I can't even make a turkey sandwich without losing my shit today. Sobbing like a frickin' lunatic over a jar of mayo.
I'm officially unfollowing all the wedding porn sites. No more dresses, flowers, inspiration, blah blah blah. Nothing with tons of pictures of cool weddings that I'm not going to have. I'm not even trying to plan a wedding so why pretend that reading those blogs is doing anything other than making me angry and depressed at a time when I've got a lot of important things to be angry and depressed about.
What's worse is that I think I'm actually beginning to agree with my mother. That we're not really engaged. No ring, not real. I'd be crazy to plan a wedding. We're a damn mess anyways, constantly fighting and snarking and flipping out because I don't have a job and I keep getting rejected and holy shit how are am I supposed to pay all these bills and why am I still home everyday with nothing to show for it? I can't believe that I'm being that girl. I can't believe that I let this turn so bad.
H and I were joking the other day that our engagement doesn't really count. That we should have a do-over. Except that I don't think either of us was really joking. I think our engagement ended when I called off the January wedding. And I think I really fucked up and I'm totally trapped by it - just spirally down this bottomless pit of bad decisions and bad timing and bad luck that's become self-perpetuating.
I missed my appointment for my second dress fitting to test the bustle and pick up my veil. And I haven't rescheduled officially (tentatively November 16th) because I don't know if there's a reason to pick up the dress. I don't want to put it on again and pretend that I'm planning a wedding when I know that I'm not. The dress has become my own personal symbol for everything that I can't have and can't give to H. I can't imagine our wedding anymore. The idea doesn't make me happy, just like a failure. I've been a pretty shitty girlfriend this year and an even shittier fiancee.
We don't need to plan a wedding. We need a therapist.
Or at least I do.