The lack of blogging over the last couple of weeks does not mean that nothing has been happening. In fact, Wedding continues to gather steam, albeit in a lovely ethereal type way. The most elegant rolling boulder you have ever seen, Wedding doesn’t go about its business in a steam rolling type fashion, it leaves no path of destruction. Instead she glides, almost floating above the earth leaving only a trail of liquid nitrogen and fairy dust in its wake. The motion can be compared to one of those marble-sphere water features, purposeful and yet peaceful.
Yes, it all continues to go smoothly. But like any well run production, Wedding is not dissimilar to that good old analogy of the graceful swan gliding along the river, so graceful and effortless to its audience, but paddling along like crazy underneath the water. At this point, and depending on the day, Wedding occupies probably about 55 – 60% of my brain capacity. Maybe 70% at times. For those of you who don’t know me that well, that’s quite a lot. It is really quite entrenched in my day to day life. My record run of consecutive ‘Wedding free days’ is probably about 3. Max. At a stretch.
Sometimes, it’s a great excuse for an escape from the less than satisfying activities offered by the daily bill paying facility – work. I imagine there plenty of brides to be out there in the same boat. Productivity is at an all time low. Not particularly bothered with reports, strategies or spread sheets, but in a way, Wedding in itself is really a research project. Everyone knows how important research is. It’s crucial really. Without it, we’d have badly planned, expensive, ill informed, uncoordinated weddings taking place all over the country. My employer doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, they take comfort in the fact that Wedding is on the horizon, assuming that its mere existence will be enough to keep me anchored right where I am without too much excess ambition, and definitely no scope for just pulling the plug. They are of the opinion that I “won’t be going anywhere” simply because I have a wedding to pay for.
Wedding to them, is like a form of collateral. A security bond that will prevent me from suddenly seeking alternative employment. They seem all too aware of the power of Wedding, and have assumed (pretty accurately) that a bride-to-be will think of nothing else but her impending nuptials.
It sounds bad. But before you suggest that I need to go to ‘life rehab’ I must stress that it’s not an all-consuming process. It’s like the marble sphere, purposeful and peaceful. And it might just be a quick look on the internet, a moment of insane spontaneous online bonbonniere shopping (I literally went all the way through to the checkout page) or a brief wedding related conversation. It’s not like every day is filled with intensive wedding planning. The planning has just simply reached a very complicated and labour intensive stage. It’s time for dress shopping.
OMG, dress shopping. It’s like a rollercoaster of emotion. Mostly exciting with a peppering of hope and optimism, but balanced with feelings of disappointment, anxiety and fear. The search for ‘the dress’ that’s been years in the making in your imagination. My little wedding scrapbook which accompanies me to any wedding related appointment invites remarks such as “Oh, look an organised bride”, leaving me to question what the unorganised bride looks like and how many categories of bride there actually are. Anyway, ‘organised bride’ comes with a book that contains cut outs of gowns, cropped creations of tulle, beads and satin, flowers, cakes and miscellaneous.
But it never receives the attention it deserves. In my limited experience, the shop attendant does a quick initiation, sizing you up to the type of dress that they think that you want. Which is pretty hard when they’ve know you for 3 seconds.
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’ve tried on some amazing gorgeous dresses, and I’m sure if I was having 8, at least one would get a Guernsey. But I only get to choose one. It’s so shit. I’m not one of those people that have a definite and disciplined idea of things. I don’t have a favourite food – I like lots of food. Favourite movie? No. Don’t have a favourite. Colour? Well I like lots of colours. I can’t pick just one and call it my favourite. That wouldn’t be fair. In fact it would be impossible. I don’t have favourites. I like variety. And I like what I like. And I like it because I like it. I’m inherently ambivalent.
I dabbled in this kind of work back in my uni days. Women’s fashion. I know the qualifying questions that you’re supposed to ask, to get into someone’s psyche (a scary place in a world full of body dysmorphic disorders) to find out what they like about the item/dress/skirt etc but more importantly what they don’t like about it, so you can totter off and find them the perfect thing. It’s getting them to sell to themselves essentially with you only having to string a few buzz words together in any combination like ‘amazing’, ‘shape’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘tiny’, ‘stunning’, ‘length’, ‘proportion’ so on and so forth.
And so I stand, sometimes on a box, in front of a big mirror in a variety of gowns in varying shades of white and ivory, and stare blankly back at myself, and when we exceed the allowed time of awkward silence, I’m interrogated as to what I don’t like about it.
More awkward silence and blank stares ensue. I don’t dislike it. It’s just not my dress. Not much you can do about that. No amount of buzz words will change it.
“It’s lovely; I like it more than the last one I tried?” But that doesn’t mean I’m going to shell out thousands of dollars for something ‘nice’ that I could wear, if I was having 8 other wedding dresses. But even then, I might not. I’m really not good at this constructive feedback game. Because I know in my heart of hearts, that despite their best efforts and the exhaustive and repetitive process of squeezing in and out of layers of silk, lace, taffeta, and tulle, they just don’t have ‘my dress’.
You’re meant to get ‘that’ feeling, the one of knowing that it’s your dress. And that’s what all the brides say. But when you don’t get it, you start to question whether you ever will. So you go home, put yourself back together with some wine glue and start again, plan the next appointment, and get stupidly excited all over again. It's such an amazing, fun experience with a side of heartbreak. It's like going out for the most delicious, extravagant, expensive dinner and then walking out of the restaurant starving hungry, with an empty feeling and then you have to go to Macca's on the way home. A bittersweet symphony.
Bridesmaid’s dresses on the other hand has been a completely different story. A result of persistent research, searching for something which was a vague idea in my head, proved so so fruitful when one day just prior to wedding hour (lunch), I stumbled across the most stunning, perfect things that so honestly reflected everything I had been imagining and looking for without being able to verbalise.
The hardest thing about the BMD’s is coordinating times with a long distance MOH for a first try on, and the fact that they cost just slightly more than her own wedding dress (which we have since established will not be involved in any future benchmarking process due to a set of unique and uncanny circumstances!).
Other than that, it’s a win. Well a point on the board anyway. We still have to decide on the actual style, the embellishments and the colour. But what could be so hard about that? I’ll just pick my ‘favourite’ colour right? Uh oh.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The Blinker Effect
Nothing major to report this week on the wedding front. Or perhaps wedding is now so entrenched in my day to day that nothing really seems ‘interesting’ or newsworthy anymore. I actually opened up a new blog post a couple of days ago ready to go with an update. As I sat at my computer, the usually frenzied keyboard attack was not forthcoming, nothing had bubbled to the surface during the course of wedding related events in the last couple of weeks. Oh my. Could it be? I’m organizing the shit out of this wedding. And I’m doing it in a very relaxed, stealth like manner.
