When I woke up this morning I couldn’t move. I lay there as the sun got brighter on the other side of the curtains, and the house woke up around me. I got later and later for work.
My fiance is moving in tomorrow.
We’ve been long distance since about two days after we met. We’ve seen each other when we can, and I moved over to the US for a year to be closer. Now we’re settling down on my side of the Atlantic, which has been a whole load of homework in itself.
For nearly a year his fiance visa has been my holy grail. It’s affected the jobs I could look for, it’s taken up all of my free time with research, and the actual process of doing all of the paperwork nearly pushed me over the edge.
In all that time I never once registered that once we got it, it would mean us living together. I mean, I knew that theoretically, but it felt so far away that I sort of just assumed that it might never happen.
In the weeks between the visa being granted and my fiance’s arrival date (just a reminder: bloody tomorrow.) I’ve catapulted between having cold feet and looking forward to it a million times. I usually wake up with a cold puddle of dread sitting somewhere inside my chest. Then, by the time I get out of work, it’s usually gone.
I don’t think I don’t want to get married. It’s just a lot of change all at once. Most couples get to do this piece by piece. It feels like we’ve been crouched – tense, and ready to pounce – for an age, and now the time has come, and suddenly there’s not even a moment to breathe.
I’m already nostalgic for what I’m about to lose: The ability to do whatever I like without considering another person, not having to shave my legs all the time, and, most importantly, the exact dynamic I have with my family right now. I don’t want to add another person. I don’t want that to change, and I’m so sad it is.
But, at the same time, I know (or at least, hope) this is for the best. I can’t have the same family dynamic forever or I’ll be fifty years old, still living with my parents, and probably holding my sister hostage.
I can’t keep living selfishly.
Things are going to change whether I want them to or not, and this is a change that I fought tooth, and nail, and super-long application form for.
I’m sad. I’m scared. We’re going to be OK.