My favorite aspect of wedding planning, and the inspiration for the whole wedding's vibe, was collecting vintage yellow flower plates from thrift stores around Austin and the hill country. It took months and months to find enough plates and it was super fun. I spent hours coordinating mismatched plates for each table, and even named some of them: “Bold Marigold table,” “Dainty Mix table.”
With a month and a half left until the wedding, I was pretty stressed about certain large projects, including paving our ceremony site, the homemade photo booth that just didn't work, and creating the playlist for the reception. But I was calmed by the fact that my darling plates, with coordinating wildflower centerpieces, were the extent of the decoration needed for our outdoor setting. And I trusted my partner's word that we'd have time to plan the music and fix the photobooth later.
The day of the wedding, my future mother-in-law suggested that we place the plates face down so they wouldn't be landing pads for bird poop and leaves. And I agreed, with the understanding that we'd have enough time to flip them over come reception-time.
Then people started to arrive, and I went out to greet and squuuueeeeze and laugh and feel electric inside! We walked out to the grove to have our ceremony. I was brimming with buzzing energy and joy!
When it was over, we sent everyone to the backyard to start eating while we took a few pictures with the family. When we came to join them, every table was full of beloved people eating beautiful, local, vegetarian food, drinking Texas wines and beers, devouring homemade vegan cupcakes.
And on our table, there were upside down plates.
Then I flipped them over, ran to get my dinky camera, and took the one and only picture of flowered plates at my wedding. I set the camera down and proceeded to have an amazing reception, an amazing drunken bonfire, an amazing sleepover that extended to three more days with my amazing friends. FUCK YEAH.
In the excitement, I didn't have much room to think about the fact that the plates were never flipped, and no one, including me, ever saw the whole thing come together.
When I did think about it, I felt petty and pushed it away to think about what an amazing time I had with everyone. But under the surface, I felt it was my partner's fault. If things had been done on time, I would have been in charge and on top of things, not planning the music at the last minute, and I would have been able to ensure that the plates were flipped.
When we returned from the honeymoon, our pictures had come in the mail. There was picture after picture of the backyard, with tables perfectly set in the sunshine, with so many blank-ass upside down plates. I HATED THESE PLATES. I HATED THESE PICTURES.
Fortunately, this year, I've been reading yoga books, and going to yoga therapy and Buddhist yoga classes. I am slowly learning to be aware of my feelings, thoughts, and needs, rather than suppress them in order to be perfect. My yoga therapist also has suggested that my partner learn to “hold space” for me to word-vomit my feelings as I heal from all this stress damage.
So, in accordance to what I have been learning in yoga therapy, I finally allowed myself to really feel this. I brought awareness to it. I did not suppress it, or ridicule myself for it. I was bursting with the feeling. I ran around the house to find my partner. I asked him to hold space for me.
And I sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed about my beautiful plates. I told him how I had been resenting his procrastination, and how I had felt like it was to blame for many of my stresses, and for the plates not being turned over. And how I now was realizing that the plates probably wouldn't have been turned over anyway because I would have been too excited to remember, and how every time I use one of the plates, I feel a pang, and on and on and on.
He listened. He held me, and he HEARD me. He told me he felt stupid for not realizing, that I was valid in feeling loss. He said he finally got the link between his procrastination and its impact on me. He told me how proud he was of me for bringing awareness to it and for asking him to hold space. But mostly, he listened.
When I was done, I felt the sting of loss subside. We felt, and made, much love that night.
Now every time we pull out a vintage, yellow flower plate, it is like the gonging of the meditation bell, gently, lovingly, drawing our awareness back to the present. And now when I see these plates, I feel immense abiding love for my partner.
And I smile.