Wedding (Hell's) Bells

This time last week, I was lounging on the beach of St. Augustine, Florida with a glass of red wine and August's issue of Cosmopolitan. 

Today, dear reader, I write you from the confines of my office, pecking out the lines of my blog in between convincing my clients to pay their bills and trying to sell insurance policies.

The problem is that ever since I returned from vacation, I've been on edge.  I haven't had a full-blown panic attack yet, but I have this free-floating anxiety that I can't seem to shake. I of course anticipate that at any moment, all hell will break loose and I will need to be institutionalized.

Artistic rendering of my future home.

Sunday, July 14th, 2013 is a day that will live in infamy.  On that day, sometime in the late afternoon, Boyfriend officially became Fiancé.

He liked it and subsequently put a ring on it.

Increased anxiety following a major life event...this ain't rocket science, folks.  It's clear where my anxiety is coming from.  But is it normal?

I have the most beautiful diamond solitaire I have ever seen on my hand.  I officially get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend.  I know that my life will probably not change in any way once we are married.  We already own a home together, and live together.  Our finances are combined.  I'm not afraid of being married.  Essentially, we already are.  I think that I am mostly afraid of getting married.

We have been engaged for one week and three days.  I am already stressing about wedding details.  Where should we do it?  When should we do it?  Should I get a dress from a bridal boutique, or order one off the internet from China?  Who are my bridesmaids?  Is Fiancé's sister going to want to be a bridesmaid? (God I hope not.)  3 tier cake or cupcakes?  Red velvet or vanilla?  What type of flowers should we use?  Who to invite?  How are we going to pay for all of this?  I AM LOSING MY MIND.

"Angry Bride Attacks Florist With Stiletto"

To add to my anxiety, I am coping with an identity change.  I have changed from Girlfriend to Fiancée.  Fiancée is nothing but a transitional period, for I will soon become Wife.

Sheryl Paul, author of The Conscious Bride, says this is normal:

"This book is based on the premise that the wedding is a rite of passage, and that all rites of passage--adolescence, the wedding, the birth of a child, a geographic move, a job change, midlife, old age--involve a transformation of identity as the initiate sheds the old way of life and makes way for the new role."

According to Paul, it is okay to experience a sense of grief/loss (and even anxiety!) as we transition from one life phase to another.  I think this is an incredibly wise sentiment, and I wish that society was more accepting of these feelings.  According to cultural norms, I should be bubbling with excitement every moment of every day.  That's not real life.  I AM excited, but not all the time.  I am probably as anxious as I am excited.

And you know what?  It's fine.  I am going to allow myself to experience a full range of emotions while we prepare for our big day.  Lucky for me, I have the unwavering support of Fiancé to help me weather the storm.

Nope to Dope

I am 24 years old, and I have never smoked marijuana.

My mother also suffers from panic disorder. Long before Mom ever met my dad, she worked for a lawyer. Said lawyer invited my then young and impressionable mother to a party at his home, where she tried smoking pot. Her first time would prove to be her only time, as smoking weed caused her to have a panic attack that lasted several hours. Having heard this story numerous times growing up, I am somewhat afraid of the potential effects that the drug could have on me. It is for this reason that I have politely declined each time someone has passed me a joint.

In the past few weeks, I have had no fewer than three people offer marijuana to me to help my anxiety.

"Here, bro."

The way I see it, my smoking weed could really only go one of three ways:

1. I have the same reaction to marijuana that my mother did. I have the worst anxiety attack of my life and end up going to the emergency room for help. The hospital staff call the police and I am arrested for doing drugs. I go to jail. Or something.

Dead weight.

2. Smoking weed goes AWESOME. I feel calmer than I ever have in my life and I regret not having done this sooner. In the months following, I gain 150 pounds due to a lack of exercise and a chronic case of "the munchies."

Dinner time.

3. Smoking pot is relatively uneventful. A few days after trying it, however, I am offered my dream job as a professional mattress tester and must submit to a drug test.

Where can I find clean urine at this hour?

I feel fairly certain that getting high will end catastrophically for me no matter how you spin the situation. I won't say that I'll never try it, because maybe I will one day. For now though, I'm just gonna have to pass.