You know those weeks where one thing goes wrong and a million other little, insignificant things follow that you, then, unintentionally blow way out of proportion? The kind of weeks where you just can’t deal or don’t know how to properly deal with your emotions and you end up in a self-sabotaging state of mind? Yep, that was how I was feeling until about a few hours ago.
This morning, I woke up covered in a warm and embracing blanket of pity as I lay in bed. Although unusual, this was something I had found comforting in the days prior- self-pity and emotional outbursts. My mother dragged me out of bed to head to my second root canal procedure in less than two weeks, and in my grumpy and moody state, I let out a giant eye roll at just the thought of the day ahead and went on my way. As I sat back in the dentist’s office, I told myself I was basically a pro at this considering everything went smoothly the week before. Easy peasy, Silva. It’s just a tooth. It’s just drilling and filling a tooth. It’s nothing compared to what I’ve been through.
But, about twenty minutes in, I began to feel disoriented. My breathing became labored. My whole face went numb from the Novocaine (which is actually very normal for me). I started feeling nauseous, and in my weakest state, I forced out a few words. “Please stop. I can’t. I’m going to pass out.”
With a gaping hole in my tooth, we stopped the procedure, and my mother ran to my side to sit me up. I fought hard, so damn hard, to stay conscious when I saw my mother’s eyes fill with tears. Although letting go seemed like a viable option, I fought. I fought against the lightheadedness, the pain in my stomach, the tremors in my body, and the utmost fear I felt. Because this little pity party I had thrown for myself earlier wasn’t about to have an encore. I started coming to again, and as one of the assistants kindly held an ice pack to my head, she gently reminded me, “it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I managed to find my bearings again and finish the procedure, but the second I got to the car, I finally broke down and began simultaneously sobbing and laughing into my mother’s shoulder. Feeling so defeated with everything in my life (not eating this morning clearly didn’t help), I could hardly communicate these sentiments because my mouth was still numb. She held me tight and kept apologizing for not being able to understand me, and I just kept crying and giggling. The pronunciation of my words closely resembled a drunk person stumbling out of a bar at 2am, and somehow that was just enough to make me laugh. To make me take a deep breath and regain some clarity. To make me realize it’s time for me to heal and allow myself to start over.
Today’s close call was disguised as a wake-up call. A wake-up call to stop letting my shortcomings lead the way and start allowing my inner strength to take the reigns again. Because strength will always trump fear, and strength will always help you recognize that it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.
Love you, momma.