As I’ve aged, I’ve realized something important about myself—I can’t stand drama. Of any kind. I will never understand how some people seem to thrive on it. It causes nothing but heartache, ruins relationships, and leaves lasting wounds that don’t easily heal.
My last encounter with that kind of nonsense happened right before a family wedding. The bride, unfortunately, had transformed into a full-blown Bridezilla. She created chaos and anxiety for everyone around her, and I ended up on the receiving end of her wrath—for reasons I still don’t fully understand. Several of us were walking on eggshells around her, unsure what would set her off next. Those in her little clique wouldn’t even acknowledge us, like we were suddenly beneath them.
This all started about a week before the wedding. I could feel the tension, and since I knew she seemed upset with me, I reached out and asked if we could talk—to ease the situation, to understand. She refused. When I gently said, “Please,” she got inches from my face, made a twisted expression, and shook her head. I was stunned. Her reaction felt so personal, so unnecessarily cruel. We did not have that talk.
The rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding was no better. Tension hung in the air like a storm about to break. A younger family member quietly confided in me that she had been treated poorly by the bride as well. I wasn’t alone, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Then came the wedding day. I arrived early, or so I thought. But when I got there, the ceremony was already in progress. I panicked, thinking I had somehow gotten the time wrong. Later, two other guests told me the bride and groom had decided to start early to have a “special” ceremony with just the people who had “supported them the most.”
I was floored. I had always thought of myself as a close family member, and to be excluded like that hurt deeply. I felt like I had been punched in the chest. I didn’t want to cry right there, so I stepped away to pull myself together, planning to return for the rest of the event.
But when I came back, another family member confronted me. She was angry that I had left, assuming I was being rude or dramatic. I tried to explain, told her my feelings were hurt and that I needed a moment to compose myself. I asked if we could just table the conversation so we could enjoy the wedding.
She didn’t want to hear it. Without knowing the full story, she lit into me—angry, judgmental, and unwilling to listen. At that point, I left the event completely.
Since that day, we have rarely spoken. I did try to reach out once, hoping we could talk things through, but she shut me down immediately. She told me I was in the wrong, and that she didn’t want to see me again unless I apologized to the bride.
The thing is… I still don’t know what I’m supposed to apologize for. I’ve replayed the events in my head a hundred times, and while I wish things had gone differently, I don’t believe I did anything intentionally hurtful.
So, I stepped back. I’m not angry. I’m not bitter. Still, questions remain. Now what? Should I just let it go? Or is their silence the answer to my inquiry?
Tales of a Family 