In the immediate aftermath of getting married, many couples find themselves navigating an intriguing emotional landscape. For some, the newlywed phase is imbued with a profound sense of contentment and relief, as though the stress and anticipation of wedding planning have finally lifted. Others, however, experience a subtler, less discussed reaction often referred to as the ‘post-wedding blues’—a faint melancholy that arises once the long-anticipated celebration has ended. Personally, I managed to sidestep both extremes altogether, not by careful emotional preparation, but because I had scarcely any time to process my feelings in the first place. Within just three weeks of exchanging vows, I had not only sold my house and handed in my resignation but also relocated from the United Kingdom to start an entirely new chapter of life in France.
While I had often envisioned the experience of being engaged and orchestrating the details of a wedding when I was younger, I certainly could not have foreseen doing so while simultaneously managing some of life’s other most stressful turning points. Yet despite juggling these overlapping, life-altering commitments, my husband and I never succumbed to tensions or arguments. Maintaining such harmony during a time of upheaval reassured me that our partnership was resilient and anchored by shared goals.
Our engagement stretched to just under 18 months, which afforded us time to think strategically. Since I have always delighted in design, order, and the art of hosting, it was only natural that I assumed responsibility for planning the wedding. We opted not to hire a professional planner, both to maintain personal control and because the process itself genuinely intrigued me. Nevertheless, my husband did not simply retreat into passivity. He embraced responsibility for the enormous administrative burden involved in our international move, a fair division given that the relocation was prompted by his career.
We quickly decided when and where the wedding would take place, settling on a June Saturday—a date highly sought after and therefore one that demanded early booking of venues and suppliers. Enthusiasm propelled me to secure our key vendors almost immediately. Once those foundational decisions were made, there was an interim period where momentum slowed, as we awaited the time to finalize smaller details such as catering menus and musical selections. Still, I used even this lull productively, completing practical tasks like purchasing toiletries to stock restroom boxes for our guests.
Interestingly, the stress I encountered never truly originated from wedding planning itself. Rather, the strain came from attempting to manage everything else happening in parallel and from realizing how these demands reduced the mental energy I could dedicate to enjoying the wedding preparations fully. In hindsight, however, that circumstance concealed a hidden advantage. By being unable to obsess exclusively over each wedding detail, I avoided the risk of being consumed by minutiae.
One of the most complex challenges was deciding the fate of our home in the UK. Initially, I was resistant to the idea of selling. I feared that engaging with the drawn-out process of property transactions would detract from the joy of celebrating our marriage. Yet practical considerations prevailed. Renting did not make financial sense, and we had no pressing desire to return to either the house itself or its location in the future. Accepting the sale became the logical choice, though orchestrating the sale alongside a wedding date and a fixed move abroad proved immensely complicated. The unpredictable nature of real estate transactions—such as the uncertainty of receiving offers or completing the required legal steps—added unwelcome volatility. The situation intensified when, barely a month before our wedding, the property we had anticipated moving into in France unexpectedly became unavailable. By a stroke of fortune, my husband was in France at the time and could rush to new viewings, all while I attempted to coordinate additional arrangements remotely, navigating this ordeal even during a friend’s bachelorette weekend back in the UK.
Soon, I conceded that not every variable could be controlled, and relinquishing that expectation alleviated some pressure. Although circumstances dictated that we vacated our British home sooner than preferred, the situation remained manageable and, most importantly, temporary.
Relocation also necessitated a professional transformation for me. Moving abroad required me to resign from my full-time role at Business Insider, which seemed fortuitous in another sense: it created the opportunity to finally pursue a freelance career. Ideally, I would have liked to spend weeks cultivating professional connections, arranging meetings, and laying groundwork for future work before the move. Unfortunately, time simply did not permit such preparation. Confronted with an overwhelming schedule, I had to prioritize ruthlessly and accept that some ambitions would be postponed. Even small lifestyle adjustments—such as reducing nightly television from two episodes to one—freed surprising amounts of time for essential tasks.
I remained employed for as long as possible, timing my resignation to align precisely with our departure. On my final day of work, I closed my laptop and immediately began the long drive toward our new life in France. For much of this period, it felt less like we were thriving and more like we were enduring, pushing ourselves forward until a new equilibrium emerged. The real turning point, we believed, would come after checking off the monumental trio of events: celebrating the wedding, finalizing the sale of the house, and establishing ourselves abroad.
Yet life rarely unfolds with such neat resolution. The transition has been blessed with fulfilling and joyful aspects, but it has also carried challenges—most notably, a greater degree of culture shock than we had anticipated. Still, viewed as a whole, the changes represent a sequence of positive milestones compressed into a remarkably short timeframe. I recognize with gratitude the privilege of being able to make such bold shifts, and despite the exhaustion, I feel profoundly fortunate.
In the end, there is a quiet, restorative beauty in finding balance again—in our case, savoring the simple acts of unwinding under the sun of southern France, a glass of rosé in hand and fresh bread on the table. It is, perhaps, the most idyllic way to decompress after a whirlwind of love, career changes, property negotiations, and international relocation.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/got-married-sold-house-quit-job-moved-abroad-3-weeks-2025-9
