I’ve got chronic pain and a wedding to dance at

The blog’s been a little quiet lately, for which I can only apologise. A long flare-up often leads to periods of quiet because, quite frankly, who wants to write about (or read about, for that matter) pain and sadness for a solid nine weeks?

Last week I decided I’d forget about the pain and write about whatever was going on in the world instead. Sadly, Trump happened and that was another pile of pain I couldn’t bring myself to write about. Instead I just cried and scrolled through a range of devastated posts online. I didn’t feel the need to add to the outpouring of emotion; everyone was already articulating my thoughts – and that in itself was somewhat comforting.

So how did I decide to fill the blog void? I decided to write about weddings! Hurrah! Because quite honestly, if wedding chat doesn’t cheer us up in times like this, what will?

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Image via Love My Dress

That’s how I feel about weddings. Even as a non-religious, non-traditional, non-bride, I believe nothing beats a good wedding. A few months ago I wrote this post about our un-wedding coming up next month, and at just seven weeks away it’s getting very exciting. For the past seven months we’ve been planning on Friday nights with takeaway, wine and the next thing on the to-do list. It’s involved nights of tasting wines, cheese, lemon tarts and chocolate tortes, and listening to our favourite tunes on repeat. Seriously, if this is wedding planning, I may have to do this again. (I joke. Kinda.)

There have only been two moments I haven’t adored; one where I decided my dress didn’t suit me about 413 times, and one where I couldn’t decide how to style my hair for six months. Then I reminded myself that things like dresses and hair styles were exactly why I didn’t want a wedding at all, and I promised myself at the beginning that these wouldn’t be the things I would worry about. I refused to become overtaken by cakes and flowers and dresses and hair styles – things that I just don’t really care about. I just wanted it to be simple and fun and so far, it seems to be going to plan. So after taking more selfies than any sane person should, I’ve just decided I look awesome in my dress and I will have excellent hair and who cares if I don’t. Not me. (Repeating that mantra whenever I start to doubt myself.)

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Image via Love My Dress

The Friday night planning continues and we surround ourselves by all the right people and all the good things, and it all feels pretty marvellous. But whilst one part of me is planning to make sure it’s the best party we ever have, the other part of me is planning to make sure I can be well enough to enjoy that party.

As a chronic pain patient of eight years, I’m well practised. Behind every day is a well-tested plan. I live each day knowing what to eat and when, what to wear, what to do and what not to do, and how many tablets to take and when. I pride myself on sticking to that plan – most of the time.

Even so, planning or not, wedding days are long. They’re emotionally and physically draining and I know that to last until the end of the night it’s going to take some small miracle. I’ll take a medicine bag with me containing all my essential pills and potions, and I’ve got lots of little things planned to help me out throughout the day. I guess beyond that, all I can do is hope for the best and pace myself. And I will. I really will.

Okay, I’ll try.


Fancy reading this later? Pinnable image just for you.

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