Even Fiancé followed up last night… “You haven’t done a blog this week.” Perhaps I’m internalizing. I guess we’ll find out. Or maybe I’m just coming to terms with the task at hand, and feeling quite comfortable with where we are at with it all, with most of the major things taken care of.
I’ve taken quite a ruthless, systematic approach to organizing wedding. I made a list, developed a budget, lobbied for funding, and then went about sourcing potential suppliers, with much success. It’s like a domino effect. Once you get started by locking in the venue, the rest flows from there. One by one, things get knocked over, ticked off the list.
For the most part, I’ve really just locked things in, paid the deposits and then moved on, there really is still a few details that may need working out. But I’m banking on it all coming together when the universe deems it a relevant time. There is a natural order of things.
In the last week I have found some potential bridesmaid dresses. This was a fairly big milestone for me having had something in my head but having no idea where I would find it. I shouldn’t have been concerned. Facebook showed me the way. I spent one whole day breathless with excitement and anticipation. I was chomping at the bit to get down to the stockist and whack 3 x dresses on hold immediately. That’s what I do. Make a decision, and act on it. Without a whole lot of consideration or rational thought. That whole concept of ‘sleeping on it’ is a foreign one to me, I much prefer spontaneous, immediate decision making. Let’s just say I trust my instincts. And life’s too short. And whatever other cliché you can think of to support my argument.
If MOH didn’t live 2 hours away, I dare say we’d have another thing on its way to being ticked off the list by now. It’s more than likely a blessing in disguise. Having to schedule appointments and lock in times with everyone forces me to have some time away from it and to “sleep on it” I guess. In fact, I’ve now slept on it for 3 nights. And I’m feeling slightly more calm about the situation. But I still want those dresses. Now.
Oh and I now also have a hair stylist. I based this decision on (another) recommendation, and the fact that she had a website. I felt that this gave her an edge over others I had contacted and allowed me to scrutinize her skills by looking at a huge range of images. Basically, I have a fervent appreciation of people who exhibit sharp business acumen, foresight and organization. She deserves my business.
But I do believe there is such a thing as being too organized! And there is a downside. That is that you live in fear of seeing something better and more perfect than what you already have. Even if you stop looking, being in the wedding realm, you are bound to be exposed to these things. Is there such a thing as wedding blinkers? Like horses wear when they are racing so the other horses don’t make them angry or put them off their game?
Many racehorse trainers believe that blinkers keep the horse focused on what is in front of him or her, encouraging him/her to pay attention to the race rather than other distractions, such as crowds. Or other wedding/bridesmaid dresses/flowers/hair stylists.
Yes, I’m definitely going to need some blinkers.
Especially when it comes to the wedding dress. I’m reluctant to fall in love with anything too early for this very reason. The blinker effect. I won’t, however, be leaving it to the very last minute! I heard of a bride this week who has just found her perfect gown, with 11 days to go until her big day. 11. Days. God, there’s that breathless, anxious feeling again, OMG I’m stressed FOR her!
I will not be faced with this scenario. I’ve already identified about 8 dresses that I have developed feelings for. Without even trying them on. Oh god. How am I going to pick JUST ONE?? Perhaps, we should’ve considered an Eastern style wedding where celebrations extend over 8 days. Then I could have 8 dresses.
So the approach to wedding dress is a matter of carefully considered timing. I need to take a measured, considered approach that leaves enough time for dress to be made if need be, and time for ample fittings – to keep up with the ‘shedding for the wedding’ activities – without creeping into the danger zone.
So the wedding ball rolls on, gathering momentum in a calm, collected and ladylike manner.
Even Fiancé followed up last night… “You haven’t done a blog this week.” Perhaps I’m internalizing. I guess we’ll find out. Or maybe I’m just coming to terms with the task at hand, and feeling quite comfortable with where we are at with it all, with most of the major things taken care of.
I’ve taken quite a ruthless, systematic approach to organizing wedding. I made a list, developed a budget, lobbied for funding, and then went about sourcing potential suppliers, with much success. It’s like a domino effect. Once you get started by locking in the venue, the rest flows from there. One by one, things get knocked over, ticked off the list.
For the most part, I’ve really just locked things in, paid the deposits and then moved on, there really is still a few details that may need working out. But I’m banking on it all coming together when the universe deems it a relevant time. There is a natural order of things.
In the last week I have found some potential bridesmaid dresses. This was a fairly big milestone for me having had something in my head but having no idea where I would find it. I shouldn’t have been concerned. Facebook showed me the way. I spent one whole day breathless with excitement and anticipation. I was chomping at the bit to get down to the stockist and whack 3 x dresses on hold immediately. That’s what I do. Make a decision, and act on it. Without a whole lot of consideration or rational thought. That whole concept of ‘sleeping on it’ is a foreign one to me, I much prefer spontaneous, immediate decision making. Let’s just say I trust my instincts. And life’s too short. And whatever other cliché you can think of to support my argument.
If MOH didn’t live 2 hours away, I dare say we’d have another thing on its way to being ticked off the list by now. It’s more than likely a blessing in disguise. Having to schedule appointments and lock in times with everyone forces me to have some time away from it and to “sleep on it” I guess. In fact, I’ve now slept on it for 3 nights. And I’m feeling slightly more calm about the situation. But I still want those dresses. Now.
Oh and I now also have a hair stylist. I based this decision on (another) recommendation, and the fact that she had a website. I felt that this gave her an edge over others I had contacted and allowed me to scrutinize her skills by looking at a huge range of images. Basically, I have a fervent appreciation of people who exhibit sharp business acumen, foresight and organization. She deserves my business.
But I do believe there is such a thing as being too organized! And there is a downside. That is that you live in fear of seeing something better and more perfect than what you already have. Even if you stop looking, being in the wedding realm, you are bound to be exposed to these things. Is there such a thing as wedding blinkers? Like horses wear when they are racing so the other horses don’t make them angry or put them off their game?
Many racehorse trainers believe that blinkers keep the horse focused on what is in front of him or her, encouraging him/her to pay attention to the race rather than other distractions, such as crowds. Or other wedding/bridesmaid dresses/flowers/hair stylists.
Yes, I’m definitely going to need some blinkers.
Especially when it comes to the wedding dress. I’m reluctant to fall in love with anything too early for this very reason. The blinker effect. I won’t, however, be leaving it to the very last minute! I heard of a bride this week who has just found her perfect gown, with 11 days to go until her big day. 11. Days. God, there’s that breathless, anxious feeling again, OMG I’m stressed FOR her!
I will not be faced with this scenario. I’ve already identified about 8 dresses that I have developed feelings for. Without even trying them on. Oh god. How am I going to pick JUST ONE?? Perhaps, we should’ve considered an Eastern style wedding where celebrations extend over 8 days. Then I could have 8 dresses.
