Promises Kept

Do the different 'yous' of days gone by ever haunt you? What about the now 'you'?

There are a multitude of things that can directly, or indirectly, affect the person that looks back at you in the mirror. The person that has the last word when you close your eyes at night. The person that fills your head with thoughts, ideas, words, when you first wake.

I used to think, even when things were out of control, that I still had some sort of control over my life. I suppose that was the foolish idealist in me.

Now I'm coming to learn that there are times when you come to a swift realization, kind of like a film being played in fast forward showing your past as well as where you are headed, when you see that your actions often did not have the consequences you desired. That perhaps you have less of a hand in it than you think. Or do you?

For as long as I can recall, I've been leary of promises. I have every right to be. Seven years ago I made a promise to myself. At the time, it was to protect myself; save myself in a way. Little did I know that it might be my own undoing. Isn't it funny... in an attempt to protect and elevate myself I have effectively walled myself off. The protection stalled out and became a holding cell.

It is kind of like falling down into a well and looking up, wondering if and when it will end. And how. And which is worse.

So much for keeping promises.

Breaking the surface to show I'm still alive. Well, most of me anyway.

Tap, tap... is this thing on? {squeeeeeal}

So yeah, I'm not dead. I did end up having a second, much more involved oral surgery, though. So after all the pain over the past two years that these two teeth (formally known as #19 and #20, I renamed them the Evil Twins) have caused they are hopefully nestled snugly in a medical waste barge on their way to being incinerated. All of my insurance was used trying to save them and now I get to pay for this surgery out of pocket. The irony grips me folks.

Anyway. I now have a dead body in my mouth permanently. I needed bone grafts and unless it is major, they don't put a patient through another procedure simply to harvest bone. They get bone-in-a-can. Seriously. Most places in my body wouldn't really freak me out much but my mouth, ew. I'm certain I've ingested some so now that makes me a cannibal as well. Well aren't I just America's sweetheart?

My new cell ringtone is Living Dead Girl. Dig?

Just getting back into the swing of things and I hope to snoop around blogland this weekend to start catching up. Hope everyone is grand. Now, off to eat something. Hmm, pudding, baby food or yogurt? Decisions, decisions.