I guess I’ve reached that point in the wedding planning process where my brain has become so over-saturated on wedding everything that it was time to let some of the flotsam out by way of a good old fashioned wedding nightmare. This weekend’s saga included:

• 30 or so wedding crashers (well-meaning celebrants all, but nonetheless an awkward result of a sudden ceremony venue change to an active church who announced the wedding in their community bulletin);
• us fast-forwarding 2 months so that, apparently, no other projects were completed and only about half of the ones we’ve finished were delivered to the venue;
• my dress not fitting–though at least it was too big and that was the easier problem to fix;
• and the sky turning pitch black at 2pm because a hurricane decided to take a right at the panhandle and pay us a visit.

All of which I direct a mental side-eye to my psyche for rolling all of that (and more!) into one bizarre dream.

Still, I remember being more confused and ‘eh, whatever’ about the events instead of waking up in a cold sweat or anything. Unlike the wedding nightmares I had almost 2 years ago before we’d even announced our plans to friends and family. Go figure.

Chances of any and all of that happening? Slim to none, obviously.

Of course, I never would have dreamed some nightmarish things that really did happen to me had much of a chance, either. Like being called an ungrateful little b!tch by my FMIL just hours before my wedding as I stood in her church fellowship hall simply for asking why the color scheme had changed. The church she insisted she’d be heartbroken if we didn’t get married in (when we’d wanted 50 people on the beach), and offered to take care of everything for us if we’d just *let her* have this one thing. Follow that up with an awkward apology after the ceremony and his promise that I’d never have to see her again (which lasted all of one week) and you have a pretty good picture of the nightmare that was my first wedding day. Or then there was the escalating anger issues my second husband exhibited that went only (thank goodness!) as far as the threat of violence (while he was screaming at me, 6 inches between our faces) before I “overreacted”–his words–and left him. Though, of course, it wasn’t quite so simple as even that sums it up to be.

Those nightmares took a bit more than some sunlight and a buzzing alarm clock to get away from.

I made bad decisions. I paid the consequences. Thank goodness they weren’t worse, but you can imagine how those sorts of things would sour a girl on the idea of marriage for herself. Would contribute to a jaded view of the institution itself and the conclusion that, as the common denominator, I was not cut out for marriage. And why it took a long time and the love of a patient man to change said opinions.

As for us, we Road Trips have weathered our own nightmares these last almost-six years, starting with a long distance relationship and including unemployment, depression, physical health issues, and the first house we rented together being foreclosed out from under us. Fun times (not). And, yet, through it all it was us against whatever, we made it through and were stronger because of it. There may have been tears at times, but for the most part we’ve laughed our way through the difficulties. Not to mention held on to our love for each other. There hasn’t been a moment I doubted his love for me and I feel certain Mr. Road Trip would say the same (though there have been times when I wasn’t sure I deserved it).

So while I still maintain that the details matter, and I still plan to do my damnedest to get all my planned projects complete (because crafting is fun and satisfying to my soul), should something get left behind or just not done, I have hope that it won’t be anything near nightmare-proportions.