So the approach to wedding dress is a matter of carefully considered timing. I need to take a measured, considered approach that leaves enough time for dress to be made if need be, and time for ample fittings – to keep up with the ‘shedding for the wedding’ activities – without creeping into the danger zone.
So the wedding ball rolls on, gathering momentum in a calm, collected and ladylike manner.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Ceeeeleebrant good times! Come On!
As the clock runs down from the 1 year mark, I have felt a shift in my planning from the light hearted, fun stuff to the down to business, serious end of the spectrum. Of course it’s still a relatively long time to go to the everyday human being on the street. 1 year. Plenty of time to get organised one would think. But it’s not long in Wedding Time. To put it into simple terms, a 24 hour day for the normal, everyday, non-bride-to-be would equate to approximately 3 days in Wedding time. They just go faster when you are going through something like this. Therefore, I now have less than 121 actual ‘Wedding Time’ days left before the ‘BIG’ day.
One of the reasons that we choose our date, was to allow enough time to organise the wedding WITHOUT having to stress or be stuck with a less than impressive list of suppliers/venues etc. Granted, the planning still takes up a large chunk of my psyche on the daily but our (my) decisions are considered and well informed. I know that a lot of people have organized their own wedding in ridiculously short amounts of time, I don’t know why you would choose to rush it unless you were:
a) Pregnant
b) Close to having a Visa expire
c) Hoping to trap someone into a loveless marriage before they realized you were a complete psychopath.
But I digress. There has definitely been a shift in my approach to the planning at this point. It’s no longer a case of having plenty of time, it’s starting to get a little more serious than that.
I think the turning point was finally deciding on a celebrant. This has been an interesting one. For Fiance and I, it was really simply a matter of necessity and nothing more. We hadn’t really placed a lot of importance on the role of this person. For followers of Wedding though, it has been a pertinent point of interest. I remember it being raised by MOB when the idea of Wedding was only in its infancy. She had been speaking with my Nan about it. ?. It is now even, perhaps, in the lower echelons of FAWQ (frequently asked wedding questions). Which was, initially, hard for me to understand.
The intentions of interested parties, however, seems absolutely justified now that I have begun to dig a little deeper into the realms of Celebrantcy. It’s one of those subjects, where you only ever seem to hear the horror stories, only one of which I’ve actually witnessed.
Apparently the Celebrant at an Aunts wedding, had such a thick Scottish accent that no one could understand a word he was saying. Perhaps they should’ve all had a few drinks before the ceremony as, in my experience, the more intoxicated you are, the easier it is to understand the Scots.
At MOH’s wedding, there was a case of the old vow switcheroo, not that anyone would have known any different had it not been rectified by the Groom, but certainly not ideal for the happy couple!
I’ve heard stories of celebrants and even their Catholic counterparts forgetting the names of the bride and/or groom, using the ceremony to push their own agendas (religious or not), telling bad jokes and just generally being awkward and weird.
So, unless you actually happen to know someone who is legally entitled to officiate over a wedding and sign off on all the paper work, how do you choose? And why does it matter?
Our (my) initial thoughts were that it didn’t really matter at all. As long as they could speak that should be fine and I’d also prefer someone who didn’t resemble a troll so as not to ruin any wedding photos. After all, all they have to do is say “Hey, what’s up ya’ll? So you want to get married? That’s cool. Do you both want to get married? Awesome. Alright then, you’re married. Just sign here and here and off you go. Have fun kids.” Right? Then we can all go and have a drink, a bit to eat and a dance. Apparently, that’s not how it’s done.
My initial searches proved fruitless. The problem with these celebrant people, is that they all still appear to have real lives of their own. Which means that your wedding will have to fit in with things like family holidays, the unexpected success of other commercial business ventures, overseas trips etc. Being a celebrant is obviously more of a part time income supplement, rather than a full time career, making it difficult to find one that isn’t shit, that doesn’t have something better to do.
As with most of our (my) decisions thus far, this one was also based on referral. And it seems to be working out jolly good so far. Good people like working with good people, and since these people see hundreds of weddings each year, they are certainly more qualified than me to say who is proficient in their chosen part-time field, and who is not. So, on recommendation from our amazing DJ, who was referred from our amazing venue, I contacted Carla, a local Dunsborough celebrant. Although we are yet to meet face to face, it’s so far so good!
It wasn’t until Carla sent through some Ceremony and reading samples, that my attitude towards the whole thing shifted ever so slightly. During wedding hour (lunch) at work I began to read through the extensive materials she had emailed across.
Some of it was nothing out of the ordinary, the usual traditional stuff that you always hear at weddings, usually in the movies. I continued to read. Reading, reading, reading, sniffle, reading, tear, reading. OMG, this is good shit. Something hit me. It was the story of fiancé and I. Right there on the computer screen in front of me. “OMG, that’s it!” Such simple, beautiful words. And suddenly it all becomes a little bit more real and grown up. Less about getting a nice, shiny new ring and more about what it signifies.
It’s so easy to get lost in Wedding time, to get caught up in flowers and bonbonierres, that it’s just so refreshing to be smacked across the face with a big fat reminder of why you’re actually doing it all in the first place.
And so with that, without giving too much away (especially to my fellow brides to be), I’ll leave you with these words:
“One of the beautiful things about marriage is that whilst two lives unite to become one, you do not lose yourself in the other, you find yourself.”
Tear. Sniffle. Tear.
One of the reasons that we choose our date, was to allow enough time to organise the wedding WITHOUT having to stress or be stuck with a less than impressive list of suppliers/venues etc. Granted, the planning still takes up a large chunk of my psyche on the daily but our (my) decisions are considered and well informed. I know that a lot of people have organized their own wedding in ridiculously short amounts of time, I don’t know why you would choose to rush it unless you were:
a) Pregnant
b) Close to having a Visa expire
c) Hoping to trap someone into a loveless marriage before they realized you were a complete psychopath.
But I digress. There has definitely been a shift in my approach to the planning at this point. It’s no longer a case of having plenty of time, it’s starting to get a little more serious than that.
I think the turning point was finally deciding on a celebrant. This has been an interesting one. For Fiance and I, it was really simply a matter of necessity and nothing more. We hadn’t really placed a lot of importance on the role of this person. For followers of Wedding though, it has been a pertinent point of interest. I remember it being raised by MOB when the idea of Wedding was only in its infancy. She had been speaking with my Nan about it. ?. It is now even, perhaps, in the lower echelons of FAWQ (frequently asked wedding questions). Which was, initially, hard for me to understand.
image courtesy of Blakeney Photography via www.mrbg.com.au
The intentions of interested parties, however, seems absolutely justified now that I have begun to dig a little deeper into the realms of Celebrantcy. It’s one of those subjects, where you only ever seem to hear the horror stories, only one of which I’ve actually witnessed.
