Well, it’s not exactly mid-engagement. It’s 262 days since getting engaged, and 30 days till the wedding. You do the math. But who’s counting? (Me, I’m counting months and days and weeks and seconds, don’t mind me, and today it’s one month away!)

So what does it feel like to be 89.7% of the way through my engagement? There are several primary emotions battling for top place, along with a plethora of secondary emotions because I am nothing if not an OVERTHINKER and OVERFEELER of life.

1. Excitement
2. Worry (these two are always battling for top place. Sometimes one wins, sometimes the other, depends on how many dark chocolate peanut butter cups I’ve had lately.)
3. Some assortment of nerves about having people look at me so much, anticipation for the fun parts of the day, guilt, stress, joy, and fuhleht is always there.

The first two are easily understandable: I’m so excited to marry Ian, and I’m so worried I’m not planning well enough for the wedding day. But perhaps you’re wondering why I would feel guilt, or what in the world “fuhleht” means.

First, I’m always feeling some grade of guilt about how far away my wedding is for all my family and most of my friends, and how much money they’re all having to spend to come for it, what with flights and hotels and food that is 1000% more expensive here. Not that they’ve complained about it at all; this is simply something I’ve taken upon my own shoulders to worry about, for whatever reason.

Second, “fuhleht”  (which I’m certain I spelled wrong but it’s hard to look up words in a non-written language) is a Pennsylvania Dutch word which has no direct translation in English, but which means that feeling when you know you should do something, but it’s just tooooo far or tooooo hard or whatever, so you sit on your couch and eat a dark chocolate peanut butter cup instead. Envision me procrastinating over a block of Trader Joe’s Port Salut cheese instead of finalizing my wedding timeline, and that’s fuhleht.

As we reach the 1 month mark, excitement is heading up the list of feelings more and more, excitement that so soon I’ll get to see my whole family, and so soon I’ll get to spend the morning with my bridesmaids eating quiches and chilling, and so soon I’ll get to say my vows (which I have yet to write) to Ian and actually be a whole wife, and so soon I get to spend a couple weeks off work and lie on a beach reading in the sun, with all the stresses of the past ten months behind me. You want to know something funny and very Rachel? When I got engaged, one of the first things I bought for this era was not a dress or a venue or anything, but a book to take on my honeymoon, and I have been astutely avoiding reading it since then. Can’t wait to crack it open!

My natural tendency is not to lean into the excitement. To sound as Gen-Z as possible, I am a stressy girl. My natural tendency is to stress about the to-do list as long as my arm that I somehow need to accomplish in 29 days, to worry about how I’ll get through a whole day with hundreds of people looking at me, to feel guilty for allllll the people who are giving up their time and resources for this day, and to feel anxious about the inevitable hiccups that have arisen for which we do not yet have answers. I sit at work thinking about all the things I absolutely must do, then I go home too tired to do them, and stress that I’m not getting things done. Once an admin, always an admin, and it’s very hard to shut off the constant noise in my brain over this big event. That’s my default setting. I have long ago decided to absolutely make myself not care on the wedding day when things go wrong and to just roll with the punches, but on all the days leading up to it, boy, do I ever care.

But I am trying, really trying to savor this last month. To let go of my control freak tendencies about things getting done in the right timeline and to attempt enjoying being engaged. I’m trying to savor my quiet mornings (even though I hate mornings always and forever) where I can putter about the house without bumping into anyone else, and to spread myself across every corner of my bed while I still can. I’m watching romcoms instead of sports, when time permits. I’m eating lots of girl dinners and relishing wearing out my most hideous nobody-can-see-them clothes. I’m enjoying my solitary Sunday evenings where I unwind from the long day and gird up my loins for the week to come.

I’m also trying to focus my mind on how much fun it will be to be married. How amazing the day after will feel, knowing that I never have to plan a wedding again, and all the work of it is behind me. Those wonderful, wonderful two whole weeks off work when I’ve been absolutely dying for a little vacation time this year, and that delicious resort we booked. How fun it’ll be to make bacon and pancakes for an appreciative recipient on Saturday mornings. Having someone to take out the trash so I never have to again, and someone at home to cook me the occasional steak and wild rice dinner when I’m absolutely tuckered out from work. Having a hosting buddy for the dinner parties I long to throw, but feel too awkward to do alone. Having someone to take toot scoots with after dinner, and someone to watch Chicago Fire with, and someone to make me be sociable when my inner-hermit gets a little too pushy. Someone to fight with besides myself, and someone to make up with, and someone to take care of. It’ll be nice. As you can see, a lot of the things I’m looking forward to about marriage are food-related, but that’s because food should be shared and the saddest part of living alone is not building your own furniture and killing your own roaches, but never sharing your meals with someone. At least, that’s my experience.

And so, as I face my massive to-do list and call this vendor and set up that appointment and agonize for weeks over a decision that literally nobody cares about, I am also just so much looking forward to walking down that aisle in my hard-earned beautiful dress, and stuffing my face with cake afterward with you all, and spending my life annoying a husband who somehow chose to marry me, out of all the girls in the world. How lucky am I?

P.S. Have you RSVPed, you Philistine? HAVE YOU?