Why Letting Go of Control is the #1 Wedding Hack
When people talk about weddings, they tend to focus on the extremes—the triumphs and disasters, the joyful moments and the emotional meltdowns, the perfectly captured Instagram details and the chaos behind the scenes. But what doesn’t get talked about as much are the quieter struggles—the internal ones. The pressure to make it meaningful. The fear of getting it wrong. The overwhelm that can come with trying to create something extraordinary.
As someone who works in a creative field, I thought planning a wedding would come easily. I’ve always loved design, and I’ve spent years helping others make aesthetic decisions and bring their vision to life. But when it came to my own wedding, something shifted. Suddenly, every choice felt monumental. It wasn’t just about color palettes or floral arrangements—it was about honoring the destination, our relationship, and the people who were traveling across the world to celebrate with us.
From the moment we chose San Miguel de Allende, Mexico—a city we fell in love with on an earlier trip—I knew I wanted the wedding to feel deeply connected to the place. I just didn’t expect how hard it would be to get out of my own way.
The pressure I put on myself came out of love—love for design, love for Mark (my now-husband), and love for everyone who had ever said, “I can’t wait to see your wedding someday.” I wanted it to be personal and intentional. But instead of jumping into planning with excitement, I froze. Emails went unanswered. Pinterest boards stayed private. The more I cared, the more afraid I became of miscommunicating my ideas or making the wrong call.
Thankfully, Mark stepped in without hesitation. He handled vendor coordination, timelines, and payments with the same calm energy he brings to every part of our life. His quiet confidence helped me remember something I’d told myself early on: trust the people you hired.
That became the turning point.
I stopped trying to obsess over every detail and started leaning on the incredibly talented team we’d assembled. I handed off loose inspiration and messy notes and let them do what they do best. I stayed involved, but I stopped clinging to the belief that everything had to come directly from me. I let go of the pressure to curate every moment myself—and, of course, they delivered.
When our wedding day arrived, I walked into the reception tent and was completely floored. The space felt like a hidden garden—romantic, modern, layered, and moody. There were elements I had envisioned from the beginning—like the hand-painted dance floor inspired by our favorite San Miguel tile—and others that completely surprised me. Together, it felt like us. But better.
Throughout the weekend, guests kept asking what inspired the design. I found myself saying, “This was all our vendors,” but close friends would just smile and say, “Sure… but it still feels so you.” And they were right. It was my vision, filtered through the eyes of people I trusted—people who took what I gave them and elevated it.
Planning this wedding was never about perfection. It was about presence—creating something that felt honest, grounded, and true to who we are. And somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to force every detail and started enjoying the process of watching it come to life.
Letting go didn’t mean stepping back. It meant making space—for connection, for creativity, and for a day that felt like an extension of who we are. What our team created was more than a wedding. It was a love letter to San Miguel, to our guests, and to each other.
If I learned anything, it’s this: Trust the process and trust your people. What you build together will always be stronger than what you try to build alone.