Apparently the Celebrant at an Aunts wedding, had such a thick Scottish accent that no one could understand a word he was saying. Perhaps they should’ve all had a few drinks before the ceremony as, in my experience, the more intoxicated you are, the easier it is to understand the Scots.
At MOH’s wedding, there was a case of the old vow switcheroo, not that anyone would have known any different had it not been rectified by the Groom, but certainly not ideal for the happy couple!
I’ve heard stories of celebrants and even their Catholic counterparts forgetting the names of the bride and/or groom, using the ceremony to push their own agendas (religious or not), telling bad jokes and just generally being awkward and weird.
So, unless you actually happen to know someone who is legally entitled to officiate over a wedding and sign off on all the paper work, how do you choose? And why does it matter?
Our (my) initial thoughts were that it didn’t really matter at all. As long as they could speak that should be fine and I’d also prefer someone who didn’t resemble a troll so as not to ruin any wedding photos. After all, all they have to do is say “Hey, what’s up ya’ll? So you want to get married? That’s cool. Do you both want to get married? Awesome. Alright then, you’re married. Just sign here and here and off you go. Have fun kids.” Right? Then we can all go and have a drink, a bit to eat and a dance. Apparently, that’s not how it’s done.
My initial searches proved fruitless. The problem with these celebrant people, is that they all still appear to have real lives of their own. Which means that your wedding will have to fit in with things like family holidays, the unexpected success of other commercial business ventures, overseas trips etc. Being a celebrant is obviously more of a part time income supplement, rather than a full time career, making it difficult to find one that isn’t shit, that doesn’t have something better to do.
As with most of our (my) decisions thus far, this one was also based on referral. And it seems to be working out jolly good so far. Good people like working with good people, and since these people see hundreds of weddings each year, they are certainly more qualified than me to say who is proficient in their chosen part-time field, and who is not. So, on recommendation from our amazing DJ, who was referred from our amazing venue, I contacted Carla, a local Dunsborough celebrant. Although we are yet to meet face to face, it’s so far so good!
It wasn’t until Carla sent through some Ceremony and reading samples, that my attitude towards the whole thing shifted ever so slightly. During wedding hour (lunch) at work I began to read through the extensive materials she had emailed across.
Some of it was nothing out of the ordinary, the usual traditional stuff that you always hear at weddings, usually in the movies. I continued to read. Reading, reading, reading, sniffle, reading, tear, reading. OMG, this is good shit. Something hit me. It was the story of fiancé and I. Right there on the computer screen in front of me. “OMG, that’s it!” Such simple, beautiful words. And suddenly it all becomes a little bit more real and grown up. Less about getting a nice, shiny new ring and more about what it signifies.
It’s so easy to get lost in Wedding time, to get caught up in flowers and bonbonierres, that it’s just so refreshing to be smacked across the face with a big fat reminder of why you’re actually doing it all in the first place.
And so with that, without giving too much away (especially to my fellow brides to be), I’ll leave you with these words:
“One of the beautiful things about marriage is that whilst two lives unite to become one, you do not lose yourself in the other, you find yourself.”
Tear. Sniffle. Tear.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
It's business time - Dunno Part II
We love Dunsborough. So much so that every time we visit, we spend a great deal of time discussing when and how we can move there. This time I have decided I will become a full time writer. I’ll wake up early, walk the dogs along the beach, have an organically grown and locally sourced breakfast of berries and free range eggs, then I’ll head out to the balcony where I will spend the day ‘working’, overlooking the ocean. After a mid-morning nap.
Alternatively, we’ll open a wine bar/coffee shop that appeals to a gentrified crowd, sick of the young hooligans that now seem to have overrun similar ventures in town. Dean from Busso will not frequent our establishment. Preferring instead to loiter in and around the more ordinary watering holes where he feels completely at ease soliciting unsuspecting Perthites and other weekenders for money “for a set of boobs for this chick I have known for like 10 years. Well you know, I promised that I’d buy her a set of tits, so every time we head out, I ask people to help.” He explains, thrusting a middy glass containing a few measly bucks under our noses. We stared back at him in disbelief. I wanted to tell Dean that me and my friends didn’t speak bogan, or reveal to him that a good way to raise money was to get a friggin job, however being on unfamiliar turf, we chose instead to give him some loose change, hoping that he would be satisfied and scamper away, leaving us to pick up our jaws from the sodden carpet and pretend that never happened. But it just seemed to encourage him. What is that? When people have no comprehension of the fact that their presence is not required or desired? Dean went on to hassle our friends about why they were not yet engaged. The wench with the small tits piped up “OMG, I sell diamonds! I’ll do you a deal. I work at Garden City, come see me.” What? So you do have a job? Good on you for that. Obviously you don’t sell enough diamonds to buy yourself a pair of tits though.
These seem like the kind of people that might want to try and crash our wedding after party at castle rock car park with our DJ mate.
Anyway, if the wine bar thing didn’t work out, I’m sure we could find something else to do in town. There already appears to be a sufficient number of surf shops and clothing boutiques, bakeries and coffee shops. Our neighbours out at Dunsborough Lakes already had the mobile rock climbing wall business covered, so that was out.
After a particularly interesting cultural exchange whilst dining at Wise the previous day, when our French waiter served Fiance an interesting looking dessert plated in such a way, that the kitchen had described simply as ‘Viking Pussy’ and suggested that Frenchie use this expression when presenting the food. “My English is not so known but the kitchen people tell me that you might try this before. It is how you say – Viking Pussy? So I hope you enjoy.” He later was told what he had just said and spent the rest of the afternoon apologising profusely. “I’m sorry. Thank you for apologising me,” He said. Sooo, Fiance suggested that perhaps I could simply return to my university days and become a waitress. I could after all speak and understand English, which doesn’t appear to be a mandatory requirement in the industry but it can’t hurt.
Event coordinator? Wedding planner? A liaison for engaged Perthies getting married down south. Wedding celebrants seem to be pretty popular down here – how hard could that be? Yoga instructor? But my favourite is to become an artist and find a place on the Yallingup hills and wile my days away painting sunsets and writing screen plays. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem that i have no talent in either of those areas.
I guess it happens when you go on holidays. And that’s why we go. To escape to somewhere amazing that has the power to make you want to uproot your entire life and relocate there immediately. It’s a powerful thing.
One of the big pluses about Dunsborough for us, is the picturesque beaches, especially the one that, when the tide goes out, exposes the shallow sand bank and the many little ‘islands’ that can be walked out to. Especially handy when you have two crazy, overly sociable Staffys. Ingenious of us to walk them out there through calf deep water and then let them loose, water locked, so they couldn’t run away.
