I began planning our wedding a year ago. A year ago I was also spending my days crunching numbers, presenting strategies to the big bosses, and eating lunch at my computer.
In the past five months I've been bopping around like a ping-pong ball - I've taken workshops with 3 BOMB floral designers, traveled to Texas for a growers' school with flower farmers from all over the country, spent sunny days and rainy days learning and working alongside a badass flower farmer outside the city, and became a shop girl at my favorite design studio in SF. Believe that?
In the past two years I've also developed anxiety in large crowds. It officially became a "pattern" when I had a meltdown in Times Square after my bachelorette party two weeks ago. Sweaty, crying, wheeling my luggage in and out of throngs of tourists and Cookie Monster, all I wanted was Pinkberry and my mommy. Can't rethink the 180 person guest list for our wedding though. This train's a comin and there's nothing I can do about it.
Amidst all of the hugging and running around, I'm hoping our wedding weekend will be peppered with sweet, intimate moments as well.
Sitting in traffic, talking about all of this with a friend last week, I remembered a buddhist principle that nudged me back to footed ground.
Let go of expectations.
I can do that. I want to experience the day just like everyone else. Smiling, crying, watching, dancing (I really wish I wasn't such an ugly cryer, though. My nose blows up like gonzo and my whole face gets red and blotchy. Take note, Gabbi. Lots of pictures before the ceremony).
At the end of the night, it'll be Greg and I, sitting in our beach chairs in the back of our rented pickup truck, waving goodbye to the all of the people who have touched our lives and made the long trip to shake a leg with two lucky little lovebirds. It's all good - as long as none of them requests Living on a Prayer.