I know I went M.I.A. right before my wedding, and I'm sorry about that. I didn't intend to, it just kind of happened. If you know my posts by now, you know there's a story leading up to this, so I'll just dive right in.
In the weeks leading up to my wedding, I really began to resent the wedding. I didn't want to talk to Momma Kettle about the guest list. I didn't want to talk to Mr. Kettle about the honeymoon. I didn't get any work done on my last few DIY projects. I never went to pick up my wedding dress.
I didn't have cold feet. I had an ever-growing resentment towards all things wedding that was only getting worse. I didn't want to blog about it because I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer. Who wants to read about the bride who's about to have the most fabulous wedding ever being resentful of it? No one, that's who.
What was I so resentful of you ask? Well, mostly the guest list. There were a lot of people on the list. Waaay more than I wanted. Before we were even engaged, I told Mr. Kettle I wanted a small wedding of no more than 75 people. After talking with his mother, he realized the guest list would have to be way bigger than that because his family is so large.
Then my parents agreed. The guest list went up to 150. Then 250. Then 350. It just kept going up. The final guest list kept inching up and up. Even after all the RSVPs were in, the list kept going up. One day it was 286. Then it was 289. I was furious that everyone kept adding people.
The final straw was when the pastor at the church where my brother is youth pastor invited himself to the wedding. I've never met this man and wouldn't know him if I saw him on the street. So all the talk of how grateful I should be because so many people love me and want to share my day seemed like a load of bull.
I kept imagining how this intimate moment of exchanging our vows was no longer that. My 75 person wedding had quadrupled. And every final decision that had to be made was out of my control. When it came to the things I really cared about, I was being told my opinion didn't matter or was wrong because there was a certain way things had to be done. When it came to tiny details I could care less about (like the color ribbon on our jumping broom), I was told I was being ridiculous for not wanting to make decisions.
I was miserable. I wasn't feeling elope-y or anything like that. I just had lost all my enthusiasm for this big ass wedding I was about to have. The parts I wanted to be big (i.e., the wedding party, my dress, the fanciness of the venue) weren't enough to outweigh how I was feeling about the guest list.
I started having nightmares. I would be walking down the aisle with my dad. Then he would disappear and it would just be me standing there, with 600 eyes all staring at me. I couldn't recognize anybody, and I couldn't even see Mr. Kettle past all the eyes. Those nightmares were pretty unbearable.
I'm not sure how all this sounds, but I'm just telling my story in case someone else went through anything similar. There are compromises and decisions you make in the planning process that aren't your ideal. But what do you do when you're faced with those decisions ballooning out of your control later and feel trapped?
In the next part, I'll explain the solution Mr. Kettle came up with to our problem.
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