What makes wedding stress worse? Moving house
Undertaking two of life’s most stressful events within the space of a fortnight may not be recommended by anyone sane, writes Katy Hall, but somehow it happened anyway.
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It’s often said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
But I’d hazard whoever came up with that theory never tried moving house a week before getting married.
For decades now, studies from around the world have shown that the stress of moving house is on par with getting divorced or the loss of a loved one. When Australia’s growing rental market, competitive pricing structure, and short-term lease periods are taken into account, on its own you’ve got an incredibly overwhelming pre-Christmas undertaking.
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Add to that a wedding — another one of life’s greatest financial and emotionally stressful events — taking place a little over seven days later, and you’ve essentially got a recipe for disaster.
Still, at the time of making what I now realise to be one of the worst decisions of my adult life, it seemed doable. Sure, we’d have to be extra careful when packing away the wedding rings. And okay, maybe we wouldn’t have every box unpacked when we returned from our honeymoon. But two big life items checked off the list were nothing a honeymoon couldn’t fix, right? Head down, bum up, packing tape at the ready, I reasoned.
Whatever reservations my boyfriend had (understandably, there were many) we decided to dive head and make it happen, my delusional optimism leading the way.
And all of this might have actually been pulled off without a hitch were it not for life getting in the way and throwing a series of unfortunate events into the mix the minute we signed the lease to our new home and made the final payment to our wedding venue.
First, a major work project landed on my boyfriend’s lap, meaning the moving day itself fell to me — a person with no body strength or co-ordination to speak of — some friendly removalists, and a cocker spaniel who decided that “helping” was digging up the backyard of our new home.
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Then, my wedding dress got ruined.
“I haven’t been able to get that drink stain off the front, but otherwise it looks pretty good,” the dry cleaner told me down the phone six weeks after having dropped it off to be ironed or steamed or whatever the hell it is one does with silk.
“Ah, what drink stain?” I asked trembling. “It’s never been worn.”
Several emails about secret stains unnoticeable to the naked eye followed, as did a three-day-long stress migraine and the hunt for an emergency replacement dress. All between calls to internet and electricity providers and house cleans and final inspections and bond refund forms changed hands.
Then there were parties. All staff Christmas parties and team Christmas parties and hen’s parties and buck’s parties and dinners with both sides of the merging families meeting one another and parties with mates who weren’t going to make it to the wedding but wanted to say hi and bye before they jetted overseas and far, far away from our orbit of self-made chaos.
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Amid all of this, relatives from interstate and overseas have began rolling in for the big day, walking into our half lived-in, mostly still unpacked new home, looking around grimly while trying to find something positive to say about the mess of newspaper and boxes that covered every surface in sight.
And it’s only now that I realise that insanity isn’t trying the same thing repeatedly, or even moving house the week before getting married. Insanity is simply not eloping in the first place.
Katy Hall is a writer and producer for RendezView. @katyhallway.