![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
If I can't get into GJ soon, I will pitch a fit the likes of which have not been seen before. Why does GJ have to go down like a two dollar whore at the culmination of two multiple-week-storylines?
My mother and I have reached a new place in our relationship. She has agreed that when I call her upon leaving the dentist's office (because being in a dentist's office makes me hysterical and I need to call my mommy) all she will say is that it will all work out and it will all be fine, because getting that stroppy tone in her voice and telling me to suck it up and fucking deal is not what I want.
See, I do Just Fine in the visit. I actually do not mind going to the dentist. I like my dentist, even if he doesn't explain things while I have a rubber dam in my mouth and I am trying real hard not to reach up and grab him by the tie and slam him into the wall and enunciate very, very clearly "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?" I like the hygienists, I like the receptionists, I like the building, it's close to work, etc.
Leaving the dentist is like being hit by a baseball bat. Yesterday was a particularly bad example of the species, given that I was informed that yes, I do need a root canal (I have a tooth that has been falling apart for about three years now) and no one knows how much of that my insurance will cover and I have to go to an endodontist, and I don't have a choice in the matter, given that the insane butchers at the clinic who did the temporary actually started taking the nerve out. Now, this is interesting to me, given that I thought that what they had said was "You need a root canal, and we can't do them," rather than "You definitely need a root canal now, since we've started doing one."
I am quite, quite certain that my version of events was correct.
Nonetheless, they started doing one. I have never, ever in my life been so inclined to sue someone as I was when he said "Oh, yeah, they started doing the root canal," and slapped another temporary in. I got to lay there for another twenty five minutes, unable to communicate, until I could say "I need you to tell me what that means before I turn into an insane shrieking harridan," which got a laugh but actually - it wasn't intended to.
Blah blah blah dentistcakes yey.
So I call my mother and start whining about this and how horrible it is and it's not even the pain or the referral or any of the rest of it that bothers me, what bothers me is that I don't know how much this will cost and you know, I know this is my drama, but I start making my student loan payments in less than a month. I need some certainty about money here, because at this point I can't pay off bills fast enough, even with more money coming in and it is incredibly, incredibly upsetting because I actually don't like living in debt and it makes me nervous. And I'm still trying to gain ground from being unemployed for so long and now - I don't know, I know it'll work out, but it's all making me a little bit nutty.
I even know that my problems are not as extreme as a lot of other peoples'. This is not the point.
Anyway, she basically spent the next fifteen minutes verbally bitchslapping me, which was not what I wanted, and now we have this new understanding, which is that if I feel compelled to call her when leaving the dentist, she just says that it will all work out and not that, you know, when the receptionist tells me it'll take four weeks to get an estimate of coverage that that's just crazy and it never takes that long and I need to march back in there and find out what that means. Because I'm going to assume that Mary knows her job.
Anyway. So we've been discussing this - my teeth are a fascinating topic in my family, I can tell you what, and I have, apparently, finally clarified for my mother why I would not have the surgery I need to have done (for THREE FREAKIN YEARS OMG) to have a hope in hell of having any teeth when I am old. Which is that it was all futile. Everything I did or did not do did not make a damn bit of difference. I didn't want decisions about when to do things, I wanted to know that it would matter. As far as I am and was concerned, I could eat Twinkies all day long or I could brush my teeth every time a cavity passed my lips and every time I slept or woke up, and I would still have cavities.
What I wanted was to know that anything the dentists wanted me to do would matter. And they just didn't. (To the extent that I got booted out of two dentists' practices.)
So it's one of those things that, you know, it's too late now, but at least she knows that it wasn't about wanting control, it was about wanting success. Any success.
I think the only time I had an exam that didn't entail some obscene number of cavities was probably the time I had an exam a month after finally finishing filling eightee cavities gained in an eighteen month period without an exam.
It just did not matter what I did. Why would I have three years of surgery, entailing sectioning my jaws and doing all sorts of things, in order to have a perfect smile when, clearly, I would never have a perfect smile?
So, you know, some of the dental stuff that Lurks In The Past is getting sorted. (I don't have a history of child abuse, I have a history of dental issues, yey.) But I have to admit that I'm a bit upset that my mother couldn't understand that, even after being so powerful I could deny all sorts of treatment (at the age of eleven) and could get booted from practices, it wasn't about being in control, it was about knowing that there was a point to all of it. That it would somehow, some way, make a difference, and that it wasn't just being presented as "If you don't do this, you'll have X effects."
I wish she had been able to say it differently, because I couldn't hear it the way she said it. I suppose she wishes I'd been able to hear it differently.
Oh, and immediately after leaving this appointment and getting home, I find out that my rent is going up by fifty dollars. I'm assuming it's fifty, as my base rent is going to be $700 and $25 for utilities. But the paper does say on it "$700.00 + $25.00, so $750.00."
So I'm moving. And I might try to go into a condo now. My mother thinks I'd wind up shooting everyone, but I don't want to keep renting and I'm not buying a house, even assuming I could find one I could afford.
It always interests me to realise that a big part of the reason I broke up with my ex was over birthdays. But then again, I'm not an only child and my birthday doesn't mark the centre of the universe, and I do have good birthdays, and I also have the right to send someone their birthday present when I don't actually dislike them so intensely I'd have to think about pissing on them if they were on fire. But she wanted her gift on time, and I wanted it to be when I felt like speaking to her.
