It’s past 2 AM. I’m scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and I notice that my countdown application—flashing a picture of a picture of Andrew and I on our engagement day— says 37 days. It hits me. I’m getting married. I’m getting married in a little over a month, and all I can think of are the curtains and carpets we’re yet to buy and the honeymoon we haven’t booked as flight fares continue to rise. A reality I knew as distant, is now at my doorstep. Far from the crevices of my mind was the most vital element: a slack-jawed transition that would take me from living on my own, to living with a partner for the rest of my life. At first, I thought it was just nerves. Being the anxious person I am, I felt a festering guilt for feeling this way—I love my fiancé, and cannot wait to marry him, but the constant pressure is driving me insane. I didn’t think anyone else faced what I’m facing. Google said otherwise. As soon as I typed “fear before wedding” in the search bar, countless articles appeared about pre-wedding…
