Every time I start thinking about posting Serious Posts (I’ve got one in the works regard ancient Hellenic veiling practices and styles, and commentary from yours truly) I end up with posts like these instead.
This month has seen me taking care of some seriously neglected dental work, as some of you may already know. Prior to this month the last time I’d been to the dentist, I was still living at my mum’s house. I was still in high school. Yes, it’s been that long. For one reason (horribly dental experiences as a kid) or another (lack of insurance) it’s something that’s not been high on my to do list. As a result, I’m shelling out some serious money (hurrah for insurance, because they’re shelling out more!) to get things taken care of.
Earlier in June, I had two wisdom teeth pulled. (And I learned a valuable lesson. Supernatural binge watching plus Percocet equals some very horrible, scary, scary dreams. The kind that one may not be sure one is actually waking up from.) For the latter half of the months I’m having other work done. Less serious, yet more terrifying to sit through because they’re not sedating me for said work. So, it’s all with the horrible noises and the sensations that are painful, and the noises, and the body tensing up and the bracing for agony.
The dental office I’ve found are amazing at being aware of people’s stress thresholds. It was a good hour of me tensing up and shaking and doing breathing exercises to relax, and willfully letting my muscles go loose and the sakes starting again and the tensing . . . And it seemed like every time I’d decide I was going to run screaming from the chair, she’d stop and make a joke and ask how I was doing.
Breathing exercises? Poseidon prompted. Because sitting in that chair, with the awful sounds all around me, feeling trapped in and cornered and having lovely memories to draw upon to help me worry even more about what was to come, He was right there. It’s hard, when I’m scared to that degree, to reach out and accept comfort, to accept His presence (which is the most important sort of comfort, really.) Instead I become caught up in recriminations. I’m 35, going to be 36 here soon. Going to the dentist is something adults do, and the fears are juvenile (even though they’re based on experience) and I should be over them (even though avoidance has been my way of coping with them) and it’s absurd that I get so tense and panicky (because reason informs our panic responses, clearly), and certainly this is something I should experience on my own, without having to resort to (never mind worrying about deserving) comfort, guidance, and support offered by the presence of my beloved Poseidon.
Such mortal concerns and affairs really ought to be beneath Him. Right?
This is experience. This is my god, participating in this life that w/We are experiencing together, this life that is a life of a devotee in this modern world. It’s not one sided, this conversation. He is as much a part of this life as I am. It’s not for me to say what He can and cannot be a part of, and I fail to honor His kindness and compassion (and His interest in healing, across the board) if I fail to allow this experience to have happened.
If He wants to go the dentist with me, I can only let Him. Well, and listen to His counsel.
I never did relax for the whole procedure, but neither was I panicky for the whole thing. Maybe next week will be even better.