The late night

I find time moves slowly late at night. Twenty minutes feels like a lifetime as I read blogs so to calm my mind and help me sleep. Yet when all I’m trying to do is fall asleep; life is fast and the night dies to day.
In a unexplainable and often unbelievable series of events, I’ve gotten to the point in my life where I’m about to be married.
Two days from now in fact (as it’s officially Friday even if the wee hours of the morning.) I can hardly believe it. It is all quite surreal. Months spent planning for this one day and now it’s upon me and as a wide eyed child looks about the world I look upon my wedding.
It’s the most natural thing in the world to me to spend the rest of my life with Jacob. Yet the most unnatural thing to put on a white dress, walk down an aisle in front of 100 people, and somehow manage to not have a panic attack… how do people do it?
Life is changing at a rapid rate, crazy pace… with my mental illness still lingering on, I sometimes startle to find where I’m at, the things I’m about to do, the woman that I am. It’s all good and I’m glad life went on despite my thorough inability to be a participant in my life. Yet. So odd that it did go on.

Kelli came early on Wednesday and it’s been the best thing to have her here. We’ve laughed and cried and cooked and cleaned and worked and shopped and cuddled and remembered and created and lived. Never have I felt more loved by a friend than Kelli and more at peace and safe. She is the very best of friends.
Rachelle and April showed up the afternoon of what could be called yesterday since I’m up so late. It has been equally fantastic and joy filled to have them here as well. As a group of four we’ve known each other for almost six years. Drifting in and out of one another’s lives but with a sweet undercurrent of sustained friendship. To laugh together and be silly women has been fabulous and I couldn’t ask for a better time leading up to the wedding.

I’m grateful for where my life is and where it’s headed. Sometimes in the forest of my mental illness it’s hard to see the individual, beautiful, solid trees that make it up. But right now, I can, and what a gift that is.


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