Even when lockdown locks down your dreams, love will find a way.
By Sharon Paine
I’ve been planning my wedding for about 30 years. Make that 34 years. My mom has a photo of me at age 4, with a petticoat pulled up to my armpits, a doily on my head, and feet drowning in mommy’s shoes, while clutching fake flowers.
I imagined that, like my mom, I’d be married at 25, with two kids by 30. It didn’t work out that way. Nowhere in the fantasy was I going to marry a divorcee with a child in my late 30s. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d be forced to postpone my wedding because of a pandemic.
I swiped right on my future husband on a rainy June afternoon three years ago. I’d given up on dating apps, but the day before, I’d heard how someone had met their spouse online. I was bored, so I gave it another go.
Any hesitation I had about getting involved with a divorced dad flew out the window as he grinned at me over coffee a few days later.
I met his son much too soon (according to the experts) and by accident. But I understood the gravity of the situation. I fell in love with both of them in the blink of an eye.
At the time, the son was living full-time with his mother in Johannesburg. He spent every school holiday in Cape Town with us, and with a few weekend trips up to Johannesburg, we managed to see him every six weeks or so.
Last year, in March, my step-son came to live with us full-time. My corporate job had been weighing on me, and my sudden life shift to step-mom changed my priorities.
After a tearful conversation with my partner, I handed in my resignation. Two weeks later, both of my guys were down on one knee, asking me to spend the rest of my life with them.
After years of fantasy and Pinterest boards, it was my turn to plan an actual wedding. I was frozen. I was afraid. The pressure of the guest list, decisions, and costs came crashing down on me.
I’d left my job to be a stay-at-home mom with a pipe dream of being an author. I was struggling not to feel selfish and jealous about the new person in my home. Too many life changes, and not enough time to adapt.
Somehow I managed to pull myself up by the laces on my Converse, and I booked a venue for July 2020. I opened up my “private” Pinterest boards and everything was planned. With my Wedding Squad in tow, the second dress I tried on was the one.
I had procrastinated on sending out “save-the-dates” and it was time to send out invites. March was my deadline. Then Covid–19 hit South Africa.
The venue assured me it wouldn’t be a problem to push out the wedding date. I just needed to pick a new date. My anxiety shot through the roof as I struggled with the unknowns.
My fiancé’s initial reaction to the delay of the wedding was naturally very negative. He was anxious about potentially lost deposits and feeling of being stuck in a moment, just repeating the same day over and over again.
Over time that feeling has softened at lockdown, due to the comfort of knowing we won’t be putting family and friends at risk. Not to mention the relief of not needing to try to organise and plan such an important day while dealing with the relationship changes, lifestyle changes and stress caused by Covid-19. I had to agree.
However, for me, there was a whole other factor. On the 40th day of lockdown, with 80 days till the wedding, I conceded defeat. The wedding wasn’t happening this year. I cried and tried to be brave. Lockdown had broken me.
Lockdown has been like one of those magnifying mirrors, where suddenly you have a full-grown moustache and pores the size of 20c coins. My need for control has been evident in my handling of home-schooling, and my obsession with minimalism and organisation.
The pressure I’ve put on myself and my family has been crippling. I became too dependent on my partner for validation. My beliefs around parenting and partner-roles came into question.
While I know nothing will really change in our day-to-day after marriage, the act of getting married means a lot to me. I’ve come to see that I wasn’t ready to get married this year. I’m relieved that the wedding has been pushed out, by 365 days.
I’ve found a therapist and we’re working to heal some hurts and reframe some beliefs. I didn’t initially want to accept that Covid–19 was ruining my wedding plans, but somehow, it’s been exactly what I needed.
- This article first appeared on the Change Exchange, an online platform by BrightRock, provider of the first-ever life insurance that changes as your life changes. The opinions expressed in this piece are the writer’s own and don’t necessarily reflect the views of BrightRock.
