Posts Tagged ‘Stress’

It finally happened. After lots of “can’t wait to celebrate” RSVP cards rolling in, we finally got the RSVP we were dreading. Not the one where someone can’t come because they are going to be on a fabulous European vacation. We got the RSVP that came enclosed in a long, handwritten note from one of Anne’s childhood friends. Though they don’t see each other often, this person has been a wonderful support to Anne this past year, keeping Anne in her thoughts and prayers, sending cute cards and funny old photos, small things that have been bright spots for Anne while she fought her way out of depression. And in what we thought might be another cute card from her, we read “After much consideration, I decided not to attend your ceremony…I pray that we will remain friends despite my absence.”

There was a lot said in that ellipsis that mentioned her path to faith, her Christian convictions, and a few bible quotes about seeking guidance from God, and making peace. Anne’s friend is super Christian, and her faith is clearly an important part of her life. And I think that’s great for her. Anne and I were both raised with church-going Christian families. Anne is still actively involved in her Episcopalian church, while I consider myself a recovering Catholic. I respect her right to live a life based on her beliefs and values. But I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little bit crushed that one of Anne’s oldest friends (who I barely know, but know is important to Anne), one of her best supporters during a difficult time in her life, was choosing to stay away from us while we celebrate such a wonderful milestone. It was surprising. We were at her wedding, to her non-Christian husband. I felt that her love and support of Anne all these years, her acceptance of her non-Christian husband into her family, meant that maybe she was one of those super-Christians with a super open mind and heart. And maybe she still is. But it hurts to know that one of the two oldest friends Anne wanted to be there won’t be, because she does not accept Anne fully for who she is and who she loves. One the one hand I respect Anne’s friend for standing behind her beliefs, which are clearly stronger than her desire to accept us as we are. But I wish she’d lied to us and said she was out of town, it may have hurt less. I hurt for Anne, for the disappointment I saw on her face when she realized this wasn’t going to be a cheerful thinking-of-you card, it was a rejection on religious grounds.

In my shock, disappointment, sadness and eventual indignation, I started to realize that there are likely other invited guests who have chosen not to attend for similar reasons, but who leave us guessing as to their justifications for “can’t make it” responses. I realize that it is not exactly my business why someone opts out of our wedding. Maybe they don’t want to travel, maybe they are busy, maybe it’s a school/work night. Maybe our wedding is – gasp – not nearly as important to them as it is to me. I get that, and I have to accept that. But maybe their rejection of our invitation stems from their rejection of me, of Anne, of our choice to be together.  And that part, that possibility that others – and the certainty that Anne’s friend – have rejected us because of being gay just breaks my heart a little bit, into tiny sharp pieces that keep sneaking into my thoughts and hurting me all over again.

At these times, when I feel the sharp sting of rejection, I need to remind myself of the dozens of people who have with their time, talents, voices, or silent support chosen to be with us at the wedding, and in all other aspects of our life together.  I must think of those of you who are reading this and in doing so open your hearts just a little bit more to us, and to all the others in the world out there like us, to the notion that we are all deserving of love and equal treatment even from the most conservative of you. We are so incredibly grateful for the love and support of so many other of our friends and families. I am so proud of my aunt and cousin, who out of the kindness of their hearts threw us a bridal shower this weekend. I am so grateful for my Catholic grandmother for hugging me, for celebrating our upcoming marriage over sandwiches and gift-wrapped kitchen wares, for getting to know Anne’s mother, sister, aunt and cousin. I am so glad for our friends who want to participate in our wedding planning, who are reaching out to help with un-started crafts, tagging along to boring appointments with a tailor, excitedly looking forward to dancing with us.

We are filled at once with love and loss. I wonder how many others in our lives (wedding guests or otherwise) are made uncomfortable by the very thing that we are celebrating – our relationship, our unabashed care and love for each other, our public display of our promises to each other. What is so wrong with that? Why can’t the people who are such foundational parts of our lives – our family, our oldest friends – set aside their religious beliefs to celebrate what I feel is the true driving force of all faith: love one another. At what point do I balance asking others to accept and respect me, and Anne, and marriage equality, and human rights, with my acceptance and respect for their own beliefs? I realize that religion, politics, and etiquette are tough topics to tackle on their own, and that they become infinitely entangled when we consider them together. But what do we do? How do we let our friends and families who have rejected us know that we are sad because of it? That we want them to make room for us in their hearts? That loving us and celebrating our love for each other will not make them any less faithful?

How have you handled a lack of support, the hollow silence, explicit rejection or other absences in your lives as you work towards a wedding and marriage, or other aspects of your life?

The truth about my engagement early on is this: it sucked. I should clarify. The actual engagement part, where Anne and I decided that we are going to get married, to each other, and stay together forever – that part was awesome. We got SO MUCH love from family and friends who heard our news. And that was really awesome, too. The part that sucked came after that. In mid-January, just weeks after our engagement, Anne fell head first into a serious, deep depression. And it kind of sucked the life out of us, and totally sucked the fun out of being engaged and planning a wedding.

