It happened gradually at first, and then, seemingly overnight: my Instagram feed changed. The usual series of posts displaying the evolution of a party from dusk ’til dawn and holidays sustained by three-euro beers, was now a flurry of outstretched hands adorned with bright smiles and even brighter diamonds.
“We did a thing!” the caption yells at me, or “Easiest yes I’ve ever said!” and I wonder how that could possibly be true when Pet Nat exists in the world. Why is everyone suddenly getting married?
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I am ambivalent about marriage. I love my partner but I assume our togetherness: we’ve built a life in a new country together, we own a cat, and we plan for our future in two, five, and ten-year increments. Then again, if we intend to be together forever, what’s my problem with a piece of paper that offers tax breaks?
The trouble I have with marriage is that it scares me. Watching my parents get divorced instilled a level of cynicism around legally binding myself to another person. Divorce trauma notwithstanding, the feminist part of my brain also knows marriage to be an archaic institution and, not to be dramatic, the idea of changing the name I’ve had my entire life, the essence of my identity in many ways, sends me into an existential crisis.
Even with my conflicting feelings towards marriage, until recently, any news of an engagement – no matter how loosely connected I am to the couple – has been exciting. “I love love”, I’m wont to proclaim in an utterly sincere, ’90s rom-com kind of way. I become whipped into a frenzy around any newly engaged couples, quizzing them about their upcoming wedding: the flowers? A dress change? A mini-moon and then honeymoon later?
But recently, logic has failed to prevail over reason. After seemingly endless engagement announcements, my usual joy for others has become tarnished by a new, rancid taste in my mouth. My ego had convinced me I was above it all, until I wasn’t. I thought I was the friend who could genuinely celebrate others’ engagements without a hint of self-pity.
The truth I was forced to reckon with, as I sat watching my friends swap their sparkly rings while I did my best Bridget Jones impression, was that I’m not evolved. Nor am I beyond the self-comparison that each engagement seemed to bring.
Something snapped after weeks of stewing. I confronted my partner with the question that, unbeknownst to him, had been hovering between us: “Where is this all going?”
Instead of concern for this sudden change of tune, he met my anxiety with genuine curiosity. “What would change about our commitment to one another if we got married?” he asked. When all I could talk to was my desire for a nice dress and a party, which he pointed out we could do without the ‘I Do’ part, I realised I needed to self-reflect.
What equally comforted and disturbed me was how incredibly unoriginal my experience is. Despite knowing this, I hadn’t felt able to share these feelings until they essentially boiled over. Instead of publicising my innermost thoughts on the internet, I turned to Eileen Seah, a clinical psychologist who specialises in perfectionism, anxiety, and cross-cultural issues, to help me unpack what was going on.
“The feeling you are experiencing is most likely envy,” Eileen explains. “According to the work of [psychologist] Robert Leahy, envy is a universal social emotion focused on actual or perceived threats to status, such that another person’s ‘gain’ is viewed as a ‘loss’ for oneself.” Instead of recoiling from this assessment, I had to accept its confronting accuracy.
I ask Eileen why I might be experiencing an emotional response even though, personally, I’m unconvinced by the value proposition of marriage, and she points to internalised messaging. “What creates these anxieties is most likely the messages we’ve grown up hearing about marriage’s importance, especially to women: it being a rite of passage, a marker of moving to a new echelon of our development, status, and security,” she explains. “The perceived threat is residual of this messaging because we experience a lag between our head and our hearts.”
Eileen suggests practical strategies to move past this. First, we need to identify the sources of anxiety or envy, then, “We have to accept these feelings – not as resignation, but to make room for the experience rather than feeling ashamed” she says. Finally, “We need to deconstruct the status we attach to marriage.”
I asked Eileen to walk me through how to detatch status from the very concept of a ‘relationship status’. “Try to clarify your values,” she advises. “Differentiate between your values and societal expectations, then choose actions aligned with your authentic self.”
To do this, she suggests we can examine what exactly we value from the things we hold high status for, in this case romantic relationships. If we seek them out for connection, or to feel cared for and nurtured, we can find ways to cultivate these values in our lives as they exist today, whether through strengthening existing relationships or building community.
After my conversation with Eileen, my anxiety transformed into something resembling clarity. I’ve spent years measuring my life against an arbitrary yardstick of achievements, from school grades to relationship status updates. As I enter my thirties, I’m trying to learn to put down the yardstick and trust that my version of commitment – which manifests in my life in more ways than through one person and one dimension of love – is enough.
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This article Why does your engagement make me feel so bad? appeared first on Fashion Journal.
2025-02-14 04:52:00
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