...Cont. from Part 1

Fast forward about a year. I was knee-deep in wedding magazines, living in an apartment that looked as if I had the contents of an entire Hobby Lobby strewn across my living room floor. I’d found some solace in wedding planning, deciding that I surely could make this event work out the way I envisioned. And naturally, I planned. And planned. And planned the heck out of this thing. I had binders and books and websites dedicated to my dream wedding. I filled the entire scope of my consciousness with swatches, pictures and sketches to form a road map for the “best day of my life.”

But of course, nothing ever turns out the way we plan, and I would eventually come to finally grasp that idea.

Some people have said that I seem older than my age. Personality profiles define me as a dreamer, a forward-thinker. Some days, this is a gift. But often times it's not.

I've always had a hard time being satisfied with the present, with seeing the beauty in the here and now. Even as a child, I had this sort of time-space wanderlust, always imagining what I could achieve and who I could be. Always reaching for what’s ahead, wanting to be older, wiser, more established. I wanted to be 24, the magic age when I for some unknown reason thought everything would come together—graduate college, get married, have children and be established with an incredible, fulfilling career in which I made the big bucks and everyone knew my name. 

Life would be perfect.