Freaking out or something like it

So I'm freaking out. Preparations for Union '07 are going smoothly enough, and yet, I am FREAKING OUT.

Apparently, I want to keep all of my stuff and stay in my ridiculously small one bedroom apartment and hug all of my care bears on my twin bed for the rest of my life. You wouldn't think that this would be true, but judging from the fifty times I cried and turned to Alex and said, "Are you SURE you want to marry ME!?!?!?!?!?!?," today, I think it's a distinct possibility.

And it's not like I'm not excited. I'm thrilled, THRILLED I tell ya, to be getting married. I had visions of becoming the crazy old lady with lots of cats for quite some time now, so I'm pleased that instead, I will be a part of the crazy old couple with too many dogs.

I've heard of girls having trouble combining their life with a man before, but I never thought that it'd affect me, because I am the girl who packed up and moved to Arkansas and then to Ohio all by my lonesome. And went to China by myself...because it'd be fun? So I've always viewed myself as kinda sorta adventurous. Which is why I am so surprised that I am not jumping up and down and throwing my earthly possessions at my future's husband's face and yelling, "Move it baby!"

Today, as I sat and folded clothes from circa 2000, I lost it and cried sad, sad tears into the black garbage bag that held my past fashion faux pas. Because that shirt! I wore it in college! Back when I was skinny and shy! Now I'm fat and sort-of-not-shy and what if I forget about a time when when I was skinny and shy and my biggest headache of the day was which homework assignment to do first? I can't do it! I can't find a fold in the time/space continuum and go back and recreate those heady, early days of school when the world was my oyster and I was going to make a difference, dammit! And this ugly shirt from Old Navy represents ALL of that and if I give it away in the black garbage bag of doom, then I will lose that part of me FOREVER and Goodwill will eat and not take care of it and hold its hand and caress it and make it feel special like I have made it special.

I never said I was logical. I probably should have mentioned that earlier.

Anyway, I suppose I just feel like I'm losing a part of myself. That the old Cora is going away and a new one is muscling her way in; a new Cora with a different last name and a different address and a ring on her finger. And while there is nothing wrong with those things, it just feels like....not me. I have found myself unable to easily balance our wants and desires when it comes to Alex's house. Because my pink bathroom accessories and approximately 20,000 care bears don't fit into Alex's manly bachelor pad of a house. I am afraid I will either become a shrew and demand that the house look like Cora's house only or acquiesce and the house will still look like Alex's only. But I feel so bad bringing my things into his home and have asked him numerous times if he liked it and was it okay and don't those bookshelves look better with actual books on them, right, right, right????

And this is not to say that Alex has not been the most phenomenal guy ever about the whole thing. He is in no way, shape, or form trying to change me or mold me or anything. Frankly, he doesn't care what enters this house, just as long as I come with it. (He gave me this speech while in the drive thru at Wendy's waiting for a Vanilla Frosty Float. No, that is NOT South Beach Diet approved.) So I could probably bring in a rainbow banner and hang it up on the bedroom wall and he'd make a face and look at me and when I said, "I have to have it or we can't live together," he'd go "Okay," and kiss me and there the banner would hang. Because he really is that awesome, people. It takes a special man to put up with my neurosis and he does it well.

So why am I freaking out? I've got an awesome fiance who puts up with all of my crap with a reassuring smile and hug, a dog who loves his dog, and a house waiting for me to put my decorative touch on it? Because in all of this, I have to find myself anew and make the old Cora work with the new Cora, who in turns works with Alex to make a happy home. And that my friends, is terrifying. It's difficult to let go and even more difficult when you're taking someone else into account. Good thing I've got 4 more months to figure this out in my head.

Until then, I'll be breathing into this brown paper bag if you need me.