change is hard = biggest understatement of the year

There are a few things in life I know with surety.

• I know that Christ is the Savior of the world and that He died for us that we may have eternal happiness
• I know that cupcakes are always a good choice
• I know that I love my fiance
• I know that people are good
• I know that instrumental music is super successful in putting me in an uplifting mood
• I know that my knowledge of the Bachelor is far more than it needs to be
• I know that I have a hard time coping with change

The last point is what I truly need to write about. I cannot figure out my thoughts and writing somehow helps me with that. Thus, my need. My life is changing in so many capacities, I feel like a balloon that is being fed too much air, ready to explode. Yesterday, I could not breathe I felt so overwhelmed. I do not want to be dramatic, but I would try to calm myself down and then keel over overwhelmed with thinking about everything.

So yes, my life is not being threatened by some warmonger. Nor am I in poverty, fighting for my life daily. Nor have I lost a loved one at a tragic age.

I have been blessed. #whitegirlproblems So blessed that I feel silly for having these emotions. That is how I have felt my entire life; I have so much, why would I ever dare complain or let myself feel emotions that seems silly compared to the travesties that are ever present across the world.

Part of me is saying, “Suck it up!” And another part is responding, “That’s what she said!” And then another part, a quiet part, is saying that my problems still matter. And another part, screaming, is saying, “other people have it worse.”

Which one do I listen too? How can I appease all of these thoughts? Is one wrong?

My comfy life is changing, though not to an uncomfortable one. A different one. I am just changing from one role in life to another. Well, adding another role which alters my other roles.

I am getting married! Ring all the bells, celebrate at all the parties! This girl has finally found the guy for her. I am ecstatic! Honestly. (seriously, Michael, when you read this, I am excited for forever with you)

Marrying someone not only changes my status, from Beyonce’s number one single to Etta James’ “At last”), but it also changes my role. It boils down to this.

Pre-marriage: I account to myself

Marriage: I have to account to another person.

I am ok with that! I love thinking of what he needs and trying my best to cater to those needs. I love him and desire to make him happy at all times. I try. I fail. I try again. I succeed. I try. I fail. And so on. But now I have to think past just him, but also his family’s needs. I am fine with that... until I think about how sometimes I have to give up parts with my family.

This is where I cannot breathe.

My life’s role has been a role of support. I like to support my family in any way they need. Help my mom clean the hose up after a party when everyone else is doing something else or forgets, babysit for my sisters for free, pick up flowers for the house in a three hour drive, I drive cars for my dad and brothers 10 hour bike races. I like that role. I like being available to help my family. Scratch that. I love being able to help my family. I love being with my family for those little moments, some that I can never repeat or have again. Serving them helps me show how much I love them.

This is where I cannot breathe.  

I have to split my time now. I cannot just think of my family. I have two others to consider, Michael’s family and Michael and I’s family.

This is where I cannot breathe.

His family is just as important as mine. There is the change. I cannot be all that I was for my family now. Or at least I think I cannot. How can I be this ever-present aunt when I will be hundreds of miles away from my cheeseboys? How can I be a wonderful sister or daughter? Yes, I have lived away from home during college, but I was transient. I could go back anytime.

This is where I cannot breathe.

I cannot just leave all the time and it will only get harder and harder as children come to have that physical (as in being in the same place) relationship with my family.

“I wish you could just live here,” my sweet eight-year-old nephew, Cooper.

This is where I cannot breathe.

It is not the first time he said it, he has said it a few times and so has his brother. It kills me every time. Makes me keel over. They are only ever going to be children once and I will miss it.

This is where I cannot breathe.

I need to be selfish, but I do not want to. I need to think of my new family unit with Michael, but I do not want to let my old one slip away. My new family I am making needs to come first and I am terrified.

This is where I cannot breathe.

What if I cannot do that?

I believe I can... but I am terrified of what I am losing, going numb to what I am missing out on back with my family. Not having my family there for my big moments like I was there for theirs. I want them there. I need them there.

I am gaining an eternal companion, my best friend I get to have for literally ever. There are so many blessings attached to this and I have been waiting since I was 12 for this. I am marrying into a beautiful family. What a great gift!

#whitegirlproblem And I am complaining.