(longer).
Today, something happened to me. I had a rush of overwhelming emotions. I went in for my root canal, hoping to save my tooth. For at least 30 minutes, I sat through the drilling, the anesthesia, and everything that came with the procedure. But then, the doctor—told me he couldn’t save it. He was really good at what he did, and I could tell he genuinely cared. He tried everything, and I appreciated his effort. He even looked sad when he broke the news to me.
When I got in my car and started driving, I noticed the heavy gray clouds. It was sprinkling, and for some reason, that made me feel even sadder. It wasn’t just about the tooth—it was everything. It’s been a long journey, and I really wanted to save it. When I first consulted with my primary dentist, they suggested an extraction, but I believed it could be saved with a root canal. I held onto that hope. But as time went on, delays happened, circumstances changed, and maybe—just maybe—that’s why the tooth couldn’t be saved.
Then again, this tooth had been battling my wisdom tooth for years. It suffered damage that wasn’t always visible, injuries that went deeper than the surface. And that’s the thing—just because something looks fine on the outside doesn’t mean it isn’t broken. Just because something seems strong doesn’t mean it can withstand more.
And I guess that applies to me, too. I try to keep myself put together. I internalize things. I minimize the impact of what I’ve been through, pretending it doesn’t affect me. But it does. And honestly, I just wish people would be kinder. Life would be easier if we all approached each other with grace instead of matching rudeness with more rudeness. I’ve learned that when people don’t show you respect, you don’t owe it to them. You don’t have to tolerate disrespect just to be the bigger person. Because when you do, it’s almost like you’re disrespecting yourself.
Today felt like a loss. Not just because of the tooth, but because it reminded me of everything I’ve been through—how much effort I put into things, how much pain I’ve endured, how hard I fight for what I believe in. I just wanted to save it, to follow through with the root canal and crown. But now, the plan has changed. And as much as I hate it, the end result will be the same—I’ll be able to eat and live without pain. It’ll just happen through a different route: an extraction and a dental implant.
I guess that’s life. There’s always an end-of-life for certain things. Roads that used to be there disappear. Stores we used to visit close down. Nothing is permanent.
Despite everything, today had a bright spot. I had lunch with my sister. We always find humor in the chaos of life, mixing dark humor with the reality of our struggles. And as I was driving her back, I noticed she had a tote bag with her—the same one I gave her years ago. It surprised me. I still remembered it, and seeing it again felt special. My other sister, too—she still has a pair of comfortable socks I gave her over 15 years ago. They’re still in great condition.
And that’s what life is about. Taking care of what we have. If we cherish something, it lasts (longer). But even when we take care of things, they can only withstand so much. And that’s okay, too. As long as we do our best to take care of ourselves, everything else will follow suit.
I know that in this lifetime, I love and respect myself. Even when my heart and mind aren’t always in sync, I know that if you take care of something—if you truly cherish it—it may not last forever, but it will last longer than if you had never cared for it at all. It’s in the little things, the details that make life work—the small moments of understanding, the effort put into nurturing not just others but yourself.
I’m learning to take care of my heart, my soul, and my spirit. With this little life of mine, I know that struggles exist for a reason. There are lessons woven into them, even when they feel unbearable. And as much as I sometimes feel like I don’t belong—like everything is just too much—I remind myself that I don’t have to last forever. I just have to last longer than this. Long enough to reach my potential. Nothing more, nothing less.
Dear Diary, 