They loved it, frolicking through the shallow water, chasing the seagulls, forgetting the water and finding themselves in way too deep, sploosh! Jackson stopped every now and then to pluck a starfish from the shallow water or chew on a piece of seaweed. Until he spotted another dog on the beach that he thought he might like to say hello to. He stopped. He looked at the dog, then looked back at us, a plan formulating in his little pea sized brain. Pity he was surrounded by deep blue water. He looked at us again, then went for it. Swimming for his life, his stumpy little Staffy legs doggy paddling like they’d never doggy paddled before. Fiance sprang into Staffy rescue mode as little Jackson became less and less buoyant by the second. We’ll never know if he would’ve made it to shore or not, I think it would have been a miracle.
So, although it wasn’t an overly productive trip wedding plan wise, it re-established for us why we love the place so much and why we couldn't find a more awesome place to get married. It’s not hard to figure out why everyone who lives there is ridiculously happy and friendly. Figuring out how we can become a permanent part of the scenery is slightly more difficult!
Alternatively, we’ll open a wine bar/coffee shop that appeals to a gentrified crowd, sick of the young hooligans that now seem to have overrun similar ventures in town. Dean from Busso will not frequent our establishment. Preferring instead to loiter in and around the more ordinary watering holes where he feels completely at ease soliciting unsuspecting Perthites and other weekenders for money “for a set of boobs for this chick I have known for like 10 years. Well you know, I promised that I’d buy her a set of tits, so every time we head out, I ask people to help.” He explains, thrusting a middy glass containing a few measly bucks under our noses. We stared back at him in disbelief. I wanted to tell Dean that me and my friends didn’t speak bogan, or reveal to him that a good way to raise money was to get a friggin job, however being on unfamiliar turf, we chose instead to give him some loose change, hoping that he would be satisfied and scamper away, leaving us to pick up our jaws from the sodden carpet and pretend that never happened. But it just seemed to encourage him. What is that? When people have no comprehension of the fact that their presence is not required or desired? Dean went on to hassle our friends about why they were not yet engaged. The wench with the small tits piped up “OMG, I sell diamonds! I’ll do you a deal. I work at Garden City, come see me.” What? So you do have a job? Good on you for that. Obviously you don’t sell enough diamonds to buy yourself a pair of tits though.
These seem like the kind of people that might want to try and crash our wedding after party at castle rock car park with our DJ mate.
Anyway, if the wine bar thing didn’t work out, I’m sure we could find something else to do in town. There already appears to be a sufficient number of surf shops and clothing boutiques, bakeries and coffee shops. Our neighbours out at Dunsborough Lakes already had the mobile rock climbing wall business covered, so that was out.
After a particularly interesting cultural exchange whilst dining at Wise the previous day, when our French waiter served Fiance an interesting looking dessert plated in such a way, that the kitchen had described simply as ‘Viking Pussy’ and suggested that Frenchie use this expression when presenting the food. “My English is not so known but the kitchen people tell me that you might try this before. It is how you say – Viking Pussy? So I hope you enjoy.” He later was told what he had just said and spent the rest of the afternoon apologising profusely. “I’m sorry. Thank you for apologising me,” He said. Sooo, Fiance suggested that perhaps I could simply return to my university days and become a waitress. I could after all speak and understand English, which doesn’t appear to be a mandatory requirement in the industry but it can’t hurt.
Event coordinator? Wedding planner? A liaison for engaged Perthies getting married down south. Wedding celebrants seem to be pretty popular down here – how hard could that be? Yoga instructor? But my favourite is to become an artist and find a place on the Yallingup hills and wile my days away painting sunsets and writing screen plays. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem that i have no talent in either of those areas.
I guess it happens when you go on holidays. And that’s why we go. To escape to somewhere amazing that has the power to make you want to uproot your entire life and relocate there immediately. It’s a powerful thing.
One of the big pluses about Dunsborough for us, is the picturesque beaches, especially the one that, when the tide goes out, exposes the shallow sand bank and the many little ‘islands’ that can be walked out to. Especially handy when you have two crazy, overly sociable Staffys. Ingenious of us to walk them out there through calf deep water and then let them loose, water locked, so they couldn’t run away.
They loved it, frolicking through the shallow water, chasing the seagulls, forgetting the water and finding themselves in way too deep, sploosh! Jackson stopped every now and then to pluck a starfish from the shallow water or chew on a piece of seaweed. Until he spotted another dog on the beach that he thought he might like to say hello to. He stopped. He looked at the dog, then looked back at us, a plan formulating in his little pea sized brain. Pity he was surrounded by deep blue water. He looked at us again, then went for it. Swimming for his life, his stumpy little Staffy legs doggy paddling like they’d never doggy paddled before. Fiance sprang into Staffy rescue mode as little Jackson became less and less buoyant by the second. We’ll never know if he would’ve made it to shore or not, I think it would have been a miracle.
So, although it wasn’t an overly productive trip wedding plan wise, it re-established for us why we love the place so much and why we couldn't find a more awesome place to get married. It’s not hard to figure out why everyone who lives there is ridiculously happy and friendly. Figuring out how we can become a permanent part of the scenery is slightly more difficult!
Monday, October 31, 2011
8806 hours to go – Dunno Part I
Having just returned from a long weekend away in Dunsborough, where we will be married in approximately 8806 hours, all manner of emotions have begun to take over. At the moment, it’s mostly genuine excitement coupled with an acute awareness at how fast 8806 hours will disappear. It’s really not a long time when you break it down like that, but it’s a hell of a lot longer than the event itself – and that’s what this blog is all about. Acknowledging the journey that we are on, and appreciating that it’s so much more than the 8 hours or so in which all this work, planning and insanity will finally culminate. THE. BIG. DAY.
So, after lamenting the loss of Engagey and enjoying a short intermission in Wedding proceedings for a couple of weeks, I dragged out the awe inspiring pile of Wedding magazines gifted to me from MOH very early on in our engagement and packed them into the car, along with our two furry children and a milk crate full of booze, a sample size of Engagey’s most rewarding legacy.
We were Dunno bound. Not really with any major wedding planning activities in the pipeline, but for a short visit to recharge our batteries and to get the vibe of what the town and the region will be like for our impending nuptials. Frickin busy if this weekend was anything to go by. Better get those save the dates out sooner rather than later.
