Daydreaming

I've had my wedding planned for years. A Hayley Paige dress, my grandmother's veil. Bridesmaids in burgundy. Bouquets of baby's breath and red snapdragons. Fairy lights everywhere. And as much as my friends and family disagree, I will have a Pinterest worthy "unfrosted" cake because frosting is overrated anyway.

It is easy for me to plan my wedding. Hell, I've been glazing over in math classes and envisioning it since seventh grade. It is harder, I have found, to find someone to marry, but that's a story we've all heard one too many times. My point right now is, simply, daydreaming is nice.

Daydreaming is what I do to ease my anxiety. When I can feel my heart beating so fast that I think I might die. And my whole body is tense. When situations get too intense or confusing or someone raises their voice. That's when I stop and ask myself how I'll decorate my New York brickstone for Christmas in 2025. I'm thinking white lights for the tree. Maybe some sparkly red bows? But definitely no tinsel.

However, In 2025 I won't have a New York brickstone. I'll, most likely, never have a New York brickstone. There's a good chance that I'll never get married either. But it's comforting to plan a future of dreamy floral arrangements and twinkly lights than to process the fact that the holidays this year have a forecast of tension and tears. A terrible combination, but a tried and true family tradition.

The unfortunate downside to daydreaming is that eventually I have to pause and realize that none of it is real. I wish I wasn't so good at it sometimes. It tends to make shitty situations worse. Knowing that I am hopeful of a wedding day and a christmas day that I'll never have makes the reality that I was escaping in the first place even bleaker.

It's not always a dream of grand days. Sometimes I'm hopeful for an average day. One where nothing goes wrong. Where that feeling of tears welling up in my eyes or my voice being caught in my throat is distant and foggy. I'd wear my favorite outfit. One that I like so much that I dread taking it off at the end of the day. A day spent in a coffee shop. Spent with a good friend and a dog -- definitely a dog.

I've come close to those days before. Those average, yet perfect days. Probably even had a few. They're rare, but incredible. Yet I don't even realize how incredible they were until I have bad day. A day where I have to change my outfit three times because nothing feels right. And I'm so tense that I shake without realizing it. Those are the days that I spend wishing, hoping, and dreaming of a beautifully average day.