One Month Post-Marriage

Yesterday marked one month of being Mrs. Jillanne Fay Bowler-Veltman. The feeling continues to be surreal. I continue to wander my way through this new territory of relationship statuses, trying to soak in what it all means - or what it doesn't.

Marriage Means a Mental Shift in Your Relationship

Marriage so far has made me feel mentally closer to my husband. Our honeymoon - one week of absolute bliss in the presence of each other, and on my part, away from all contact with anyone else I knew outside of a few phone calls to my parents - meant that we embraced being with each other, and only each other, for a whole week. When we returned from the honeymoon, neither Jon or I felt the need to go and socialize with our regular contacts - we were fulfilled in life existing just with the two of us. 

I've been selfish about my wedding photos. I know people were there, and saw everything that happened. Yet, part of me wants to reserve my marriage - including the wedding - to myself. I want to bask in the glory that is our love, and I feel like I desensitize myself to that feeling the more I share our photos. This is the first time in my life I haven't wanted to share my exciting moments with social media.

It's not that being married suddenly made me love my husband more. It's that being married made my plans for my future with him a reality. I'm not saying everyone needs to get married to feel committed to each other - I felt committed to Jon within weeks of knowing him. If marriage isn't your thing...well, you probably haven't read this far into this blog post. However, what I'm saying is that for me, marriage changes my mind frame. I have committed to spending my life with this man, and I have publicly announced our relationship is worth the effort - every effort - that is required for that lifetime. And he has too. So as long as that effort is there on both ends, being a wife feels fantastic and makes me want to swallow him in tiny pieces so that he can live inside of me.

*Ahem* Onto part two...

Marriage Doesn't Change Your Relationship

The best advice I got on my wedding day came from a friend who just got married in August of 2015. I asked him "so what is married life like?" And he responded "It's the same. Be prepared for a whole lot of the same". And you know what? I am okay with this.

You shouldn't marry a person because you're hoping for marriage to change your relationship. You should marry them because you like the way things are and want to keep what you have.

Being married means we still have small and petty arguments. It means we continue to sit on the couch some nights, being complete zombies and staring at a screen. It means I still get annoyed that Jon puts the teaspoons and tablespoons in the same compartment in the drawer. And it means that he still gets annoyed when I let our coffee table get cluttered with ignored mail and empty envelopes.

Being married also means we still make breakfast together when we have a morning off. It means we still enjoy walking the dogs together on sunny days. It means we still say "I love you" every night before bed. It means we still have amazing conversations we wouldn't have with anyone else - often keeping us up way too late. And it means that we continue to encourage each other to stay on track with our goals.

I'm okay with things staying the same. I can't wait for the same forever.

Is it Selfish to Enjoy Doing Acts of Selflessness?

This is Buddy. A month ago, we made the decision to foster Buddy permanently. "Permanent foster" sounds like an oxymoron, but that's what she is. Buddy will be 17 in September, so the rescue she was surrendered to isn't putting her up for adoption, but she needs a retirement home, and that's what we'll be. She spent her first night here yesterday.

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Sometimes I question whether or not I'm a good person. I know nobody can be perfect, and trust me, I've got some faults. I'm not very good at confrontation and come off passive aggressive, I can be too judgmental, and I generally don't trust others.

Then there's all the good things I do. I volunteer. A lot. In the past, I've volunteered for the Canadian Cancer Society, a learning disabilities center, The United Way, a kids summer camp, seniors lodges, The Sexual Assault Center of Edmonton and as a photographer for a Remembrance Day ceremony. I currently volunteer for my community league, Elf Anonymous, and The Greater Edmonton Animal Rescue Society (where we got Buddy).

Volunteering is a complex addiction of mine. I don't expect accolades for anything I do. I become involved with the causes I feel strongly towards. I believe in strong communities and neighbourly bonds. I believe in giving seniors validation of their existence when life gets lonely. And I believe that animals are pure creations of the Universe that deserve kindness and the experience of love at least once in their lives. I volunteer for all these things because sitting idly and choosing to do nothing where I can help create change in one aspect of the world is not an option.

The addicting part of volunteering is where things confuse me. I'm addicted to the feeling I get from volunteering. It makes me feel, and believe, that I am a good person. When I volunteer and realize that I am slowly contributing to something that feels like how the world is supposed to be, I feel really good about myself. I am mighty, I am powerful, and I am a really nice person.

Is it selfish to feel this way? Am I volunteering for the wrong reasons? Isn't volunteering supposed to be 100% selfless? You aren't supposed to give yourself credit for doing work that isn't supposed to be about you, right?How am I supposed to be doing a selfless act when it makes me feel so good about myself in the end? Doesn't that mean that it's no longer "selfless" and now I am just doing it for the "selfish" reasons?

These are all questions I have to ask myself when I get the "activist high". At some point, I tell myself to calm down, and that - no matter the reason I take on these hats - at least the job is being done. Because doing is better than ignoring.

Does that still make me a good person? I'm not sure, but I do know Buddy is happily settling into our home.

Total Acceptance: Sleeping on Church Floors

I've learned over time to not blog about the politics of the world, or the battle there is over which religions create terrorism (a fallacy of an argument in my opinion, but I'm not here for that), or even to talk about religion in general.

