Now that the wedding is over, I’m looking at all the stuff I’d labeled “To Deal With After the Wedding” and saying to myself, “Oh dear.” Turns out there’s a lot of crap in that pile.

Unfortunately, most of the items I put off do not fall in the category of easy practical things to do, i.e. folding a month’s worth of laundry and potting the poor bare-root lemon tree we got as a wedding gift quite a while ago.

No, I also mean emotional crap, which until this week has been kept at bay by the sheer enormity of Getting Married. There’s a huge amount going on under the surface, and so far its only manifestation is to make me extremely sensitive to things that would normally only slightly bother me. A graphic scene on TV or in the news, a comment from someone at work… the littlest things are setting me off into all-too-familiar downward spirals.

For example, during our preparations for the wedding, all I cared about (selfishly, I admit) was that my dad could make it to the wedding. I just wanted him to be there, period. And there he was, thank God, and he even got up to give us a brief, quiet blessing.

So my dreams came true, but now reality intrudes once more. It looks as though I’ll soon be taking responsibility for a much larger portion of my father’s care, which at the age of twenty-seven is a somewhat daunting prospect. Hell, at any age it’s daunting.

Even though the wedding was stressful, at least it was fun stress. I mean, having pumpkins with the table numbers carved in them was a last-minute decision, true, but not exactly a life or death matter. (They did turn out damn cool, though.) It’s been a rough return into the real non-wedding world, I have to say. I miss bridezilla…

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