The lull in planning


While wedding planning takes up a lot of my mental capacity, there isn’t often enough to discuss here, especially when I’m still working hard to get my degree finished.

Speaking of.

A few times, when I’ve mentioned to a prof or another student that I’m getting married, I sense their eyes rolling in the back of their heads. I can’t blame them. The notoriety of an MRS degree makes it something that I can’t imagine anyone aspiring to. And yet, I sometimes feel like people think there is no other reason to get married except to get the MRS degree and successfully never have to be an independent, self-supporting person again.

(Note, I’m not getting an MRS degree. I am and will continue to be a Ms. Also, deBoer. Won’t change. Post on that someday maybe?)

Personally, I plan to always be an independent, if not self-supporting person. (I do acknowledge that my degree doesn’t leave me the most employable person in the world. Fingers crossed I can find a job…) I don’t appreciate my five-year sentence of essays, evaluation, criticism, and lost creativity being dismissed on the merit of my choice to get married.

On the other hand, I’ve had people dismiss my choice to get married as unimportant as well. In explaining to a prof why I switched out of his class at the beginning of this semester, I made the mistake of mentioning the stress wedding planning was going to put on me on top of everything else. He didn’t even bother to hide the eye roll as he dismissed it and continued to try to convince me to stay in a class I was mostly just uninterested in.

I identify myself as a student. But I also identify myself as a fiancee. School is my job, a job I happen to enjoy, most of the time. And M is a huge part of my future. I’m working on balance. I will achieve it.

When I am married, I will still love to read, I will still love to learn. I will still be as good a friend I can be. I will still shop at Value Village, I will still love my cat. I will still love to sing loudly in church. I will still play piano, cook shepherd’s pie, and write snippets of bad poetry in the margins of paper.

But I’ll be married. And things will be wonderfully different.

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