When Joy and Anxiety Share the Same Room: Finding Your Truth in Life's Biggest Moments

By Rose Degenhardt, MA, RCT, CCC

Registered Counselling Therapist | Founder & Clinical Director, Venture Counselling & Therapy

Inc.

Posted: October 22, 2026

Writing From Sussex, New Brunswick

Today, I'm writing from Sussex, New Brunswick, and my heart feels incredibly full.

In two days, on Saturday, October 24, my eldest son, Connor, is getting married to his beautiful fiancée, Taylor. Even writing those words feels emotional.

My son is getting married.

There are moments as a mother when time seems to fold in on itself. I can look at this grown man preparing to become a husband and somehow still see the little boy he once was. And now I get to watch him begin a family and a life of his own.

The overwhelming emotion I'm feeling is joy. So much joy. Pride. Excitement. Love. And, if I'm being completely truthful, some anxiety too.

Because human emotions rarely arrive one at a time.

Weddings Are Beautiful... and Busy

Anyone who has been involved in a wedding knows that the beautiful photographs don't capture everything happening behind the scenes.

There are decorations. Schedules. Clothing. Hair. Makeup. Food. Family arriving. Last-minute changes. Questions. Phone calls. Things that need to be picked up. People asking where they're supposed to be. And approximately 700 tiny details that suddenly seem extremely important.

We're preparing for one of the happiest days of Connor and Taylor's lives, and there is so much excitement surrounding us.

But even joyful stress is still stress.

Our nervous system doesn't necessarily distinguish between:

"Something terrible is happening!"

and:

"THERE ARE 14 THINGS I HAVE TO DO BEFORE SATURDAY!"

Our bodies can respond to both with racing thoughts, tension, difficulty sleeping, irritability, or that familiar feeling of being completely overwhelmed.

That's why even during the happiest seasons of life, we still need moments to regulate.

When the Room Holds History

There's another layer to weddings and major family events that we don't always talk about.

Sometimes a room filled with love is also a room filled with history.

Divorce changes families. It changes friendships. It changes relationships. And even when the two people who were actually married eventually find peace, sometimes the people around them continue carrying pieces of a story that no longer reflects where those two people are today.

My ex-husband and I have worked hard to remain good parents. We get along. We can celebrate our children together. And I'm genuinely grateful for that.

Our marriage ended, but our roles as Connor's parents didn't.

Yet divorce has taught me something interesting about people.

Sometimes people feel like there needs to be a villain. Someone must have been right. Someone must have been wrong. Someone must be blamed.

People take sides.

Relationships change. And sometimes you become aware that people have formed opinions about you based on a chapter of your life they experienced from the outside.

That can be uncomfortable.

What If Someone in the Room Doesn't Like Me?

This is where anxiety can become loud.

You walk into a room and wonder:

Who has heard what?

What do they think about me?

Are they judging me?

Will things feel awkward?

Do they even like me?

And if we're not careful, we can spend an entire meaningful event emotionally monitoring everyone else.

Their facial expressions. Who they talk to. Who they don't talk to. Whether someone said hello. How they said hello. What that look meant.

Suddenly, instead of experiencing the moment, we're analyzing the room.

Anxiety loves ambiguity.

When we don't know what someone is thinking, our brain sometimes fills in the blanks for us. And it rarely fills them in with:

"They're probably thinking wonderful things about me."

You Cannot Control the Version of You That Exists in Someone Else's Mind

This has been one of the harder lessons of adulthood for me.

I can know my intentions. I can know my mistakes. I can know the things I've apologized for. I can know what I've survived. I can know how I've grown. I can know the mother I've been. I can know the person I am today.

But I cannot control someone else's interpretation of my story.

And neither can you.

You can spend enormous amounts of emotional energy trying to correct every misunderstanding, defend every decision, explain every chapter, or convince someone that their perception of you is incomplete.

Or you can return to your own truth.

That doesn't mean refusing accountability.

Quite the opposite.

Healthy self-reflection means being able to acknowledge:

I have made mistakes.

I have hurt people.

People have hurt me.

There are things I would do differently today.

I have grown.

All of those things can exist together.

Your truth doesn't require you to pretend you've always been perfect.

It simply requires you to stop allowing someone else's perception to become your identity.

When Anxiety Makes You Insecure

Even knowing all of this doesn't mean I'm immune to insecurity.

I'm a therapist. I understand cognitive distortions. I understand anxiety. I understand nervous-system regulation.

And I can still walk into a situation and feel insecure.

That's human.

The difference is that I've learned to notice what's happening.

I can ask myself:

"Rose, what do you actually know right now?"

Not what do you fear.

Not what are you assuming.

Not what might someone possibly be thinking.

