever.

So I humored her. I told her I would try to come. And I secretly planned to continue doing so until she got tired of the yoga and quit.

Then my wedding dress arrived.  And I couldn't get it on.

Without giving away too much, I will say my dress is fitted enough in certain places that the damn thing was just not going on.  The same day, I went to my first Bikram Yoga class.

I'll tell you this. They don't lie about the hot. It's hot.  Bikram studios are supposed to be "around" 105 degrees.  That's hot. On top of that, it's "around" 50% humidity.  So... yeah.  Not my favorite conditions.  But I made it through the first class. 

I didn't think it was "a legal club drug." Not even close. But I was proud of myself for sticking it out, and I had a huge feeling of accomplishment. 

And the next day, I went back.

And the next day.  And the next. Bikram Yoga is 90 minutes of torture.  That's what they themselves say, the Birkam Yogis.  90 minutes of pain, to save you from 90 years of pain, Bikram likes to say.  He also says, "give me 30 days I'll change your body. Give me 60 days, I'll change your life."

In the first 14 days, I went to 11 classes.  Since then, I've averaged about 5 times a week.  FIVE TIMES A WEEK.  I've never sweat so much in my life.  This week I haven't, because of various events, work obligations, wedding planning meetings... and I miss it.  I miss it!!  What craziness is this?

I'll tell you.

In the first 6 weeks of classes, I lost an inch from my waist and an inch and a half from my hips.  I feel taller, my lungs expand further.  I'm stronger.  I stand up straighter. I haven't needed my day time mouth guard that prevents me from clenching my teeth or the muscle relaxer I would take when the mouth guard wasn't enough.  I did not freak out when we lost our venue.  I am far less anxious in general.

Don't get me wrong. I still don't think it's anything remotely like a legal club drug.  I don't enjoy the class. I don't like it at all.  But I like the way I feel afterward. And I like the way my physical appearance is changing.   

My plan is to try to keep up a 4 class per week practice until... well, if we're lucky enough to have a... change of... situation, I'll have to stop.  Until then, I'm going to try to continue this new habit.  So far, I'd say Bikram  has definitely changed my body. Hopefully, he'll also change my life.

P.S. Speaking of life-changing... Um, I'm GETTING MARRIED in 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS!  EEK!

SERIOUSLY

Y'all. 

So in my last post I told you about the whole foreclosure situation. Well... it didn't turn out to be "unlikely to affect our date" as I hoped. It completely and TOTALLY affected our date when the insurance company pulled coverage for the venue and it was forced to close. It was even on the news. The owner had been long gone, but the people that managed it were trying to hold it together for the events that had been booked.  But no. 

So I had a very wee anxiety moment (really, held it together pretty well), made some phone calls, my caterer made some phone calls, my day-of coordinator (who is working much harder than just the day of) made some phone calls.  And we got ourselves a spot.  A really good one, actually.  It's a place I hadn't considered because they require you to use their caterer and it's expensive. However, due to the circumstances, they are allowing brides that originally booked the doomed venue to use the space with their own caterers.  Which is really nice.  So that's that.

Fortunately we had only made the deposit payment, and Fella's credit card company is probably going to refund that.  And we were able to pretty easily find a place we liked.  So for us, no major loss.  For that poor bride with only 13 days to find something else, it's crappy.

This wedding is making me tired. 

Really.

And the hits just keep on coming.

In December, the lady that is baking our wedding cakes (the aunt of a friend) lost her sister (my friend's mother) to a stroke and has been a bit out of pocket since that time. Completely understandable of course, and no biggie, I know she'll be there when it counts.  But I still don't know how much my cake is going to cost, she hasn't given me a quote yet.


In January, my florist's 47 year old husband unexpectedly died. I am assured that she is pouring herself into her work to help herself heal and I should not be concerned about my flowers.  But I haven't really gotten confirmation on that yet.


This weekend I learned my reception venue is in foreclosure, but the bank is allowing events to go forward until the process is complete, PLEASE TAKE MORE THAN 74 DAYS THANK YOU.  Someone is apparently trying to buy it and if he is successful intends to continue business as usual.  It is unlikely this will affect our date.  But REALLY?  Come on, man.

I feel like I should contact my photographer, caterer, DJ and priest and make sure everyone's family members and finances are in good health.

Bridal

So, I haven't written that much about wedding planning, because this isn't a wedding planning blog and you guys don't care about how crazy this whole thing is. But seriously.  Wedding stuff has moved into my head and taken over occupancy and it won't go away. 

I had a couple of anxiety attacks of the kind I haven't experienced since right before the Bar Exam.  These have pretty much gone away since all the deposits have been sent and all the various wedding elves have been booked.  Though I had a miniature breakdown the other day because I realized I hadn't figured out what Fella and his Best Man's ties would look like.