Anne has an anxiety disorder, but it has been well controlled with a combination of medications, hard work, and occasional therapy booster sessions. Unfortunately, her mood took a hit for the first time ever this winter – whose didn’t, with those long, dark days filled with slushy boots and dirty floors? It was pretty mild back in December, and she seemed as happy as one would be right after we were engaged. She mentioned it to her doctor during a regular check-in, and they decided to switch up her medication, which she had been on for almost a decade. And then like someone flipped a switch and turned out all the lights inside of her, about 4 weeks after starting the medication, and about two weeks after getting engaged, Anne tanked. It seemed OK at first. We explained it away by talking about how stressful the engagement preparation had been (all those secrets!) and how we were overwhelmed figuring out how to plan things moving forward. But the tough days turned into sleepless nights, and those turned into lots of tears, and self-criticism, and hopelessness on her part. And oh my god did I feel scared and helpless. You see, I’m a psychologist. Like, for real. I thought I could handle this. I’ve worked with depressed people before. They get active, they do some CBT, they get better – easy peasy, right? Wrong. There is very little that is easy about depression, except how easily it starts to invade your spirit, your relationships, and your life.

I have never known less about what to do to help someone than when Anne, the person I love and who I am going to marry in September and who I am going to spend the rest of my life with, told me she couldn’t think of anything worth living for. I worked hard to hold it together as she fell apart. I faked enthusiasm when friends, coworkers, and family members excitedly asked me how wedding planning was going and told me this would be the most exciting time in my life. And I felt a little resentful. I didn’t think that we’d be facing the “for better or worse” part before we tied the knot. I wanted to be looking at pretty pictures of cakes, and picking out stationery, and practicing dancing to our favorite songs. I wanted her to be better, to be the person I fell in love with.  And even though I know better, I kept it in. For weeks, we struggled in silence. And finally, probably accidentally, I did something really hard for me to do. I asked for help – sort of. A coworker asked me what’s up and said I didn’t seem like myself, and I responded by crying.  Actually, I think I held my breath for a solid minute while I fought tears back, and then I burst. I gave her the short version, she hugged me, and I felt relief. I slowly started coming out about our struggle with friends and family. In some ways, it seemed harder to come out as “struggling with depression” than it was to come out with my sexuality. I feared stigma, negative reactions, and people wanting to keep their distance. But I handled it kind of like I handle coming out, one step at a time until it started to feel normal, until it felt like it was going to be OK and we were going to get through it.

One pretty tough hurdle in this coming out process was when I told my family about how Anne was doing, for real. They suggested we think about calling off the wedding. Later on, Anne’s family suggested the same thing. I know their intention was to take some of the pressure off while we focused on more important things, or to protect me. But it felt like they wanted me to walk away from marriage entirely. I started to see that those were my fears, not theirs. Every time someone asked me about the wedding, or it came time for us to send in a deposit, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach – was this going to happen? Was Anne going to make it? If she made it, would she feel up to a wedding? Would she still be in love with me when the fog cleared? What other life experiences and happiness would this depression steal from us in the future? Could I handle going through this again? Could we? I felt terrible even bringing it up, given how bad Anne had been feeling, but we talked about it ALL. Anne confessed she was afraid she’d ruin our wedding because she’d still be miserable all those months away. But at the same time, she could say without hesitation that we were going to be together forever. And that I was one of the things she is living for.

In the past few months, Anne has been working very hard, getting the help she needs and has started to perk up. Winter turned into Spring and as the sun came out we started to spend more time outside, taking walks, talking over dinners together. And I, either in a fit of denial or reckless optimism, have thrown myself back into wedding planning.  We have come to realize that in accepting each other fully and supporting each other no matter how difficult and overwhelming and soul-sucking the challenge, we have already committed to each other. And that is really something to celebrate this September.

**PS – Be sure to tune in next week, where I’ll talk more about how we’ve been working through things and getting the wedding show back on the road. In the mean time, let me know if you have any questions, thoughts, or suggestions! How have you managed a less-than-ideal engagement, or have you been blissfully in love the whole time???

I know it has been awhile since my last post. So long, in fact that I can’t even remember when I last posted – I know, the shame of it all. Hopefully, you all still remember me. For the newer readers, allow me to refresh a little.

Basically, I’m part of an black, quirky, somewhat femme-y, awesome couple that is going to be getting married in March of 2012. Now if marriage becomes legal in New York, that date will probably get pushed up a bit. What? Marriage? New York? Aren’t you in Atlanta? Well, I am until next week – that is. Afterward, my fiancee and I will be in the New York City (well, Brooklyn), starting our lives over and getting back to our wedding planning.

So, as you can imagine things have been hectic in our lives. As I’m typing, I am surrounded by lists of things to complete at my job, stuff that needs to be donated or sold (my car included) and things I need to wrap up at the office before I leave. Did I mention my last day is “tentatively” tomorrow and I’m knee-deep in Excel trying to fix a spreadsheet that someone mucked up. That is another story all together.

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We are now in the stage of planning where I need to start thinking about catering.

And I am terrified.

For reasons unknown to me, I cannot shake this strange fear of choosing a caterer and everything that comes along with it. Everything else about wedding plans has been fun in at least some way. But the thought of sitting down with a professional and breaking down our menu just does not appeal to me. The oddest part is that Rose and I both LOVE food. However, even when throwing parties at our place, my biggest stress is always what to feed people, how much to get, how long it will take to make, how to clean it up and if guests will enjoy it. I can turn into quite the frazzled hostess!

I hate going anywhere unprepared. I never travel to a new place without my trusty GPS and a printout of the directions and having looked at the exact location on Google Earth so I am completely ready for anything. I’m the type of girl that shows up to an interview with three unnecessary copies of my resume “just in case.” Yes I was a Girl Scout, and I just so happen to still live by that motto.

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