Marriage/Relationships
A Perfect Wedding Couldn’t Save My Relationship
We were all trying to keep the things swept under the rug firmly in place.
Rustling palm trees. Floral aromas floating on the breeze. A looming pink sunset emerges from the horizon.
This was the scene for my first wedding.
My parents were there. My closest friends were there. I had my hair done. I had my makeup done. I even wore a matching flower in my hair.
My wedding outfit only cost about $100. It was simple, bohemian. I may have even taken a puff from a joint before the ceremony. That was island life. It was Key West, Florida after all.
My memories of this day play out like some sort of fairytale nostalgia. However, the relationship and marriage that followed were anything but that. It was a nightmare of abuse and sorrow.
I married my first husband in Key West, Florida, in a historic, garden setting. The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch. My parents were even able to fly in from Canada and my three best friends were my bridesmaids.
The after-party was lovely and there was so much laughter. Our three-day honeymoon in Key Largo which directly followed was pretty great as well.
Looking back at the pictures now, I was glowing that day. We all were. We were all trying to make it a positive experience.
We were all trying to keep the things swept under the rug firmly in place.
The best memories I have of my first marriage are from that day — that beautiful day which was a golden page in the darker book of an abusive relationship and marriage.
How can a wedding ceremony masquerade as something so lovely when something dark and sinister lies directly underneath?
I believe it is simply the hopes of all of those who loved me that day. I think that everyone — my family, my friends, and those who showed up to support me despite their hesitations about the union brought an energy that attempted to turn the tides of what was undoubtedly a doomed partnership.
Ultimately, a wedding is supposed to be a celebration of a relationship — no matter how sick or dysfunctional that relationship may be under the surface.
Those who attend weddings are generally expected to come with their best wishes for the couple getting married — even if they don’t feel it. It’s kind of an unspoken rule of wedding etiquette.
That said, I’m pretty sure almost everyone who attended my first wedding knew it wouldn’t work out. I might have been one of them underneath my naivety and hope blanket.
But that day was magical. It mattered. It was an intention to make it work — to do better.
But the relationship didn’t last.
My second wedding was even more simple than my first. It wasn’t that magical. It took place at a City Hall in a small desert town. We had a one-year-old who cried for the entire ceremony and we barely had a honeymoon. It wasn’t exotic. It was messy. We struggled to make it through the pictures before my daughter had a massive meltdown.
However, the marriage I have now — my second one — is more true and fulfilling than my first marriage could ever have been — despite the absence of the Fuschia sunset, the bright smiles, and the generous well wishes of everyone who cared about me at the wedding.
There is also the absence of violence, sadness, and dysfunction.
I will always think back fondly to my first wedding ceremony. It was a leap of faith in an impossible situation. It represented hope. It displayed beauty. Even though the marriage was a mistake.
Sometimes our mistakes look gorgeous on the outside as we are making them. And then there are the disheveled decisions we make that feel messy and unkept — yet they end up being the healthiest choices we ever make.
Want more articles from me? Keep scrolling.
Still here? You can show your love for my writing by leaving me a tip, contributing monthly, or buying me a random glass of wine on my Ko-fi page! Thank you!
Oh, by the way, I also have a podcast about being a stepmom. Check it out if you’re interested.
You can support me over at my ko-fi with a quick tip or a monthly contribution of your choosing… ;)