I can make an "S' sound!

There are plenty of things that I could post about today. And I've learned that if I don't use my funny little stories soon, someone else will pilfer my blog ideas. But there is only one thing on my mind right now.

I got my bite splint off! I got my bite splint off! I. Got. My. Bite. Splint. Off.

*cabbage patch dance*

I've been looking forward to this day since November 12.

But that's the problem. I've been looking forward to this day, imagining that it will be the great day of my return to normalcy. I figured it would hurt to have the thing yanked out, but that it would be so worth it. (Kind of like waxing your bikini area.)

But the day kind of sucked. In fact, it sucked a lot.

I keep telling people that through all of these deployments, I've learned to ask for help. And that's true.

Sort of.

I've learned to ask my friends to babysit my kids. I've learned that it's okay to accept the gallon of milk my friend thought I might need. I've learned that it's okay to ask my mother to visit and help take care of the kids for a while. I've learned that it's okay to delegate some of my responsibilities.

But I'm still not so good about asking for the kind of help I really need. The kind of help that isn't about getting things done but about nurturing my spirit.

I'm suddenly realizing...that was probably the biggest reason I started to blog.

But yesterday I bit the bullet. I sat in the car pool line picking up my daughter and I broke out my cell phone and called my friend. And I said, "I just really need a hug."

Do you know how fucking hard that was for me to do?

But it was worth it.

During that call I realized that I can actually talk again. And the ramifications of that suddenly filled my head.

I had taken the hardest step. I had called someone I trust and admitted my weakness. So what the hell, I called a few more people. And by the way, those calls were completely selfish. I was lonely and bored and needed to just chat and have fun and be myself.

Which leads to today's guilt. Is it just those of us who were raised Catholic, or is guilt really that much a part of everyone's life?

Now I'm thinking the same things I ALWAYS think. Who am I to complain? My life is so great. None of what I'm dealing with is a big deal. My friends are going through worse things than I am. Why do I have to make my friends worry about me? Blah, blah, blah. You've heard this from me before.

Fucking guilt.

I don't know. I guess much like my thrice-damned teeth, fixing myself is a process. And I'm one step closer to where I want to be.

I just want to be on the other side of things right now. I want to be in the place where my husband is home, my friends are all healthy, the people I love are all secure, and I can use my beautiful, white teeth to smile about it.

Last night I was listening to my iPod, and singing along. Yes, I said singing, people. I hadn't even realized how much I missed singing along to the radio. I love to sing, and it's not something I ever obsess over. I know I'm not a very good singer, but I don't care. I love to do it, so I do it whenever possible.

So right now, I'm going to concentrate on that. The rest will work out. It always will. And if I can kick this fucking guilt in the ass, I'll be so very, very happy.