Now before you jump to conclusions about me doing something stupid the title here refers to the pending doom of getting all four of my wisdom teeth EXTRACTED. And when I say extracted I don't mean sitting in the dentist's office with him going at my mouth with some pliers. I mean the whole shebang. I'm going to an ORAL SURGEON (yep, I said it, surgeon). Now I know that people do this all the time. I'm by no means the first or only one of a few people to have this procedure. It's actually one of the most common oral procedures that people my age and younger go through (kinda like braces only worse I'd imagine). So I'm gonna do it. Even though I'm not excited (AT ALL) I'm going to bite the bullet and go through with it.
SO you probably think I'm being a baby right? Whining about a simple procedure that bazillions of people have to go through at some point in their lives. But haven't you ever been afraid or apprehensive about something imminent and unavoidable before? I mean trust me, this isn't the only thing in my life right now that has me on edge. I mean listen up- I'm graduating in five months and after that it's going to be up to me to get my behind in gear and get a fabulous job and embrace adulthood. Now at this moment (with my oral operation a mere two days away) I'm much more worried about my teeth, but believe me, that whole growing up thing is always looming on the edge of my thoughts. But I know one thing. God's got a plan for me that's going to prosper and not harm me. So I take comfort in that. But this is where it gets hairy. Faith is a hard thing to do. It goes against that human desire to want to control EVERYTHING when in reality, I can't control ANYTHING.
Do I believe that I have the talent and skills needed to get a super awesome big girl job in marketing? Absolutely. I haven't been working hard the past four years for nothing. That's my goal. But I know also that I've got to continue to trust that everything is going to be taken care of by the big man upstairs. He's got my back and even though I freak out (about every ten minutes) that something will go wrong with the anesthesia or my face will swell up like a chipmunk or that I'll be one of the failure to launch kids who still lives with their parents at age 30, but I've got to just give that to God.
Now I've just got to man up and go to the doctor and let him take my teeth out of my skull. And after that- all I gotta do is find a J-O-B. woo hoo!
I guess this is what growing up is. Doing things that you don't necessarily want to do but that will in the long run help you (like not letting your impacted bottom wisdom teeth make my other teeth decay) and not letting fear get in the way. I'm going to let this guy cut into my gums, break two of my teeth into three pieces and pull them out of my mouth. Yay. It's gotta be done. Gotta do it. Gonna do it. Wish me luck.
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