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{Confession} The Wedding is Winning.

I wrote once before about how hard it can be, Having a Wedding. I want to say this right up front: I’m 9 days away from my wedding, and it is completely womping me.

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That’s just it. That’s the word, the verb, the action, the connotation, for how my wedding and I are interacting. Have you ever babysat a toddler? And the whole night it screamed to be held and coddled and paid-attention-to? But then every so often, out of NOWHERE, it punched you in the face with its meaty little toddler-fist? … Like that. My wedding and I have a relationship like THAT.

And I think that’s pretty normal. In fact, I’d wager that there are women out there who have been married for months who, every now and then, have someone ask them about something completely unrelated to their wedding, but a verbal cue kicks up alllllllll that residual exhaustion. And suddenly their left eye has that pre-nuptial twitch again, and their urge to hurl flowers at innocent passers-by is almost as overwhelming as the urge to huddle beneath their desk, whimpering in frightened defeat.

My point– and I have one, I think– is that in the epic battle of Mallory vs. The Wedding, The Wedding is totally winning. I haven’t been this exhausted or anxiety-riddled or efficient since the last 48 hours before I submitted my thesis for its final review. I haven’t slept as little or coherently communicated about as much, literally, in years. My brain is a color-codes Filofax of dates, times, errands, to-do’s, to-make’s, to-avoid’s, timelines and deadlines. (I also just started my dream job, which has been amazing in more ways than I can describe, but it has me running point on project management for an entire TV Network digital media department.)

I’ve found that I can do one OR the other, but not My Wedding and My Job at the same time. And let’s not even talk about the barren, derelict wastelands of MoxieMissives and 11Eleven11, which haven’t been updated since 2010.

Which brings me to My Other Point: My wedding insists on touching EVERYTHING. Like the petulant toddler of the earlier anecdote, it has its little fingers in all my cookie jars. I can’t have a conversation with The Groom without The Wedding butting in. I can’t walk into my bedroom, or get into the car, or go inside the house without The Wedding popping up, confronting me with everything that has to get done.

And it’s not in an overwhelming way, which I found surprised me. I expected to feel completely hopeless and bogged down and like there was simply no way for both The Wedding and I to make it down the aisle in one piece. It’s not like that at all. We’re co-existing peacefully, juggling a million glass balls back and forth, The Wedding and I. But… Here’s the kicker. That juggling act is sucking the life out of me, and The Wedding never gets tired of it. As long as I don’t lose focus, we’re both OK. But there’s all this frustration right below the surface, waiting for the smallest of imbalances, biding its time for the debut of its fury as it watches the show.

It’s like constantly being reminded that there’s high-maintenance guest staying in your house, using all your towels and demanding all your conversation and making you feel bad if you devote any time to anything else while it’s in town.

And that, my dears, is how I’m holding it all together. I keep reminding myself that The End Is Near. Hallelujah. And I mean that. This wedding is going to be beautiful. It’s going to be the perfect culmination of creativity and love. And I know, in retrospect, I will look back on the day and decide that all the head-to-desk action I’m getting now was well worth my transformation from Miss Mallory into Mrs. TheGroom. But in the meantime, I’m pacing through my cluttered life, muttering to myself about how the day The Wedding packs its bags and hits the road CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH.

And isn’t that how we all feel when we’re babysitting a misbehaved toddler? Or hosting a guest who demands all our time? When we’re juggling as much as we can carry? When we’re working right AT capacity, teetering over the edge? We always pray silently to ourselves as we scope out the exit strategy, then look back and minimize it in our mind. “I had everything with Little Johnny under control,” you tell yourself and your friends, quickly glossing over the part where he lit your hair on fire.

The Wedding can have this round. Because in a week and a half, I’m going to rock this wedding’s world with all the love and laughter and perfection I cram into its limited lifespan. My wedding won’t even see me coming. I’m going to nail it from left field, and I’m bringing all my friends and family and the love of my life along for the ride. I am going to celebrate that day so hard that The Wedding won’t have a chance to resist. It’s just going to have to give me my way, go with the flow, concede to the awesome force that is a validated, empowered, well-loved woman sweeping in and victoriously reclaiming her life.

So The Wedding can win for now. This is just one battle, the neglected websites and forgotten blog posts and the missed deadlines. It’s just temporary, this exhaustion and the strained effort it takes to keep from letting small unravelings morph into irreparable breakdowns. The Wedding can viscously destroy my manicures and split my ends and plop huge bags under my eyes.

It can womp me all it wants.

Because next Friday, I’m riding in with my flag flying high, both guns blazing, and I am stomping my wedding into a deliriously happy, joyously jubilant, deliciously decadent pulp. I am going to wedding The Wedding out.

And when I emerge victorious, the wife of the most marvelous man I’ve ever met, I will look back on today, and this blog post, and I’ll smile with satisfaction.

Then I’ll go take a nap.

Because, ohmygod. I’ve earned it.

-MM.