October’s arrival is the bell that tolls the reality of the fact that I’m getting married. In a year. And nothing is planned.

I may have mentioned this here before, but I’m not a “wedding-oriented” person. Or even an event-oriented person. I skip the company picnic and the school dance. I’ve always been more of a fringe character, someone who has delighted in observing rather than partaking.

This is different, though. Balancing social expectations with familial obligations with personal desires seems like a disaster in the making. How do I reconcile wanting a traditional bridal shower and getting all the gifts with NOT walking down the aisle, writing my own tear-inducing vows with potentially taking my husband’s last name? How do I reconcile my life-long passionate feminism with my legitimate desire for a life that enacts traditional gender roles?

My wedding has unofficially been dubbed “Indecision 2016” because it’s the only way I can describe it. I know what colors I want to incorporate into the décor, but I don’t know when the hell this event is even going to take place. September? November? Tomorrow? Never?

I’m so fortunate that every day, even in my worst moments, I can glance at my left hand and know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am loved, valued, and protected. All I want is an occasion that reflects the warmth and happiness I feel every day. The Wedding Industrial Complex doesn’t seem to promote the values that matter most to me.

My 8-year-old niece said, hilariously, tonight at dinner, “It’s her wedding, let her do whatever she wants!” As wonderful as that sounds, I wonder how authentic I can be to myself, when evil forces like “money” and “family” come into play.

I’m sure everything will work out. I’m determined not to get stressed out or become a Bridezilla.

How could anything that makes me this happy be bad?