Earlier this summer, I delivered the Best Man’s speech at a magnificent, storybook wedding on Italy’s Amalfi Coast. I truly relished the distinctive challenge of crafting the speech, managing to intertwine sentimentality with suggestive humor. The panoramic vista from a Ravello rooftop left me awestruck. However, by my eighth Aperol Spritz, I found myself in the kind of existential contemplation common for many “midults” like myself. As the poolside dance floor filled, I was burdened by a feeling of stagnation. While happy for my friends and honored to participate in their special day, I became acutely aware of my own circumstances.
A year prior, I had been laid off from my position at a technology magazine. Although I’ve managed to make a respectable living as a freelance journalist and copywriter since then, the fluctuating income is a stark contrast to the stability I had envisioned for my 30s. Mortgage lenders are hesitant with the self-employed. I lack paid vacation or sick leave. So, as my partner and I toasted glasses and danced under the moonlight, with our own wedding just months away to plan and finance, I was consumed by guilt over not having a more secure foundation.
I feel I should be further along by now. I should be more established. These are worries I contend with on most days. But weddings tend to amplify them.
Don’t misunderstand me, there are elements of weddings I appreciate: the chance to reconnect with old friends, moving toasts, and ideally, an open bar. There are others I have to mentally prepare myself for: wearing a suit in oppressive heat, Journey’s hit song Don’t Stop Believin’, and the painful self-reflection triggered by that seemingly innocent yet loaded question from other guests: what are you doing these days?
Weddings, in my experience, usually follow a predictable pattern. They presume constant forward movement. People generally only want you to share positive news: think new baby, career advancement, or plans for your next home renovation.
If you can’t offer such updates, small talk becomes difficult. Yet, avoiding weddings isn’t really an option. I’m not unemotional. I care. Despite my personal frustrations, I deeply value my friends, and I don’t want to absent myself from the happiest moments of their lives simply because I’m still sorting out my own.
Therefore, with a few more weddings still to attend this summer, I’ve devised a four-part strategy for how I can get through them—with my self-respect and spirit intact.
Firstly, I need to remember that it’s not a competition. People achieve success at varying stages in life. Sir James Dyson worked on 5,127 prototypes before launching the first Dyson vacuum cleaner at 46. Julia Donaldson did not publish The Gruffalo until she was 50. Colonel Sanders founded KFC after retirement.
Secondly, I want to acknowledge my own achievements. Whether related to my profession or fitness, I’m going to congratulate myself when it’s deserved. Every article I write for a major publication is something my teenage self would be thrilled about. Achieving a new personal best at Parkrun is also worthy of commendation. According to recent studies, engaging in just 20 seconds of daily self-affirming talk can lead to significant improvements in wellbeing and stress reduction.
Thirdly, I’m going to establish an early exit strategy. Not every wedding requires my presence on the dance floor until midnight. I’m going to allow myself to be more mindful of my time. I’ll stay for as little or as long as I feel capable of handling.
Finally, I’m going to enrich my pre-wedding schedule. I’m going to schedule in the small activities that rejuvenate me: a long walk, a good book, a trip to the cinema, or dinner with someone who truly understands what I’m going through.
Emotional resilience is real, and if weddings are marathon events, it’s crucial to prepare beforehand. It’s vital that I’ve had a couple of months or weeks leading up to a wedding filled with activities I enjoy, so the day doesn’t feel like a harsh highlight of a stagnant period.
I don’t believe any of these suggestions are foolproof. I’m sure there will still be moments that affect me deeply—like a speech that sounds like a blueprint for the life I thought I’d have by now. But I am determined that when I encounter these moments, I will do so with more composure and tranquility than I have in the past.
I will attend more weddings before I’ve completely figured things out. I’ll applaud; I’ll shed tears; I’ll offer thoughtful gifts. I’ll also quietly acknowledge that life doesn’t progress in perfect harmony—and that’s perfectly fine.
Looking back, that evening in Italy was both challenging and delightful. Excellent pasta helped. While weddings often underscore the irregular rhythms of life, they are also moments when we feel most connected—not because we’ve “arrived,” but because we’ve chosen to be present nonetheless.