‘Put me to sleep’ is what they said they were going to do.
First, I envisioned a dog thinking he was getting a treat but getting a shot instead. Second, I wondered how sick I was. Third, I replied with a confident “Awesome! Better to sleep than feel the pain!” Fourth, I went home and freaked out for twenty-four hours until putting to sleep time.
It was only wisdom teeth after all and who needs wisdom AND teeth. Seemed to me if there was a choice…
The ‘putting down’ I didn’t remember at all. The ‘during’ phase I remember feeling as if my face was being pulled in different directions, like beggars had stormed the dentist office and had been standing over my body with pliers, pulling and pulling, screaming ‘Yes!’ when the tooth came loose, jumping up and down on the table and going at it again, until all my wisdom or all my teeth had disappeared.
Since I woke up without teeth, I presumed they didn’t find the wisdom a worthy grab. Staring at my dentist in a post-tooth-apocalyptic high he greeted me with a warm smile, perfect of course, and explained all went smoothly and he’d be happy to stop by my home later that evening to check on me. For a second I wondered if he forgot what century we were in, even more, what neighborhood. A post tooth extraction house call? It was sweet but so otherworldly to me in that moment that I thanked him but declined his offer.
I knew how to bleed by myself. Didn’t everyone?
So, here’s an odd segue…
Years and years later I took my daughter with me to a client’s office for a few minutes. When out and about, in my presence or not, she gets comments or compliments about her hair, skin color or eyes. It started when she was a baby but unlike my other children, she continues to get the comments as she grows. The day I brought her in the office was no different, a compliment about her eyes and almost immediately one in contrast, that in a few words said something deeper, that subtly expressed his understanding that beauty was more than skin deep.
It always stuck with me, from then to now, cause one of my challenges is having her look at herself through her own eyes and not through the eyes of others, and oddly, if you receive compliments as the norm, it is easy to come to expect them, easier to think something is wrong with you when not received. Even more, I needed to drill into her that the weight of her beauty rested in her character, not in what the world could and would most easily reflect back to her.
It seems to be working cause there are days she comes to me overly confident and instinctively I want to knock her down a few notches but I don’t say anything cause the world will make its attempts without me and cause I’m not really sure overconfidence is a thing.
So, here’s odd segue number two…
Seekers, Seers, Empaths and those-type folks wander the world wearing ‘Wound Spectacles’ sewed in the crevices between the amygdala and mid-brain. While you might think you look cute in your however much effort you put in outfit and bling, those wearing the spectacles see also your sutures as well as what continues to drain.
No matter how beautiful your eyes might be it’s the blood leaking from the sutures on your heart that they speak to. ‘They’ don’t know how to speak from any place except the place they see through the scars of their own sutures.
Isn’t it a beautiful thing to realize that your beauty is recognized by them only through the magnification of their own?
Now if this post seems disjointed please know it is due to my being created in a lab environment, hence my mind, heart and spirit parts were put together in experimental ways yet all joined and sutured as one organ.
It has been written by the scientists that on occasion the sutures may break but that there is no cause for concern, because this is a symptom of the human condition.
Wound healing is no more than a kiss on a boo boo that says I see you, know it hurts but I’m here until it feels better and I love you.
Wound closure is no more than an embrace that says I see your scars, know they’re not pretty but I’m here when they re-open and I love you.
Wounded warriors are those who take a sword and break into the homes of those who go off to bleed by themselves in order to reopen their own sutures to purposely co-mingle blood.
They stand toe to toe with their beloved prepared for battle, all so they can remind them that bleeding alone is not an option, no more an option than their love for you.
Swords held to protect healing simultaneously protects those joined in love.