I am so scared, y’all.
I am sitting in the car in the parking lot of the grocery store, on the verge of tears. I don’t want to go in the store and I don’t want to go home.
Did I tell you all it’s seven hours of surgery? I think I did, but maybe I didn’t. Apparently I didn’t tell the people I live with, even though I’m pretty sure I did. ￼
I don’t want to do the surgery. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t. What the hell was I thinking? At the best of times I have some dental phobia. This is ridiculous.￼￼￼￼
I might be having a panic attack.
It is my own fault that other￼ people￼￼ aren’t solicitous and worried about me. How could they know that I’m freaked out when I don’t act like it? When they weren’t even paying attention when I told them that I needed to be at the dentist at eight and would be there until three.￼
So here I am, and I don’t want to go home, and I don’t want to have the surgery, and I pretty much have to do both those things. I’m dumping this here because I want to let go of it. Thanks