Scratch that.
The beginning isn't all that weird. It's exactly what you'd expect--a couple days of glitter, butterflies, and warm fuzzies. A thousand congratulations. More facebook notifications than you know what to do with. It's like your birthday and Christmas came at once and tiny fluffy puppies miraculously rained down out of the sky.
After that comes some wedding panic, which is also an expected feeling.
VENUE
DRESS
COLORS
FLOWERS
FOOD
MUSIC
FREAKING GUEST LIST
But once the big things get checked off the wedding list--that's when things get weird. Because then it settles in that holy crap I'm actually going to live with this person as long as we're both alive, and we're going to have houses and babies and teenagers and disagreements and vacations together.
And at this point of the game, the two of you actually have to start making big decisions together.
As a single unit.
Where you once simply had to decide on what to do and where to eat dinner, you must now decide on things like
a phone plan,
a car insurance plan,
where you're going to live,
where you'll go to church,
how your money will be spent,
when and how many kids you'll have,
how you'll keep from having those children until it's time,
what you'll do about the holidays,
what your future goals are,
and
so on,
and
so forth.
Like me, you may know (or have known) that these were all things that would come up before marriage. But it's one thing to KNOW that you'll have to make these decisions, and another to go through the process of making them.
You really get to know yourself AND your significant other in these decisions, in a way that you'll never know anybody else. It's like digging into each other's souls with sharp little shovels.
I've never done that before.
It's a weird thing.
Josh and I are more solid than a lot of engaged couples, and even we still have cold feet moments.
Why?
Because we know this is a big deal, and it's scary.
Every day, we will have to sacrifice our desires for the good of our sacred union.
We will come face-to-face with our selfishness.
We will have to swallow I-told-you-sos and Why-can't-you-justs and I-deserves.
That's all noble and whatnot, but isn't it easy to pick at and criticize people you know really well?
I don't know about you, but I'm super good at finding the flaws of others, and I'm also good at correcting them because I'm a teacher and that's what I do.
Josh and I have always had pretty healthy, open communication, but in the last two months of making these kinds of decisions I feel that we've really gotten to know each other.
And guess what.
Our brains work differently.
Our baggage is gross.
And even clear communication isn't always crystal.
It's hard to describe the shift that's taking place in our relationship, other than to say that it's deep, it's good (though it doesn't always feel that way), and it's weird.
We are both, however, becoming more excited about the marriage than we are about the wedding.
Pretty sure that's the way it's supposed to be.
Now, here are some examples of our great communication:
The beginning isn't all that weird. It's exactly what you'd expect--a couple days of glitter, butterflies, and warm fuzzies. A thousand congratulations. More facebook notifications than you know what to do with. It's like your birthday and Christmas came at once and tiny fluffy puppies miraculously rained down out of the sky.
After that comes some wedding panic, which is also an expected feeling.
VENUE
DRESS
COLORS
FLOWERS
FOOD
MUSIC
FREAKING GUEST LIST
But once the big things get checked off the wedding list--that's when things get weird. Because then it settles in that holy crap I'm actually going to live with this person as long as we're both alive, and we're going to have houses and babies and teenagers and disagreements and vacations together.
And at this point of the game, the two of you actually have to start making big decisions together.
As a single unit.
Where you once simply had to decide on what to do and where to eat dinner, you must now decide on things like
a phone plan,
a car insurance plan,
where you're going to live,
where you'll go to church,
how your money will be spent,
when and how many kids you'll have,
how you'll keep from having those children until it's time,
what you'll do about the holidays,
what your future goals are,
and
so on,
and
so forth.
Like me, you may know (or have known) that these were all things that would come up before marriage. But it's one thing to KNOW that you'll have to make these decisions, and another to go through the process of making them.
You really get to know yourself AND your significant other in these decisions, in a way that you'll never know anybody else. It's like digging into each other's souls with sharp little shovels.
I've never done that before.
It's a weird thing.
Josh and I are more solid than a lot of engaged couples, and even we still have cold feet moments.
Why?
Because we know this is a big deal, and it's scary.
Every day, we will have to sacrifice our desires for the good of our sacred union.
We will come face-to-face with our selfishness.
We will have to swallow I-told-you-sos and Why-can't-you-justs and I-deserves.
That's all noble and whatnot, but isn't it easy to pick at and criticize people you know really well?
I don't know about you, but I'm super good at finding the flaws of others, and I'm also good at correcting them because I'm a teacher and that's what I do.
Josh and I have always had pretty healthy, open communication, but in the last two months of making these kinds of decisions I feel that we've really gotten to know each other.
And guess what.
Our brains work differently.
Our baggage is gross.
And even clear communication isn't always crystal.
It's hard to describe the shift that's taking place in our relationship, other than to say that it's deep, it's good (though it doesn't always feel that way), and it's weird.
We are both, however, becoming more excited about the marriage than we are about the wedding.
Pretty sure that's the way it's supposed to be.
Now, here are some examples of our great communication:
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