Ice, ice, baby in A day in the life...

I have a horrible habit of chewing ice. If ever there were no more ice in the world I think I would have a mental breakdown. I love chewing ice that much! I drive friends and family nuts with it but…I don’t care! My sister once offered to pay me some serious cash if I would stop chewing ice when she was around. I think I lasted about 10 minutes.

But alas, tomorrow I will pay the price for all the ice chewing I’ve done over the past, well, let’s just say MANY years. A few weeks ago I noticed a sore on the inside of my gums by my bottom back left tooth, and the tooth would hurt when I chewed ice. I figured I’d scratched my gum or something and slowed down with the ice chewing and waited for it to feel better. But one week, then two weeks passed and if anything the tooth was hurting worse. I finally broke down and made an appointment with the dentist. I HATE going to the dentist!

When I got there the dental tech took what felt like 30 x-rays of my teeth, then showed me to the dental chair. The dentist was super nice, which made me relax. The good news is that most (did you notice I said most?) of my teeth are in great shape. The bad news? The upper and lower back teeth on the left side are fractured from all the damn ice chewing I’ve done and have to be extracted. Awesome.

So tomorrow hubby is going to take me to the dentist and wait for me while they’re torturing me....I mean, cutting my teeth out....and then take me back home. They told me at the last visit that I should have someone drive me because I probably wouldn’t be up to driving after this wonderful procedure is over with. Tomorrow after the procedure will probably be spent gulping down ibuprofen and whining. Oh, and trying to keep my dog from trying to lick my face off.

So I did go to the church group last night, but mostly because I knew Liz wouldn’t be there. I’ve decided that I can’t let my issues with her being a small group leader interfere with all the progress I’ve made with the help of so many others there. I just know that I will not be going to Liz’s small group. There are three others to choose from and I know the leaders of all of them and like them a lot, so I’ll float around between the three of those until I find the one I like best.

Oh, I have got to tell you all this! I’ve written in the past about how my mom acts whenever I’ve tried to bring up the subject of my sexual abuse. She tells me to let it go, forget about it, it’s in the past....blah blah blah. Well, about two weeks ago I did some online digging and found out that the person who abused me when I was a child is on the sex offender registry list! YES!! Yes, I have forgiven him, but I am also happy that he was eventually brought to justice for the things he did to me and other girls. So I called my mom and told her that. She shocked the hell out of me! She was so excited that she wanted to keep talking about it. Not about when he did to me, mind you…that subject is taboo to her. But she wanted all these details…like his name, when he was put on the registry, where he lived, and so on. Since I was driving all I could tell her was that all I knew was his name and that he was on the registry.

After that I guess she did some researching on her own and found out where he lived. She then told me that she thought she and I should pay him a visit the next time I come into town. Um, say what? I asked her why and basically she wants to let him have it for what he did to me (even though she doesn’t know any of the details because she refuses to discuss it). I said but mom, I’ve already forgiven him. Then she says she knows I’ve forgiven him in my heart, but maybe it would help me to forgive him face to face. Are you fucking kidding me? I have no idea what kind of person he is today. He could be remorseful for the things he’s done, but that’s highly unlikely. It’s a fact that most pedophiles never take responsibility for their actions. He could be bitter about going to jail and being on the sex offender registry and want to blow my brains out if I should show up at his house and say hey, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m the little girl you raped in 1978, etc., etc.

So I’m curious as to what you all think. I, personally, don’t think it’s necessary for me to see him to tell him I forgive him to his face. I’m not comfortable with it at all, and I’m afraid seeing him would set me back and I will not let that happen. I’ve made so much progress in my therapy and I’m not going to do anything to impede it. Mom still wants to do it, but I think it’s a bad, bad idea.

What say you?