Dress: LOFT (similar, similar); Sandals: Shopbop (similar, similar); Wristlet: Coach
A few months ago, I read a blogger's wedding recap and recall that one thing stuck out to me about her post: she mentioned that she experienced a post-wedding depression. I remember chuckling a bit about it. You mean you had a massive party, a fantastic vacation, and you're depressed because the party's over? A colleague also warned me: the post-wedding let-down is really difficult! She said she'd moped through her whole honeymoon. It seemed a bit frivolous, but I likened it to the feeling performers get after a show's run is through - that amped-up, adrenaline-fueled, joyful showtime ends and you're left void of that sort of high. However, I'd never experienced a show/performance letdown and didn't know what to expect (I was also so anxious about the wedding that I expected I'd be relieved).
Tonight, driving home from the grocery store, I started crying. A song started playing on the radio that reminded me of my family and the tears just started falling. Ben looked across at me and didn't say a word, just started running his hands through my hair. We leaned on each other when we parked the car and didn't have to say much. "I'm not ready to be back here" was (and is) the sentiment that has been running through us for the past two days.
It may seem really silly to be depressed about something so gratuitous as a wedding, but you'd be surprised at how difficult it is to recover from such a momentous occasion. The main thing that has had me weeping in the car on the road home is that we spent one week with the people we love most in the whole world - our parents, grandparents, siblings, best friends - and now we're back at home, all alone. Ben and I are pretty insular, happy-to-just-be-together people, but there is nothing like spending a full week with people expressing their love and joy at your union. We brought two families together. We introduced friends, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents. We started our future as a couple together. And during that entire process there were beautiful moments, many a tear, heartfelt confessions, speeches, songs sung, guitars played... all for us. The entire week was about our love.
It's hard to return to a quiet house after you've spent so long in the company of the people that truly unconditionally love you. We had family members that travelled across the entire U.S. to see us marry, just one 12 hour period of time that they were willing to spend large amounts (of time and money) to witness. We had best friends that proved (beyond what we already knew) to be such angels in our life - selflessly giving themselves, their talents, and their time to us.
As I sat quietly crying in the car, it struck me that, though my life is full and rich and happy, I won't experience my wedding again. I will have the fond memory of it for the rest of my life - but those short hours are all gone. My advice to any future bride is to seriously seriously seriously savor those hours. I didn't heed anyone's advice (too nervous!), but I should have sat with my joy and taken a few more mental snapshots of the day. It was truly the best day of my entire life and I cannot believe it's over.
A few months ago, I read a blogger's wedding recap and recall that one thing stuck out to me about her post: she mentioned that she experienced a post-wedding depression. I remember chuckling a bit about it. You mean you had a massive party, a fantastic vacation, and you're depressed because the party's over? A colleague also warned me: the post-wedding let-down is really difficult! She said she'd moped through her whole honeymoon. It seemed a bit frivolous, but I likened it to the feeling performers get after a show's run is through - that amped-up, adrenaline-fueled, joyful showtime ends and you're left void of that sort of high. However, I'd never experienced a show/performance letdown and didn't know what to expect (I was also so anxious about the wedding that I expected I'd be relieved).
Tonight, driving home from the grocery store, I started crying. A song started playing on the radio that reminded me of my family and the tears just started falling. Ben looked across at me and didn't say a word, just started running his hands through my hair. We leaned on each other when we parked the car and didn't have to say much. "I'm not ready to be back here" was (and is) the sentiment that has been running through us for the past two days.
It may seem really silly to be depressed about something so gratuitous as a wedding, but you'd be surprised at how difficult it is to recover from such a momentous occasion. The main thing that has had me weeping in the car on the road home is that we spent one week with the people we love most in the whole world - our parents, grandparents, siblings, best friends - and now we're back at home, all alone. Ben and I are pretty insular, happy-to-just-be-together people, but there is nothing like spending a full week with people expressing their love and joy at your union. We brought two families together. We introduced friends, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents. We started our future as a couple together. And during that entire process there were beautiful moments, many a tear, heartfelt confessions, speeches, songs sung, guitars played... all for us. The entire week was about our love.
It's hard to return to a quiet house after you've spent so long in the company of the people that truly unconditionally love you. We had family members that travelled across the entire U.S. to see us marry, just one 12 hour period of time that they were willing to spend large amounts (of time and money) to witness. We had best friends that proved (beyond what we already knew) to be such angels in our life - selflessly giving themselves, their talents, and their time to us.
As I sat quietly crying in the car, it struck me that, though my life is full and rich and happy, I won't experience my wedding again. I will have the fond memory of it for the rest of my life - but those short hours are all gone. My advice to any future bride is to seriously seriously seriously savor those hours. I didn't heed anyone's advice (too nervous!), but I should have sat with my joy and taken a few more mental snapshots of the day. It was truly the best day of my entire life and I cannot believe it's over.