Pretty when I cry

When my husband and I chose our wedding photographer, we knew her approach to editing was to not edit. I was confident that I would like the photos anyway. It’s not about perfection on a wedding day, it’s about real love, and real love always comes with a little mess.

Looking at our photos I see the love first. I feel the emotions again. I can remember my thoughts. I see Jake standing across from me, focused only on his face.

As he read his vows, I cried, a lot. I let the tears fall. I hardly wiped them away, having a lot of faith in my makeup application skills.

Our wedding day was one we’d been planning for 3 years, winning us the title of “longest clients ever” in our wedding planner’s history. We put little pressure on the details of the design. We changed things a lot, as you can imagine in your 20s your taste and budget will go through some drastic changes. We just wanted the people we loved to be there most of all. We wanted people to feel appreciated for flying across the world to Italy. We wanted them to have the most fun they’d ever had dancing with us in a wine cellar. We wanted them to taste some of the most delicious food.

To our dismay, we did not get all of the things we wanted. Does anyone ever? We did however, get most of those things. And we fought to have them.

I did not realize that when you host a wedding, you become the “managers” of the party. In theory I did, but not what it would entail. Sure, there was always difficult decisions to be made. Like what song to walk down the aisle to, and when it should start. What song would be the best opener for the dance floor?

I didn’t know we would have to make decisions that could destroy others relationships with us, to sacrifice to have a day as close to what we imagined that we invested so much time and money into. A day that I will remember forever. Happy and sad at the same time. In these photos you can see that.

I walked down the aisle hand in hand with Jake, my husband, we were the hosts of the event. Everyone looked at us, wondering, how we were handling it. Some knew what we were going through, others did not. Would we break under the pressure?

The pressure of the day only strengthened us. We got to experience sides of each other we’ve never gotten to see. Sides we’ve both craved of seeing in each other. In front of people that know us, that love us, together, and apart.

Even though we’d been married for 2 years at the time we had our wedding, this felt like the real thing. Our love became out loud. On display. Both our vulnerable sides were revealed in such a public way, a vulnerability that isn’t always pretty. We had to invite everyone in, and hope they could hold what they witnessed with care and admiration, like we felt for eachother, like you see in our photos.

My husband has loved me through everything he’s seen me go through since he’s been around. He continues to love me through my intense emotions, knowing they are fleeting. He trusts that even when everything looks and feels terrible, that there is purpose to be revealed down the line. His process may look different, but he doesn’t shame me for mine. He believes in me more than anyone I’ve ever met.

As he read his vows, I felt seen, like nobody else sees me. In that moment, it only mattered how he felt, and how I felt. Everyone else was just a spectator. A witness to our emotions.

We knew exactly what we were going through, sharing identical emotions. The words that we exchanged had a deeper meaning than they had just a week before.

Jake has been one of the first to love me in a way that can calm my raging storm. He didn’t see me as too much, he saw me as just what he needed. Our needs for what each other possessed, mirrored. He was water, and I was fire, a true cancer and Leo pair.

I have a dramatic flare for self expression, nobody would argue with that. It’s made me feel too much for some spaces. Too expressive, too emotional, too loud, too moody, overall, just too much.

My flare might as well have gone off like a rocket on my wedding day. My emotions a mystery to no one. The reality of my experiences only known by some, but my feelings felt by all.

Not everyone knows what to do with a woman so fragile, but my groom knew just how to keep me from burning out. The only thing I wanted most, to have one of the best nights of my life. And so it was, he made sure of it, even with some murmurs and judgements swirling in the air, he kept me safe from them wrapped up in love. Close to the ones who embraced my fullness and didn’t condemn me for my humanness is the thick of trauma.

My tears have always felt like an act of defiance. I’ve been told that my crying makes others uncomfortable. I’ve been told to calm down. Haven’t we all at least once? Does it ever help? Don’t they know that it’s better out than in? Including tears.

I can’t help the way in which the emotions erupts from my body. My eyes well up, and the tears spill over. I used to shift my breathing just to hold my tears in, not wanting to draw attention, to be questioned, to be told to stop crying. Why is it that tears of love are acceptable to cry, but tears of pain need to be hidden away?

The tears I cried on my wedding day were both tears of joy and pain. One falling on each cheek, side by side, always existing in unison.

Sharing my wedding photos feels like sharing that fragility. The stuff that some people would rather not see. The stuff that helps me find those with enough capacity to witness the depth of my emotions. The ugly parts. The people worth holding onto, because they aren’t scared of what they see, my pain is still mine after all.

After viewing the gallery I knew I couldn’t hold onto the images of me crying for only my viewing. When the time was right, I would share them. I knew sharing them would provide permission for another woman out there to feel, to be brave, to be on display, to dare to be judged, in all her glory.

Even with bags under my eyes due to very little sleep, and the zit on my cheek that will mock me every time I see these pictures, I still feel pretty. I still feel whole.

I am able to see the beauty in duality. To accept that things rarely go as we plan them. And give myself permission to still have a good time, even in uncertainty.

The tides changed at my wedding, and I let my expectations of others be swept away with it. It’s time to turn my focus to the ones who embrace my intensity and love me through the pain.