Well, when shit decides to hit the fan, it will all hit the fan.

Monday afternoon, I had dental surgery to remove three impacted wisdom teeth. This means the teeth were coming in sideways, pressing into the roots of the teeth around them, making it likely that I would need a root canal later on if I didn’t get them taken out now. Having never had any surgery since I was born two months premature, I was really, really anxious going into this procedure. I’ve seen things go wrong for my dad during surgery, so even though this was not considered major, I was still really anxious. Did not want to do it. Nearly backed out several times the day of.

But it went really well. I was given IV sedation, which is like, halfway between conscious and unconscious. I remember very little of the procedure itself. I woke up as they were finishing the stitches on my left side. I remember saying something about writing “dental poetry” after I healed up (which, what the heck is that even supposed to be? But okay…) and the surgeon and dental assistants all laughed. I remember not getting the joke until I got home. My partner drove me home. I was very groggy and must have slept most of the way because I do not remember the drive at all. I remember he helped me up the three flights of stairs to our condo, and then settling onto the couch where I ate ice cream.

The last two days, of course, have been filled with lots of ice cream, lots of protein shakes, lots and lots of Pho, and all the nature documentaries Disney+ has to offer. Today is the first day that I have felt even a little like myself, and while the pain is down somewhat, the left side of my jaw is still swollen. I have a two-week exam coming up to see how the gums are healing, and it seems to be a very good thing that I can still feel my tongue and my lips, since the teeth that were extracted were right on some of the nerves in my jaw.

Tonight, I take another big step on the road to looking after my mental health: I’m starting therapy with a trauma specialist.

A friend of mine recommended her to me and tonight we have our first consultation. I know that managing my mental and emotional health will be a lifelong effort, but right now I’m feeling completely exhausted. It’s made managing my mental health even harder than it usually is. Trauma, like any wound, doesn’t heal on its own. It requires care and attention. I’m going to take the next step towards that extra care and attention.

Of course, what should happen last night – the night before I’m starting this new treatment program – but that I should see that my ex is now on Instagram. His profile was suggested to me. His face popped up as I was scrolling and it immediately sent me into a panic. His handle was, of course, some bullshit that I can’t go into, but it made him sound like he was the victim of some intense trauma. And while I was eventually able to calm down, it sent me into a mental spiral for a couple of hours. Because I know he’s going to live his life however he wants to live it. I know he’s never going to acknowledge the pain he caused me, the trauma he put me through, the abuse he made me suffer. If he didn’t acknowledge it while we were married, he’s sure as hell not going to acknowledge it now.

But the timing still hurts me because he’s one of the primary reasons I’m going back to therapy. And it’s already hard enough to make the choice to try and heal from trauma because healing hurts like hell. It’s triggering and it feels like someone’s pouring hot alcohol on a freshly opened wound. And even though the payoff is that I will be healthier, I will be stronger, I will be taking back more of my life and my body and my mind, it will be harder before it gets better. Seeing his face the night before all of this healing starts was the very last thing I needed.

I feel a bit better this morning, but not by much. I really did give him everything I had. I gave so much that he didn’t deserve, what he wasn’t willing to give back to me. I didn’t really ever expect to see him on social media because he hates social media. Always has. So I was surprised to see that he was on a platform like Instagram, of all places. The shock of it is passing somewhat, and I know that this is something I’ll have to learn to process through, but it’s really shitty timing. Or, maybe it’s great timing: reminding me why I’m going back into therapy in the first place, why I’m choosing such a rigorous treatment program. I don’t want something like seeing his face to completely disrupt my evenings anymore.

I’m working on getting my fourth packet completed for my advisor. I’m hoping to get it submitted to her by the end of the weekend. I can’t believe I’m this close to completing my M.F.A. And even though I’m in some physical pain this morning (thanks surgery) as well as some emotional pain this morning (thanks Instagram), I’m also feeling very thankful. The sun is shining. It’s officially spring. It’s also National Poetry Writing Month and I intend to write one poem a day. No specific word count. Just one poem every day. I have an amazing partner. I’m loved. I’m cherished. I have the best support system ever. And I know that the people who are in my life, genuinely want me there.

So here’s to the next steps. Here’s to healing and growing. Here’s to love.