What do you know?

I know why I'm here.

I know I love my son.

I know I love Taylor.

I know this weekend isn't about old stories.

It's about their new one.

And that is where I want my attention to be.

Come Back to Your Truth

When anxiety starts pulling you into someone else's thoughts, try bringing yourself back with a few simple questions:

What do I know to be true?

What am I assuming?

Is there evidence for the story my anxiety is telling me?

Can I control what this person thinks about me?

What actually deserves my attention right now?

Then remind yourself:

"I don't need everyone in this room to understand me in order to enjoy being here."

That sentence can be incredibly freeing.

Find the Moment Inside the Busyness

I've also been reminding myself to slow down.

Because weddings go quickly.

We spend months planning them. Days preparing for them. Hours decorating. And then suddenly they're over.

I don't want to experience Connor and Taylor's wedding entirely through a checklist.

I want to notice it.

I want to watch my son's face when he sees Taylor.

I want to notice the people who came to celebrate them.

I want to hug my children.

I want to laugh.

I want to take pictures.

I want to watch my granddaughter.

I want to dance.

I want to have those little moments where I stop and think:

"Remember this."

Because that's what life is made of.

Not perfect events.

Moments.

Let Joy Be Louder

Anxiety doesn't always need to disappear before we can enjoy ourselves.

That's important.

Sometimes we wait to feel completely calm before allowing ourselves to be present.

But perhaps the goal isn't:

"I must get rid of this anxiety."

Maybe the goal is:

"The anxiety can come, but it doesn't get to be the main character today."

I can feel nervous walking into a room where I may not feel completely comfortable.

And I can be overflowing with love for my son.

I can experience insecurity.

And feel incredibly proud.

I can remember painful chapters.

And celebrate a beautiful new one.

Again, that powerful little word:

And.

A Wedding Is About the People Getting Married

This weekend doesn't belong to divorce.

It doesn't belong to old conflict.

It doesn't belong to anyone's opinion of me.

It doesn't belong to stories people have carried from years ago.

It belongs to Connor and Taylor.

Two people choosing each other.

Two families coming together to celebrate them.

A little girl watching her parents get married.

A mother watching her eldest son become a husband.

That's the story I'm choosing to be present for.

A Gentle Reminder for Anyone Entering an Uncomfortable Room

Maybe you have an event coming up where you'll see an ex, estranged family, old friends, someone who hurt you, someone you've disappointed, or simply someone you're fairly certain doesn't like you.

Before you walk into that room, remind yourself:

You don't have to win anyone over.

You don't have to explain yourself.

You don't have to monitor every facial expression.

You don't have to shrink yourself.

You also don't need to become defensive or prove anything.

Be respectful.

Use your boundaries.

Stay connected to the people who make you feel safe.

Ground yourself when anxiety rises.

And remember why you're there.

Someone else's opinion does not have to become the loudest voice in your own head.

But there's an important difference between discomfort and being unsafe.

Grounding yourself doesn't mean tolerating cruelty, intimidation, harassment, or abuse.

Boundaries aren't about forcing yourself to remain calm while someone mistreats you.

Sometimes the healthiest boundary is limiting contact, stepping away from a conversation, asking someone you trust to stay nearby, or leaving altogether.

You can be committed to peace without sacrificing your emotional or physical safety to create it.

Being present does not require making yourself available for mistreatment.

Final Thoughts

On Saturday, October 24, my son gets married.

And when I imagine that day, I know exactly what I want to remember.

Not whether everyone liked me.

Not whether every interaction was comfortable.

Not whether everything went according to plan.

I want to remember Connor.

I want to remember Taylor.

I want to remember their faces.

Their love.

Our family.

The laughter.

The celebration.

And the incredible privilege of being there to witness my child begin this next chapter of his life.

There have been many chapters in our family's story.

Some beautiful.

Some difficult.

Some I would rewrite if life gave us that option.

But this weekend isn't about rewriting the old chapters.

It's about being fully present while Connor and Taylor begin writing a new one.

So when my anxiety whispers:

"What are they thinking about you?"

I'm going to remind myself:

"That's not my story to manage."

My job is much simpler.

Love my son.

Welcome my daughter-in-law.

Celebrate their family.

And be present enough to remember it.

Because this weekend, joy deserves to be louder.

Sign-Off

This week, I'm trading the need to be understood for the freedom to be present—and making room for joy to take up all the space it deserves.

Rose Degenhardt, MA, RCT, CCC,

Registered Counselling Therapist

Founder & Clinical Director

Venture Counselling & Therapy Inc.

A Reflection for You

Whose opinion are you carrying that was never yours to manage—and what could you be more present for if you finally put it down?