Planning a Wedding With an Anxious, ADHD Brain
Everything's fine!!!!!
It’s been 12 days, six hours, and 37 minutes since I cried about my wedding.
I know—I know!!!—it’s ridiculous. I’m so happy that I get to marry my favorite person in the entire world, and am beyond grateful that we get to have the wedding of our dreams. But holy shit, you guys: Planning a wedding is really something.
The morning after we got engaged, I immediately went into GET SHIT DONE mode (AKA “took an Adderall”). I asked all of my married friends to send me any and all resources that helped them bring their Pinterest dreams to life, upgraded to a paid subscription to Vogue Weddings, and started trying to figure out how we were going to whittle down everyone we’ve ever met into a 200-person guest list.
… I made it 15 minutes before I started to spiral. (To everyone who told me to “spend a few weeks enjoying the engagement before you start wedding planning,” you were right and I should have listened).
Within hours of becoming a bride-to-be—something I’d dreamed about since I was a little girl, yearned for when I was watching all of my friends get married, and went full-on crazy over in the months leading up to the proposal—I was already overwhelmed. It took two days before people started asking me when the wedding was, which only sent me deeper into the freak out… and made the whole process feel even more impossible to start, let alone see to fruition.
I’ve been to dozens of weddings over the last few years, but still somehow had no idea what I was in for when it came time to plan my own. No one told me that when you become a bride, you’re suddenly expected to just… know? all kinds of stuff that you’ve never, ever had any reason to learn and will likely never need to know again (at least, if marriage #1 works out, which is what I’m banking on here). How the hell am I supposed to have any sense of how many canapes people eat during cocktail hour, or how to word save-the-date envelopes so that no one is offended, or how much to budget for the band’s generator? Even simple stuff—like how to find a venue or where to shop for a wedding dress in New York City—felt debilitating; and the more I Googled, the more confused I got about it all.
For my anxious, ADHD brain, planning a large-scale event that’s riddled with the pressure of being “THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE” is worst-case scenario. The perfectionist in me wants every single detail to be, well, perfect—for myself, for my partner, for our parents, for our guests—which, as I get further into the process, I’m realizing is fully impossible. Someone hates that we aren’t doing black tie, someone else thinks my dress of choice is “not classy,” someone else thinks we should do plated dinners instead of family style—there’s a truly endless list of opinions that make me feel like I’m fucking this whole thing up for everyone involved. I spend hours upon hours every day overthinking all of this to the point of unhealthy obsession, but when it comes time to actually do anything, my ADHD takes over—meaning that I freeze up and procrastinate making any decisions. Please don’t ask me about our wedding band (or photographer, or flowers, or outfits), because we sure as hell don’t have one. On a brighter note, at least my procrastination has kept our apartment super clean!
After three months of scouring the Internet for wedding planners without ever meeting with anyone (there were too many to choose from, and “knowing what to look for in a wedding planner” is another one of those bridal things I never learned how to do), I finally found one who I love and who has helped me take a lot of this stress off of my plate. It’s a luxury, for sure, but one I would highly, highly recommend budgeting for if you’ve got the same sort of brain that I do.
Delegation (and regularly bitching to my therapist about the stress of wedding planning, which feels like a massive waste of a $150 session, but here we are) aside, the primary thing that’s helped me regain some of my sanity throughout this process is telling myself that ultimately, it’s about the marriage—not the wedding. It’s cheesy, for sure, but clichés are clichés for a reason. Whenever I find myself slipping into a late-night anxiety spiral, all I need to do is look over at my partner—who is always sound asleep and doesn’t let any of this ruffle his feathers—and remember that this big party (which, when it comes down to it, is what we’re throwing) is just day one of the rest of our lives together. Fuck the flowers and the canapes and unsolicited opinions—as long as I get to marry my favorite person in the whole world, it’s going to be perfect.
For your amusement: My favorite fictional wedding moments of all time
Yes, I cried re-watching each and every one of these.
1. The Crazy Rich Asians Decor
CAN YOU IMAGINE HAVING THIS KIND OF FLOWER BUDGET?!?!?! Also, can you imagine me walking down the aisle in thigh-high rhinestone boots, because I’m seriously considering it.
2. Jim and Pam’s Aisle Walk
Perfect, no notes. (Aside from the unfortunate Chris Brown of it all). Have subtly hinted that I would like to have this type of surprise at my wedding. Consider this my not-so-subtle hint.
3. April and Andy’s Surprise Wedding
The deeper I get into this process, the more I think April and Andy were onto something with their fancy party—especially in that they made everyone else provide the food and decorations. (“I guess I kind of hate most things. But I never really seem to hate you. So I want to spend the rest of my life with you, is that cool?” I MEAN)
4. George Bank’s Father of the Bride monologue
My dad won’t be there to walk me down the aisle, and this moment gives me all the feels.
5. Charlotte and Harry’s wedding, where everything goes wrong
As they say, the worse the wedding, the better the marriage, which is what I will be telling myself when one of us inevitably spills wine on my white gown—talk about taking the pressure off. L’Chaim!
6. Meredith and Derek’s Post-It Note
Whenever I need a reminder that it’s about the marriage—not the wedding—this is the moment I think of. Love each other, even when we hate each other. No running. Take care when we’re senile and smelly. This is forever.