I have arrived at a season of celebration, and I find myself entirely unsure how to handle it. A month ago while on our favorite hike, my boyfriend became my fiancé. He got down on his knee in a moment we’ve both imagined for months and said the sweetest things while our dog wagged his tail in between us. The sun was shining; it was the perfect spring day and I’ve never seen something more sparkly than the ring that now takes up permanent residence on my finger.
We finished our hike in our engaged euphoria, oscillating between “Can you believe it?” and “What should we do now? I guess we should eat something?” We drove home listening to our favorite songs and soaking in the moments of being the only two people who knew. And we stopped to get Sammy a pup cup at Starbucks, obviously. He needed to celebrate too!
And then we started calling people. It was the absolute best to hear all of our people so excited for us. The knowing looks via Facetime when my best friends answered the phone, eagerly waiting all spring for this very call. We told and retold our story, him relieved to have pulled off the surprise and me feeling giddy it finally happened.
But it was also a little overwhelming—it occurred to us almost immediately our new reality: we have to plan a wedding.
Anxiety completely took over the next day. I was spiraling, googling venues in between phone calls and scrolling through the calendar trying to scheme wedding dates. How many people do we want to invite? Brunch or dinner? Do we even want to plan anything at all? Elopements are trendy. But what about a dress?
Not even twenty four hours after the moment, thoughts of all the next steps had already derailed my joy. I’m an Enneagram six, and in stress we tend towards habits of the three. When something positive is happening, the tendency is to skip toward the next stressful moment. I’m actively looking for things to be worried about—convincing myself that if life is going well, I’ve missed something that I should be on the lookout for. I’m putting my guard up even as my body tells me I am safe.
Four days later, I received a promotion offer from my job. I bounced from one anxiety to another—am I even qualified? Will I be good at this? Will everyone wonder why I was put in this position? Are they sure? It was an immediate wave of imposter syndrome. Instead of celebrating that moment, this vote of confidence and new opportunity, I was again frozen.
Ironically, the word I’ve chosen to focus my year around is “present.” I’ve finally landed in a spring season of my life after a long winter of grief and loss. My friends have been sweet to remind me this is what we have been praying for, but I didn’t expect to not know what to do when it arrived. My default is living in fear while I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There is magic and wonder in this season. I knew the engagement was coming, but the moment still felt surreal—like oh wow, this is really happening and how lucky am I that he chose me and I chose him. And we get to hold hands and decide what to eat for dinner for all of our days. And I’m allowed to let the confetti fall around me. I’m allowed to celebrate this moment. It isn’t self-indulgent to do so. Stopping to soak this in won’t ruin it or take anything away. The confetti is falling with or without me—I may as well stop and take it in.
Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.
