Emotional Hangover

Wow. Five days married.
I'm trying to describe the last few months and suddenly the keyboard seems too small, the english language even seems ... insufficient. Language is insufficient.
The wedding, was just divine.
The weeks and days leading up to it were totally absurd.
The hours and moments now are like so surreal it just blows my danged mind.

Like the title says - I have an emotional hangover. We're putting together a website thingy where everyone can post pictures and look at everyone else's pictures... so if you know how to email me and want access to either upload or view, then let me know and I'll hook ya'z up. Sorry stalkers, no soup for you.

Anyway, the details of the wedding are beyond really capturing "perfectly" so I'll give you the highlights tour from my own experience and just hope for the best. After all, that's what you're here for, right?

Wedding morning, Main Squeeze and I ate breakfast together with everyone at the bed and breakfast and spent the morning/early afternoon bumbling around the small mountain downtown. Met up with my bestest buds from college for some laughs and then it was back to the B n' B for some serious wedding-ing. The main squeeze and I had been sharing a room *gasp* and so when it was time to get ready he had to collect his things and do so in his father's room. (we all stayed in the same house at a gorgeous bed and breakfast). Everyone I met as part of the wedding noted (at length) how calm and collected I was. For days and days folks told me how cool I seemed, how together, how smooth and unruffled...

Well, the moment the door closed behind him I Lost. My. Mind.

Calm little me turned into a hysterically sobbing, squishy and redfaced smear of a me. I sobbed and convulsed, alone, in my room, with the perfect afternoon looming ahead of me. I panicked and paced, and sobbed. I sat on the squashy bridal suite couch and my brain folded wetly into itself and just gave up. I sobbed and sobbed - and not a single fiber of my soul could resist - because not one single fiber of my soul could feel anything but utter and sheerest euphoria. I was happy. I was pure, unadulterated (*henh*) happy and the sensation washing over me weakened my knees and absolutely broke me. It terrified me. It pulled me to the core of the earth and hugged me and warmed me and all the birds of my heart just exploded into flight at once.

I was happy. It was real. This was real. My swollen red face and shivering shoulders proved it. My system was so overloaded with it all that there was nothing left but to sob. Alone. In my bridal suite.

Luckily, and probably within only a minute or two, friends were already knocking and arriving to prepare me for my big moment. Hugs, sweet sweet hugs, and more tears... and then Wine. Vino. Ahhh. Those ladies are brilliant, gentle reader... for as soon as I had a glass (or four) of wine in me my nerve returned and I soon steeled myself enough to snap out of it. For the most part. I was still wetly convulsive for most of the rest of the day - but the hysterics had passed. I even managed to scrape on a pretty little face of my own with makeup and everything! Some very precious friends of mine, all women, answered the ancient call of bridal-prep and did my hair (perfectly) and touched up my face (perfectly) and poured me into my dress (perfectly) and jabbed me down the stairs to my ceremony (perfectly). The daughter of a friend of mine helped me with my shoes. I was surrounded by ancient voices, older sentiments, and loving hands yeilding only perfection. No magical incantation can match that, gentle reader. None.

I suppose I have to break this thought off now, and write about the actual ceremony next time. But I have to tell you that I would not have made it down those stairs if it were not for the magic produced in that room in those precious moments. And the wine. But mostly for the friends and the women who surrounded me. Who made me perfect.

In a way that I have never ever been. In a way that I will always strive to be.

Thanks ladies.