I had previously tried to make appointments with some suppliers that are already on the team, due to the busy time of year, I was only able to meet with one. The DJ. And he didn’t disappoint. I suggested we catch up for a cold beverage or two just to break the ice, put a name to a face and have a more in depth conversation about what we wanted and what he could provide. We decided to meet at his place just between Dunno and Yalls (Yallingup.) The directions I was given were reminiscent of a wild goose chase/ treasure hunt and Fiance and I were filled with both intrigue and intrepidation at meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Follow the yellow brick road and take the 2nd turn on the right after the gravel road starts, look for the rainbow valley sign on the fence then keep driving past the house of terrors until you see the white guitar on the fence, then follow it down to the surfboard cut in half that directs you to my studio. Fiance and I shared a nervous giggle, thankful that we had brought a 4wd vehicle for this little adventure.
The DJ greeted us warmly and welcomed us into his studio – a bush shack/shed surrounded by trees and only 7kms from the beach converted into his own little creative space. We entered through the kitchen and he led us into a room filled with intruments and all his gear. He also had a special little semi sound proof room for his drums, cos “I’m a drummer – that’s what I do”. I literally tripped and stumbled over my words, as well as a set of bongo drums, taken aback by the amount of fun I could have in that room and clearly struggling to hold myself back from having my own impromptu jam session. Step away from the instruments. Fiance, knowing me and my penchant for creating magical entertainment all too well, instantly sensed my inherent desire to kidnap DJ, lock him in a cupboard and take over his studio for two or three days.
We spent the next half hour or so talking about options for our wedding, one of which included the offer of an after party in a nearby beach car park, at which DJ would bring along his ‘DJ mobile’ pop the roof and spin the decks well into the morning, suggesting that we could then walk back to town if we weren’t “too messy” or do a deal with the dunno taxi service and have people shuttled back to town intermittently as sunrise approached. We would just have to let him know a few hours beforehand so he could arrange some of his “crew” to get down there with generators and the like. “We’ll let you know…” Fiance and I responded, not wanting to upset the very musical, slightly eccentric apple cart.
He also suggested keeping the eating and other wedding formalities to a minimum in order to maximise time for dancing, everyone wedding supplier has their own little agenda to push don’t they! Hey, who knows – we might just turn the entire wedding into a dance party yet!
We lunched on the balcony at Wise Winery the following day, soaking up those famous views across to Geographe Bay and also the goings on on the lawn below as someone elses wedding was in the initial stages of set up. We wandered down after lunch to check it out a little closer and talk logistics. In doing so we were greeted by a man, resting on a speaker. “Are you thinking of getting married here?” he asked, beads of sweat forming on his brow seemingly from recent physical exertion, although I could only count one speaker having been set up. “We ARE getting married here”, I responded. “OK, cool…do you need a DJ?”, ah I see. “No, we already have a DJ, why? Are you a DJ?” “Yes, I’m DJ Damon. Who are you having?” We told him. “Wow, he is like the best DJ in the region.” “Wow, that’s a nice thing for you to say of one of your competitors!” “Yeah he is like a real DJ. He’s awesome.” We went on to recount the story of our recent visit to the studio. “Wow, really? You went to his studio?!” We clearly didn’t realise the preceding reputation of DJ before our visit but we are now very confident that we have selected a quality addition to team Wedding, and he is sure to be a hit…if he can keep me away from his percussion.
So, after lamenting the loss of Engagey and enjoying a short intermission in Wedding proceedings for a couple of weeks, I dragged out the awe inspiring pile of Wedding magazines gifted to me from MOH very early on in our engagement and packed them into the car, along with our two furry children and a milk crate full of booze, a sample size of Engagey’s most rewarding legacy.
We were Dunno bound. Not really with any major wedding planning activities in the pipeline, but for a short visit to recharge our batteries and to get the vibe of what the town and the region will be like for our impending nuptials. Frickin busy if this weekend was anything to go by. Better get those save the dates out sooner rather than later.
I had previously tried to make appointments with some suppliers that are already on the team, due to the busy time of year, I was only able to meet with one. The DJ. And he didn’t disappoint. I suggested we catch up for a cold beverage or two just to break the ice, put a name to a face and have a more in depth conversation about what we wanted and what he could provide. We decided to meet at his place just between Dunno and Yalls (Yallingup.) The directions I was given were reminiscent of a wild goose chase/ treasure hunt and Fiance and I were filled with both intrigue and intrepidation at meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Follow the yellow brick road and take the 2nd turn on the right after the gravel road starts, look for the rainbow valley sign on the fence then keep driving past the house of terrors until you see the white guitar on the fence, then follow it down to the surfboard cut in half that directs you to my studio. Fiance and I shared a nervous giggle, thankful that we had brought a 4wd vehicle for this little adventure.
The DJ greeted us warmly and welcomed us into his studio – a bush shack/shed surrounded by trees and only 7kms from the beach converted into his own little creative space. We entered through the kitchen and he led us into a room filled with intruments and all his gear. He also had a special little semi sound proof room for his drums, cos “I’m a drummer – that’s what I do”. I literally tripped and stumbled over my words, as well as a set of bongo drums, taken aback by the amount of fun I could have in that room and clearly struggling to hold myself back from having my own impromptu jam session. Step away from the instruments. Fiance, knowing me and my penchant for creating magical entertainment all too well, instantly sensed my inherent desire to kidnap DJ, lock him in a cupboard and take over his studio for two or three days.
We spent the next half hour or so talking about options for our wedding, one of which included the offer of an after party in a nearby beach car park, at which DJ would bring along his ‘DJ mobile’ pop the roof and spin the decks well into the morning, suggesting that we could then walk back to town if we weren’t “too messy” or do a deal with the dunno taxi service and have people shuttled back to town intermittently as sunrise approached. We would just have to let him know a few hours beforehand so he could arrange some of his “crew” to get down there with generators and the like. “We’ll let you know…” Fiance and I responded, not wanting to upset the very musical, slightly eccentric apple cart.
He also suggested keeping the eating and other wedding formalities to a minimum in order to maximise time for dancing, everyone wedding supplier has their own little agenda to push don’t they! Hey, who knows – we might just turn the entire wedding into a dance party yet!
We lunched on the balcony at Wise Winery the following day, soaking up those famous views across to Geographe Bay and also the goings on on the lawn below as someone elses wedding was in the initial stages of set up. We wandered down after lunch to check it out a little closer and talk logistics. In doing so we were greeted by a man, resting on a speaker. “Are you thinking of getting married here?” he asked, beads of sweat forming on his brow seemingly from recent physical exertion, although I could only count one speaker having been set up. “We ARE getting married here”, I responded. “OK, cool…do you need a DJ?”, ah I see. “No, we already have a DJ, why? Are you a DJ?” “Yes, I’m DJ Damon. Who are you having?” We told him. “Wow, he is like the best DJ in the region.” “Wow, that’s a nice thing for you to say of one of your competitors!” “Yeah he is like a real DJ. He’s awesome.” We went on to recount the story of our recent visit to the studio. “Wow, really? You went to his studio?!” We clearly didn’t realise the preceding reputation of DJ before our visit but we are now very confident that we have selected a quality addition to team Wedding, and he is sure to be a hit…if he can keep me away from his percussion.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Engagey...