Today, I'm going to talk about a memory. You see, there was a time when I slept on a church floor for two nights. Willingly, not out of desperation, and not out of religious conviction either.

The Sudbury Church

I was travelling with a group of strangers-cum-housemates. We were living in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario and wanted to experience the vast province before leaving it. We decided to travel towards Sudbury, Ontario to tour a few momentous parts of Canadian history. There was one catch: we didn't have any money for a hotel. 

It never dawned on me that I might not be welcome to sleep on a Church floor. I don't think a single one of my housemates outwardly practiced religion. We didn't live up to Christian values: marijuana, under-aged drinking, and sex before marriage were common ideals held in that house. Yet, I still took to the phone book and called churches in Sudbury in order of alphabetical listing to see if any of them might have a space we could lay our heads down at night.

Dale Pepin

I don't actually know the name of the church Dale was affiliated with. This man was, and is, the coolest pastor I've ever met in my life. He not only considered my proposition, but was excited to have a group of unruly barely-legal adults sleep in the basement of his church with the keys in our possession. He was thrilled to see young people actually interested in exploring their country, and furthermore, his city within it. I don't know if he asked if we were a religious group - I might have initially told him we weren't - but he didn't care.

And here's the thing:

He didn't ask if any of us were gay.

He didn't ask if any of us were not Caucasian.

He didn't ask if any of us were religious - Catholic, Muslim, Flying Spaghetti Monster, it didn't matter.

He only asked us how long we wanted to stay for.

And then he Gave us The Best Time of Our Lives

I'll confess: I washed my hair in a bathroom sink of a Church with stained glass windows. I thought, we were just staying for a few nights, we were staying out of everyone's hair, and washing my hair in their sink might have been tacky, but at least I was clean.

That was before Dale's entire ministry (is it called a ministry?) made a breakfast in our honour, following Church service. "To welcome our guests who have chosen our Church as part of their experience within Sudbury", he said. Or something to that effect - I don't have the greatest memory for verbatim.

That was also before I found out that Dale was the coolest pastor ever, and had a side-gig of acting. He gave us free tickets to his play that night: The King and I, which is still my favourite play to date.

Dale was the most welcoming, friendly, and passionate individual I had met. He let a group of strangers sleep on his floor, he fed them, and he welcomed them into his world.

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I admit I still don't attend church, and I don't know much about religion. But what I do know is that I'll never forget Dale Pepin. Because as one of my seldom introductions to religion and the way it shapes you, Dale was the person who, above all his own personal beliefs and values, the one that mattered the most to him was being a good person.

What I Learned on May 28 2016

Marriage is very, very, very new to me. So I'm not going to pretend I know a single thing about it. May 28 2016 is still a blur to me. I remember everything in such intricate detail, that it's started to unfold like a book in my brain. Prologue: eight months of planning, asking questions, asking for help. Chapter One: getting ready in my parents basement. Chapter Two: the ceremony. Chapter Three: family time taking photos. Chapter Four: pancakes for dinner. Chapter Five: our first dance. Epilogue: honeymoon in Hawaii. Yet, the entire meaning of it all continues to look fuzzy to me. I can't wait to figure it all out. 

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This is what I learned so far from my wedding:

1. You are More Loved Than People Let On

Every single person in the room was genuinely in love with our love. I felt the contagion spread from the minute I started walking down the aisle. 

I was expecting a few funny speeches, telling embarrassing stories about me and my husband, and not much more. Yet, everyone who came on stage genuinely expressed some form of love for us either as individuals or a couple. The amount of open mic speeches that took place at our wedding floored me. One in particular, from a friend I've known since kindergarten had me repeating her words for days, pondering over what moved her to overcome her fear of public speaking just to proclaim how much our friendship meant to her. For the record, it means the world to me, too.

2. People Help you because they want to, Not because you'll owe them

I had a really hard time asking people for help for the wedding. Out of 90 guests, I estimated about 30 of them helped us in some way, either right from the beginning, or for the midnight cleanup and little things that happened during the reception. I fully expected to pay each of them for their services, and thought nobody would help me if I didn't offer them some form of compensation. Over and over again, I was turned down for payment, free booze, or even the notion of "you don't have to get me a wedding gift if you do this for me". I realized over time that people just wanted to be part of such a momentous day for me and my husband. And I realized, over time, that I probably would have done the same for them. 

I remain eternally grateful to the helpers.

3. Parents Keep Everything

Ten years ago, I wrote a letter to my father. On my wedding day, he read that letter to everyone. It was laminated. I don't think there was a dry eye in the building.

4. There's Really Nothing to Stress Over

I take pride in the fact that I was a "low maintenance" bride, and that I kept myself fairly level-headed throughout the planning process. However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have the jitters when I was all of 15 minutes late to my ceremony. I forgot to put the train down on my dress. Woops. The thing is, nobody noticed, and the night went on, and if anything went wrong, I was completely unaware of it and had the best time of my life.

I'm going to try to remember this the next time, on just a plain old regular day, I can't find a shirt that isn't wrinkled.

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My wedding was perfect, even if there were imperfections. My marriage is magical, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat - exactly the same way.