marriedgirl

Waiting to Exhale

In Getting Married, Main on October 29, 2009 at 3:59 pm

When I got married earlier this year, it was a three ring circus. Perhaps 30-ring might be better, considering how long the festivities went on for.  I enjoyed most of them, save for the two or three really ugly moments I had with my parents. Which, considering the kind of show they wanted to put on, is only to be expected.

(You see, show in our family, and a lot of other Indian families that are planning rigmarole weddings, usually means pressure. Pressure=strain. Strain= hit low, hit nastily at the people you are closest to. This = ugly ugly moments.)

And during those days of being in the silk and gold covered bosom of my large, lovely family, I wasn’t given any sort of pre-marital advice, sexual or otherwise. (Thank god.  I don’t think I would’ve survived the embarrassment if my mother or any other female relative had tried. Yeah, I said female. No, I didn’t mention male. No, males do not discuss s-e-x with younger females in my clean-nosed virginal female family. Can I get a loud chee-chee with the very idea?) Maybe it was because I was having a Love Marriage, or maybe it was just one of those stereotypical things that we don’t do- being extremely well educated and all that, either way, it didn’t happen.

Somehow, though, in all the anticipation, and all the preparation, and all the almost-dehydrations (this was one helluva hot summer wedding, with definite power cuts during the sticky! humid! nights!), somewhere along the line, I took a deep breath and didn’t let go.  I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know when I did it. I didn’t even realize that I was holding my breath until recently. And it wasn’t even one of those ton-of-bricks realizations. It came to me as I jumped into the pool again. The chlorine woke me up a little. It came to me when I had a performance evaluation recently. Even the euphoria of a good review only lasted for half a day. And it sort of began to become a realization. A gradual sense of being under anesthesia.  Everything seems fuzzy and sort of nondescript. I know I’m alive, but I’m going about my days as if I were in a dream. I’m not zesty, I’m not sad, I        just am. I feel like my entire system is waiting for something. Something? Something. If anything, I feel a little frustration. But why? For what reason?

It’s almost like I married Him, and now I’ve lost myself.  I’m sure it’s only temporary, but in the meantime, I’m waiting for real life to begin again.

Waiting to exhale,

MG.

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  1. […] settled in so much that I began to get bored and felt like I’d lost myself.  While it may have been a natural let-down from the excitement and energy of the wedding, it […]

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