Engagey… I miss you. You were only a part of my life for 4 months, but you were an all consuming force to be reckoned with. And I reckoned with you. You were reckoning. And I reckon I will look back on our time together fondly. Engagey, you taught me things. Important things. Things I could never know had you not been in my life. Things about myself, things about others and things about things.
I have learnt that ‘over catering’ runs in the family. I seem to have inherited this little characteristic, exhibiting tell tale symptoms quite early on in the Engagey planning process. Being a proud owner of the ‘over catering’ gene, however, led me to discover that I could fit 41 cartons of beer into a Rav 4. No more, no less. One more carton and I think the Ravster would have had a complete meltdown and quite literally snapped into two.
I learnt who my most important allies will be for Wedding. No big suprises there. One of these allies will be a small bottle of Rescue Remedy. For Shiz.
Then I learnt that I still need my mummy. One slightly shaky phone call to MOB and 30 mins later she arrives on the scene, armed with an abundance of wine and champagne and 2 seven layer dips. She was my rescue remedy until the champagne kicked in.
It’s probable that when Wedding finally arrives, I’m going to feel 300 times worse than pre-engagey with an overwhelming and unexplainable wave of paralyzing anxiety, but at least I’ll be able to recognize the signs early and grab a MOB and a MOH and self medicate accordingly.
Engagey will live on in our garden, so long as the Summer is not too harsh and I remember to water the herbs that once adorned her. But otherwise she is forever gone from my daily life.
But the sun has continued to rise and with it comes the whispers of something beautiful, something big. Wedding whispers, soft and sweet.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
NBS - 'not being stressed' ta
One thing that many people associate with weddings is stress. Wedding stress, amongst other things, is the pre cursor to a bad case of bridezillaitis. However, Wedding stress IS NOT an inherent characteristic of all wedding plans. And guess what?? I’M NOT STRESSED.
I’m relatively immune to stress as I know it at this point in my life. Being in a high pressure jobs for a great deal of my career, dealing with non-existent lead times, deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. Annnnnd Relying on incompetent suppliers for the most part to achieve said deadlines.
Mortgage stress? Well we don’t fit the technical definition but needless to say having to pay the mortgage isn’t the most favouritest part of my life. Sometimes having to think about disposable income and the way in which it is spent, can be stressful.
Stress fractures? Right at this moment (which is the only moment that you and I have FYI) the only repetitive stress of the foot striking the ground I’m likely to experience is through an impromptu interpretive dance fiesta. I performed one on the weekend and I seem to be fine.
Apparently there are 4 different types of stress that people experience:
Eustress – a good kind of stress that ‘provides immediate strength’. People experience Eustress at points of increased physical activity, enthusiasm and creativity. Comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed. Do you know what else comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed? Booze.
Distress – negative stress brought about my constant readjustments or alterations in routine. This may be acute or chronic. It doesn’t sound nice at all.
Hyperstress – occurs when an individual is pushed beyond what he or she can handle. This little chestnut is likely to result from being overloaded or overworked. Could perhaps occur during and after an office relocation when you have endured weeks of the sound of cheap masking tape shrieking as it’s ripped from its little cardboard spindle, never ending email instructions on how to pack boxes, left behind a 4th floor view over West Perth and Subiaco and found yourself in a red pimple of an office in a marketing ‘bunker’ with no natural light directly opposite ‘meeting room 3’ which may now be renamed the ‘Golden Palace’, ‘Yummy House’, or ‘The Miso Room’ due to the insistence of the admin girls to claim it as their lunch room when they are sharing a nice, aromatic Chinese lunch together.
Hypostress – is funnily enough the opposite of hyperstress. This occurs when an individual is bored or unchallenged, restless and unsinspired. Can’t say I haven’t been here before but with the recent distractions of post graduate study and pre-nuptial programs, this is definitely not a box that I fit neatly into.
Ahhhhhhh. So loving not being stressed.
The best part of Not Being Stressed or NBS as it will for here ever after be known, is dealing with the fact that everyone you know expects you to succumb. I don’t get it. It’s like your under this perpetual scrutiny of anyone who knows you going “oh. Yeah. Look out. Here she goes. She’s about to crack. Must be all the wedding stress”. Seriously people. Just. Back. Off. Phhheeewwwwww. I’m FINE. NOT STRESSED. Can pretend to be if that WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY. But a combination of good planning, unparalleled organisational skills, an amazing support network, yoga and red wine protects my nervous system from such breakdowns.
And hey, I’ve totally been there. I have lived through ‘Bells Palsy’ amongst other things - as most of my close friends would know – not an easy thing, and not an amazing thing, not a life threatening thing but not a fun thing, and not something you want to go through more than once,but, something that once you have had, know that its more than likely may strike again at some stage or another.
It’s basically a nasty little virus that attacks your cranial nerve, resulting in partial facial paralysis for a period of time. In my case, it was about 3 weeks. That’s 3 weeks of not being able to fully or even partially close my left eye or even control or have any movement in my the left side of my face whatsoever. The cause is unknown, although, some might say as is the case with any virus it would be some issue with the central nervous system and the immune system succumbing to the virus and allowing the inflammation of a nerve that most of you wouldn’t even know existed. I sure as shit didn't.
Now I can say that I was in a fairly high state of stress when I woke up one day and noticed that my eyes were shutting at different speeds, that later on that day I had no feeling and no control over one side of my mouth and that even later on that night when the left side of my face completely ‘dropped’ and I thought I was having a stroke at the tender age of 28. I just wanted to go to bed, thinking that I just needed a good nights sleep but knowing that it was so much more serious than that.
Poor fiancé. Gorgeous fiancé, even then, knowing that something was at least visibly not right, would not tell me that I looked a little strange. Even when I screamed at him. I was stressed. He drove me to emergency – as luck would have it – on a Saturday night. Not ideal. We stayed there for a long time. I was prodded and poked and made an exhibition of to student nurses and doctors. All the while I would like to think I remained relatively calm, although I may have just appeared that way given my inability to control a whole one side of my face. At all. I was diagnosed with Bells Palsy, given the essential survival materials (a course of steroids, some tape to tape my eye closed and some eye drops) and sent home to fend for myself.
I'm sure that even the usually unflappable fiance experience an extreme period of stress knowing that the girl he loved may be not as pretty as she once may have been, for an unknown period of time - maybe forever... He stuck by me. Unconditionally and without reserve. I'm an unbelievably lucky girl to have someone like that so entrenched in my life.
So my idea of stress is a relative and very real thing. Little things are not going to send me facially paralysed. Needless to say, I can be a bit of a control freak but only when I have some control.
