Three years ago today, I was on NyQuil because I could not get any sleep naturally for the week leading up to the wedding.
Three years ago today, my best friend and my sister-in-law were texting updates to my fiancé on how I was doing. He told them that a walk would be a great way to calm my nerves and "get my dolphins in" -- and that I would understand the last part. My sister-in-law relayed that bit of information to me and I burst into (happy) tears.
Three years ago today, hair and makeup was taking way longer than it should and -- unlike the neurotic mess I was up until an hour before that -- I was calmly giving out directions and orders and telling people where to go.
Three years ago today, I was so sick to my stomach that I had Pepto Bismol tablets in every bag brought into the Searles Castle.
Three years ago today, I was a completely different person. I was roughly 20 pounds lighter than I am now -- all skin and bones from stressing out over my Pre-K job and night courses and moving and getting married; certainly had no muscle mass going on -- and with no sense of assertion. I was unsure about moving to New Hampshire, convinced I was going to be a Pre-K teacher forever, and felt awkward in my own skin. I had a smatter of publishing credits to my name -- all through my university's literary magazine -- and one semi-edited manuscript.
Three years ago today, I did the one thing I swore I would never do: get married. I saw what marriage looked like and it didn't look like fun. I saw the types of relationships I would get into time and time again and had enough self-awareness to understand when a pattern is being formed. I decided at a young age that marriage was not in the cards for me -- and not in the, "Oh why are boys such jerks; I'll never get married!" way.
Three years ago today, nine months of balls-to-the-walls planning finally came together. I boogied my ass off, cried like a baby every chance I get (including but not limited to: before the ceremony, during the ceremony, during our first dance, when my bridesmaids serenaded me, and after the wedding), had exactly one glass of champagne because that's all my stomach could handle, and found myself at the end of the night sitting in one of the guest chairs, looking at the empty reception area, looking out at Searles Castle at night, and thinking to myself, "Did I really just have a wedding?"
And today, I'm almost eight and a half years into this relationship, officially three years into the marriage, hanging out in DC, and eternally grateful that I decided to give the precocious MIT dude who jumped into the seat next to me.