I don’t feel married.

I mean…there are moments. Like the first time I referred to him as “my husband” in casual conversation. And the entire day I spent running around to change my name, even though that feels pretty normal now as well. And yes, the cramp in my hand from writing another batch of thank-you cards.

But otherwise…life goes on.

To me it says something lovely that one beautiful day served as a celebration of the life we are building rather than its definition. Our marriage began well before we met at the altar, in the lessons and experiences we’ve brought into this crazy wonderful life. Our families have already blended into a fantastic dysfunctional unit. We aren’t in-laws or outlaws, we just…are.

I don’t feel married…but I feel complete.


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