So I haven’t posted a whole lot about weddings these days. It’s mostly because my mind has been more than occupied with my marriage these days than anything else.
Not that there’s anything wrong. Don’t freak y’all. Me and The Candyman are solid. However, I have been learning a lot of interesting things about both myself and my husband in the last couple of months.
We knew that me starting a new job would be a transition. I would no longer be at home cleaning, cooking or running the errands that would make our weekends lovely and generally stress-free weekends. We knew that added income would be an enormous weight off of our shoulders. We knew that The Candyman would have to pick up some additional ‘chores’ to help out. I knew that I’d have to let some of my neurotic cleaning go.
But knowing shit doesn’t mean you get it right.
Last week I came totally undone.
Here’s what happened:
The Candyman and I had a fight. We hadn’t blown up at each other in a while. We do that sometimes; we have a big, fat blow up that reminds us we need to pay the hell attention to each other. We haven’t been doing a whole lot of that though. But there’s a reason! A reason!
Since the weekend before I started to the new full-time gig, we have either been out of town or have had people staying with us EVRY SINGLE WEEK, except for two. So since March 3rd, we’ve been seriously on the go. The two weekends we spent at home were busy catching up with everything – cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping. How do people with kids even function? I have no idea.
So, we’ve been strung out, busy as shit and not eating right. I’m trying to work my 10-12 hour days, keep the house clean and filled with food. Through my company, I was able to get a decent gym membership and I’m adding workouts back into my schedule (the flab issuer is a whole other blog post).
So naturally, I wasn’t feeling 100%. I was run down; exhausted. I had promised myself I wouldn’t let any of this happen. I promised myself I wouldn’t bring the job home. I promised myself I wouldn’t give too much of my self away.
And here I am, doing all the things I said I wouldn’t. Goddammit.
So this where the meltdown comes in. All this crap has been going on and I’m pretending I’m in total control. So The Candyman and I argue and afterwards, I didn’t feel so hot. I go to work, I’m feeling piss-poor and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m upset or if something is physically wrong with me. The days goes on and I’m literally chugging water to try keep the contents of my stomach inside my body. I sit through two 2-hour vendor meetings and I can barely function, praying I don’t puke all over the conference table.
A co-worker tells me I don’t look so hot. Shortly thereafter I’m puking my brains out in the bathroom, barely closing the door behind me before I’m wretching into the toilet. OF COURSE someone walks in and is all “Are you alright?” DUDE. So not alright. At this point, I go home. I get into my car, thankful for my now-empty stomach and as soon as I get out of the parking lot, I start sobbing.
I didn’t plan to cry, but cry I do. The big, ugly, sobbing, nose-running kind of crying. I cry all the way home, gulping huge breaths as I sob over my steering wheel, hoping my tear-blurred vision doesn’t get me killed on the freeway. I get home and continue to sob. I’m starting to scare myself a little because I can’t calm the fuck down. My head is blazing hot and I’m feeling like I’m going to barf again. I dig into the medicine cabinet and find ONE Xanax left over from wedding planning and suck it down like nobody’s business. I spend the rest of the night comatose. The next day, I work from home, afraid of re-creating the public potty scene from the day before. By the time The Candyman gets home, we’ve both realized how we’ve messed up. We both know what we have to let go of, but it’s SO HARD.
I want to be phenomenal in all I do. Not just average. The reality is I can’t do it all. I’ve said that before and yet I still keep trying to be better-than-average. But how can you be better than average when I I’m behind on everything.
I didn’t blog last week because I was going to port over the blog to another host and it just didn’t happen. I tried and failed. I had to actually finish my taxes that still need to be completed (yes, we have an extension). I had to work on a wedding gown for a friend. I had to figure out my 401K shit. Please note the word “had.” What about the word “want?” I WANT to sew for myself. I want to plan something special for The Candyman’s upcoming birthday. I actually want to go to the dentist. I need a cleaning something awful. These don’t seem like unmangable things, right?
So suddenly as I write this post, I’m thinking of change. All kinds of change. Clearly, changes with this blog because I’m writing more and more about life and less and less about wedding crap – which I still love. Don’t think I’m not still drooling over letterpress and Lhuillier. Don’t EVEN think that. But how helpful am I being to brides? I’m not so sure. I feel like the next chapter is coming that it might be The Forty-Something Wife. But God, how fucking boring would that be?