Impending engagey allows me such a privilege. I’m not stressed because I’m organised. This does not go down well with other control freaks.
I think I may be a victim of superficial stress, that is to say, I can allow myself to become overly preoccupied with things that are beyond my immediate scope of control. Those things currently include:
- The weather
- The actions of other people
- The perception of my actions/organisational capability to others
- Sugar flowers (watch this space, this is another blog topic altogether)
All in all, I think the result of my current condition of NBS is dealing with the non-recognition of others of my actual level of organisation and their inability to deal with my competence and sensitivity to actual stress. As soon as I feel the slightest sensation of a tightening between the shoulders, a persisting eye twitch, a sore throat or a little bit of moodiness, I’m onto it. My health is of paramount importance to me.
If I’m actually for real stressed, the god lord and baby Jesus and friends will know about it. If I need help, I am not too proud to ask for it, and if I come to you with half of my face hanging off, I think for certain you would’ve already seen it coming.
I’m relatively immune to stress as I know it at this point in my life. Being in a high pressure jobs for a great deal of my career, dealing with non-existent lead times, deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. Annnnnd Relying on incompetent suppliers for the most part to achieve said deadlines.
Mortgage stress? Well we don’t fit the technical definition but needless to say having to pay the mortgage isn’t the most favouritest part of my life. Sometimes having to think about disposable income and the way in which it is spent, can be stressful.
Stress fractures? Right at this moment (which is the only moment that you and I have FYI) the only repetitive stress of the foot striking the ground I’m likely to experience is through an impromptu interpretive dance fiesta. I performed one on the weekend and I seem to be fine.
Apparently there are 4 different types of stress that people experience:
Eustress – a good kind of stress that ‘provides immediate strength’. People experience Eustress at points of increased physical activity, enthusiasm and creativity. Comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed. Do you know what else comes in handy when motivation and inspiration are needed? Booze.
Distress – negative stress brought about my constant readjustments or alterations in routine. This may be acute or chronic. It doesn’t sound nice at all.
Hyperstress – occurs when an individual is pushed beyond what he or she can handle. This little chestnut is likely to result from being overloaded or overworked. Could perhaps occur during and after an office relocation when you have endured weeks of the sound of cheap masking tape shrieking as it’s ripped from its little cardboard spindle, never ending email instructions on how to pack boxes, left behind a 4th floor view over West Perth and Subiaco and found yourself in a red pimple of an office in a marketing ‘bunker’ with no natural light directly opposite ‘meeting room 3’ which may now be renamed the ‘Golden Palace’, ‘Yummy House’, or ‘The Miso Room’ due to the insistence of the admin girls to claim it as their lunch room when they are sharing a nice, aromatic Chinese lunch together.
Hypostress – is funnily enough the opposite of hyperstress. This occurs when an individual is bored or unchallenged, restless and unsinspired. Can’t say I haven’t been here before but with the recent distractions of post graduate study and pre-nuptial programs, this is definitely not a box that I fit neatly into.
Ahhhhhhh. So loving not being stressed.
The best part of Not Being Stressed or NBS as it will for here ever after be known, is dealing with the fact that everyone you know expects you to succumb. I don’t get it. It’s like your under this perpetual scrutiny of anyone who knows you going “oh. Yeah. Look out. Here she goes. She’s about to crack. Must be all the wedding stress”. Seriously people. Just. Back. Off. Phhheeewwwwww. I’m FINE. NOT STRESSED. Can pretend to be if that WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY. But a combination of good planning, unparalleled organisational skills, an amazing support network, yoga and red wine protects my nervous system from such breakdowns.
And hey, I’ve totally been there. I have lived through ‘Bells Palsy’ amongst other things - as most of my close friends would know – not an easy thing, and not an amazing thing, not a life threatening thing but not a fun thing, and not something you want to go through more than once,but, something that once you have had, know that its more than likely may strike again at some stage or another.
It’s basically a nasty little virus that attacks your cranial nerve, resulting in partial facial paralysis for a period of time. In my case, it was about 3 weeks. That’s 3 weeks of not being able to fully or even partially close my left eye or even control or have any movement in my the left side of my face whatsoever. The cause is unknown, although, some might say as is the case with any virus it would be some issue with the central nervous system and the immune system succumbing to the virus and allowing the inflammation of a nerve that most of you wouldn’t even know existed. I sure as shit didn't.
Now I can say that I was in a fairly high state of stress when I woke up one day and noticed that my eyes were shutting at different speeds, that later on that day I had no feeling and no control over one side of my mouth and that even later on that night when the left side of my face completely ‘dropped’ and I thought I was having a stroke at the tender age of 28. I just wanted to go to bed, thinking that I just needed a good nights sleep but knowing that it was so much more serious than that.
Poor fiancé. Gorgeous fiancé, even then, knowing that something was at least visibly not right, would not tell me that I looked a little strange. Even when I screamed at him. I was stressed. He drove me to emergency – as luck would have it – on a Saturday night. Not ideal. We stayed there for a long time. I was prodded and poked and made an exhibition of to student nurses and doctors. All the while I would like to think I remained relatively calm, although I may have just appeared that way given my inability to control a whole one side of my face. At all. I was diagnosed with Bells Palsy, given the essential survival materials (a course of steroids, some tape to tape my eye closed and some eye drops) and sent home to fend for myself.
I'm sure that even the usually unflappable fiance experience an extreme period of stress knowing that the girl he loved may be not as pretty as she once may have been, for an unknown period of time - maybe forever... He stuck by me. Unconditionally and without reserve. I'm an unbelievably lucky girl to have someone like that so entrenched in my life.
So my idea of stress is a relative and very real thing. Little things are not going to send me facially paralysed. Needless to say, I can be a bit of a control freak but only when I have some control.
Impending engagey allows me such a privilege. I’m not stressed because I’m organised. This does not go down well with other control freaks.
I think I may be a victim of superficial stress, that is to say, I can allow myself to become overly preoccupied with things that are beyond my immediate scope of control. Those things currently include:
- The weather
- The actions of other people
- The perception of my actions/organisational capability to others
- Sugar flowers (watch this space, this is another blog topic altogether)
All in all, I think the result of my current condition of NBS is dealing with the non-recognition of others of my actual level of organisation and their inability to deal with my competence and sensitivity to actual stress. As soon as I feel the slightest sensation of a tightening between the shoulders, a persisting eye twitch, a sore throat or a little bit of moodiness, I’m onto it. My health is of paramount importance to me.
If I’m actually for real stressed, the god lord and baby Jesus and friends will know about it. If I need help, I am not too proud to ask for it, and if I come to you with half of my face hanging off, I think for certain you would’ve already seen it coming.
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