At night, I have the hardest time falling asleep.  There's really not anything to worry about, not really. Everyone whose services I need has been reserved.  Locations are secure. Major decisions made (except the honeymoon, which is entirely Fella's decision and still hasn't been made).  But there are still things! Things that could happen! Things that need to use up my mental energy and occupy my mind! Things that require worrying! And they spin from one topic to the next...

What if I do fall down walking down the aisle?  I really like the symbolism (in my own mind if no one else's) of not being "given away," of doing this act as a grown up independent woman making my own choices.  But those heels are high.  And what if I trip over my dress?  That would be highly mortifying.  Especially with all those people on Fella's side I have never met before.  That will make an awesome impression.  It's not my favorite thing, meeting new people.  I know I have to be a good hostess and I do want to get to know Fella's extended family and the people that are important to him.  But there are so many of them! And I want to have the chance to be with my closest friends and family, too, to celebrate.  Oh, and who am I going to seat at a table with Mr & Mrs Loudandrude?  I feel sorry for whomever I choose, but somebody has to do it.  What if people don't like their tablemates?  What if everybody wants to switch tables and it messes up the caterers and they take people the wrong food?  What if people don't like the food?  What if they think a seated dinner is boring and lame?  What if they think I'm no fun at all, and they don't hang around for the dancing?  What if nobody dances?  What if EVERYBODY dances, and the dance floor is too crowded?  What if instead of my feeling surrounded by love and joy with the important people in my life, the guests don't seem happy or joyous or loving?  What if people go home early and nobody has fun?  What if the people that I don't get to invite are mad at me because the didn't get invited, and the people I do invite are mad because the party was lame? What if when I trip down the aisle I break my leg and the whole thing gets all messed up and I don't even end up married because we have to we have to leave the church and go to the hospital?

So, you see what I mean.  I'm crazy.  

Real

The wedding invitations are here. 

They arrived on our doorstep Thursday, discovered when we returned home from a tasting at the caterer.  I dug into the box and we both giggled while we read it.  "It's real," he said. 

I ran my finger across the raised lettering on the thank you cards, that read "Mr. and Mrs. Fella Fellaslastname" and he said there were times he thought he'd never see that.

For some reason, the arrival of the invitations has calmed me. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that the last vendor was booked the same day, but still... I have one propped up in my office and it reminds me that all that really matters at the end of this is that we're married.  Even if I trip over my too-high heels, or the flowers are the wrong color, or the table linens aren't the perfect shade of champagne.

Hard to believe that life can be this good. 

Eight

My niece turned 8 years old Monday. The Christmas right before she was born, I went up to Michigan, where my sister and her husband lived, to await her arrival, due on December 28.  She did not choose to join us until after I returned home of course.  It feels like last week, and it feels like a century ago.

I was engaged then, too. I was ass-over-teakettle for Mr. Never-Really-Was-Incredible. Completely oblivious to...everything.  This time, things are so different it's hard to even compare the two situations.  This time, my ass is firmly below my teakettle.  I'm not swept away, it's not about rainbows and unicorns.  That girl thought she'd found The One. I don't even believe in The One anymore. I don't believe in soul mates, not the way I did.  I don't believe in perfect relationships.  I believe in making it work with one person that you love and respect, that loves and respects you in return (thank you, Songbird).


I still struggle, I won't lie.  I have never had a healthy romantic relationship, so it is difficult for me to recognize it. My therapist compares it to the way a child will go out into the world, knowing that whatever happens, Mom will be there when you get home, Mom will help, Mom will always love you.  That's what love is like. Safe, reliable, secure, and CALM.  That was a watershed moment for me, because love has always been fireworks, and crazy passion, drama, tears, game-playing. Apparently I've mistaken the anxiety that results from all that for Great Love.  And the closer the wedding gets, the more I think about the wrong decisions I've made and how to make the right ones.  Am I crazy for trying again? Is HE crazy for wanting to marry me- as messed up as I am?  Should we scrap all this marriage baloney and just live together? Is the anxiety I'm experiencing now just wedding planning crazies? Or my neuroses rearing their ugly heads? Or something bigger?  And all I can figure out is that this is what I want, that he is not my ex, and that I am perfectly capable of doing this.  Even though it freaks me right out. And every once in a while I have to take a deep breath, and remind myself that I am not irretrievably broken.

So, current status: We are 115 days from The Day, wedding planning in full turbo mode.  Most decisions have been made and most vendors booked.  It's gotten a bit larger and more involved that we originally intended, but I think that's the nature of the beast.  My goal is to be surrounded by love and joy and peace. Given that such things are not plannable, I'm focusing on music and food and flowers.