My mother and I have reached a new place in our relationship. She has agreed that when I call her upon leaving the dentist's office (because being in a dentist's office makes me hysterical and I need to call my mommy) all she will say is that it will all work out and it will all be fine, because getting that stroppy tone in her voice and telling me to suck it up and fucking deal is not what I want.
See, I do Just Fine in the visit. I actually do not mind going to the dentist. I like my dentist, even if he doesn't explain things while I have a rubber dam in my mouth and I am trying real hard not to reach up and grab him by the tie and slam him into the wall and enunciate very, very clearly "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?" I like the hygienists, I like the receptionists, I like the building, it's close to work, etc.
Leaving the dentist is like being hit by a baseball bat. Yesterday was a particularly bad example of the species, given that I was informed that yes, I do need a root canal (I have a tooth that has been falling apart for about three years now) and no one knows how much of that my insurance will cover and I have to go to an endodontist, and I don't have a choice in the matter, given that the insane butchers at the clinic who did the temporary actually started taking the nerve out. Now, this is interesting to me, given that I thought that what they had said was "You need a root canal, and we can't do them," rather than "You definitely need a root canal now, since we've started doing one."
I am quite, quite certain that my version of events was correct.
Nonetheless, they started doing one. I have never, ever in my life been so inclined to sue someone as I was when he said "Oh, yeah, they started doing the root canal," and slapped another temporary in. I got to lay there for another twenty five minutes, unable to communicate, until I could say "I need you to tell me what that means before I turn into an insane shrieking harridan," which got a laugh but actually - it wasn't intended to.
Blah blah blah dentistcakes yey.
So I call my mother and start whining about this and how horrible it is and it's not even the pain or the referral or any of the rest of it that bothers me, what bothers me is that I don't know how much this will cost and you know, I know this is my drama, but I start making my student loan payments in less than a month. I need some certainty about money here, because at this point I can't pay off bills fast enough, even with more money coming in and it is incredibly, incredibly upsetting because I actually don't like living in debt and it makes me nervous. And I'm still trying to gain ground from being unemployed for so long and now - I don't know, I know it'll work out, but it's all making me a little bit nutty.
I even know that my problems are not as extreme as a lot of other peoples'. This is not the point.
Anyway, she basically spent the next fifteen minutes verbally bitchslapping me, which was not what I wanted, and now we have this new understanding, which is that if I feel compelled to call her when leaving the dentist, she just says that it will all work out and not that, you know, when the receptionist tells me it'll take four weeks to get an estimate of coverage that that's just crazy and it never takes that long and I need to march back in there and find out what that means. Because I'm going to assume that Mary knows her job.
Anyway. So we've been discussing this - my teeth are a fascinating topic in my family, I can tell you what, and I have, apparently, finally clarified for my mother why I would not have the surgery I need to have done (for THREE FREAKIN YEARS OMG) to have a hope in hell of having any teeth when I am old. Which is that it was all futile. Everything I did or did not do did not make a damn bit of difference. I didn't want decisions about when to do things, I wanted to know that it would matter. As far as I am and was concerned, I could eat Twinkies all day long or I could brush my teeth every time a cavity passed my lips and every time I slept or woke up, and I would still have cavities.
What I wanted was to know that anything the dentists wanted me to do would matter. And they just didn't. (To the extent that I got booted out of two dentists' practices.)
So it's one of those things that, you know, it's too late now, but at least she knows that it wasn't about wanting control, it was about wanting success. Any success.
I think the only time I had an exam that didn't entail some obscene number of cavities was probably the time I had an exam a month after finally finishing filling eightee cavities gained in an eighteen month period without an exam.
It just did not matter what I did. Why would I have three years of surgery, entailing sectioning my jaws and doing all sorts of things, in order to have a perfect smile when, clearly, I would never have a perfect smile?
So, you know, some of the dental stuff that Lurks In The Past is getting sorted. (I don't have a history of child abuse, I have a history of dental issues, yey.) But I have to admit that I'm a bit upset that my mother couldn't understand that, even after being so powerful I could deny all sorts of treatment (at the age of eleven) and could get booted from practices, it wasn't about being in control, it was about knowing that there was a point to all of it. That it would somehow, some way, make a difference, and that it wasn't just being presented as "If you don't do this, you'll have X effects."
I wish she had been able to say it differently, because I couldn't hear it the way she said it. I suppose she wishes I'd been able to hear it differently.
Oh, and immediately after leaving this appointment and getting home, I find out that my rent is going up by fifty dollars. I'm assuming it's fifty, as my base rent is going to be $700 and $25 for utilities. But the paper does say on it "$700.00 + $25.00, so $750.00."
So I'm moving. And I might try to go into a condo now. My mother thinks I'd wind up shooting everyone, but I don't want to keep renting and I'm not buying a house, even assuming I could find one I could afford.
It always interests me to realise that a big part of the reason I broke up with my ex was over birthdays. But then again, I'm not an only child and my birthday doesn't mark the centre of the universe, and I do have good birthdays, and I also have the right to send someone their birthday present when I don't actually dislike them so intensely I'd have to think about pissing on them if they were on fire. But she wanted her gift on time, and I wanted it to be when I felt like speaking to her.
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
But I'm sort of seeing the wisdom to having this stuff done while it was still her paying for it.
From:
no subject
From:
Hi, I am LJ, I eat comments because They Make Me Big.
Make of that what you will. My OTPs aren't even REAL any more!