Your Body Remembers

Your body remembers, even if you don’t, as I didn’t understand for years why it felt like every single muscle in my body was contracting when I walked into a dental office. Even when I was just scheduled for a routine cleaning and exam. These reactions in the dental chair caused me to avoid treatment since I was a young child. I knew I had a terrible experience with my childhood dentist, but could not for the life of me remember the specifics. I still don’t recall the details of everything that happened, and I don’t need to, as doing so would cause more harm than benefit. However, after years of avoidance and almost 20 months of addressing this trauma head-on in therapy, I can make a reasonable conclusion about what has happened to me.

I only remember going to the dentist a handful of times when I was growing up. I have been told by my family that there was never a time where I didn’t flip out at the dentist. It was always a battle where I was practically dragged from our family car into the waiting room — where yet again, I had to be dragged into the exam room chair. My anxiety was met with anger and force from all involved, which did nothing but make the entire situation. When I was twelve, I started receiving orthodontic care. It went mostly smoothly until my last few appointments. My orthodontist was adjusting one of the wires on my bottom teeth to remove the braces and accidentally chipped my tooth. They changed my treatment plan to make space so that my pediatric dentist could fix it. Considering the previous experiences I had with my dentist, I had no interest in doing that. I wanted them to take my bottom braces off, but they refused to until that issue was fixed. After that appointment, I got home, cried for hours in my bedroom, and made the decision that I would never go to the dentist again. I comforted myself with the thought that if I ever became in excruciating pain, I would rather end my life than go to the dentist and face the trauma of what had happened to me. Physical pain and emotional pain can turn into a deadly combination without proper support. I’m thankful that my suicidal thoughts growing up were mostly passive, but I can certainly recognize how it could have progressed.

There was one problem; I still had braces on my bottom teeth. I kept them on for months without any follow-up treatment and then realized it was probably best to get them off somehow. I took a pair of tweezers and, one by one, took off all the rubber bands. After that was done, I was able to remove the wire. This left empty brackets on my teeth, which was incredibly uncomfortable. After some research, I learned that if you squeeze each bracket with a pair of pliers in a specific spot, they will pop off one by one. I did this carefully with a pair of pliers over a couple of days. It was not comfortable, but again, this was all 100 times better than attempting to go to the dentist. I learned that I could adjust my chewing pattern to avoid making cavities painful. I changed my diet to avoid foods that would break down my teeth further. There was a time when I was willing to do anything to avoid a trip to the dentist. I mean anything as I associated the dentist as a place of extreme physical and emotional pain. Without routine preventative care, your teeth will likely deteriorate over time. It, of course, depends on the person as some don’t get cavities as quickly despite their poor oral hygiene routines. I am not this person. I brush my teeth for two minutes twice a day and floss daily, yet I still had dozens of dental problems when I was finally able to get myself to the dentist as an adult.

I was able to ignore my discomfort most days, as all of the techniques I used above worked to reduce pain. When I was nineteen, I realized that I could not avoid this anymore. My mouth felt like a ticking time bomb for excruciating pain. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. I, for the life of me, could not understand why going to the dentist felt like a monumental task. I would ask my friends, “you know that whole-body sensation you get when you smell a dentist’s office?” They looked at me like I had three heads, and I felt utterly broken. At this point, I was even scared to bring this up to my therapist as I genuinely believed that I shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to this. I did a search of dentists in San Francisco that took my dental insurance and made an appointment with the first ones I discovered, which was, in hindsight, a bad idea. During that appointment, I was lectured about how “if I had just brushed my teeth better, I wouldn’t be in this situation, and how I would be in this situation again if I didn’t start brushing.” They did not want to hear about the fact that I have sexual trauma in the hands of a dentist, which caused me to avoid them with all the power in me. They got frustrated at my lack of communication. I did not make a follow-up appointment.

At a loss, I still knew I was in desperate need of dental work but couldn’t figure out how to get it. I decided to search for another dentist, but this time, I attempted to find one that was sensitive to people with extreme dental phobias. This time I did my research and made an appointment. Our exam went as well as it could have, and I learned I had a cavity in almost every tooth. I needed at least one tooth pulled and a root canal. I felt comfortable scheduling a follow-up appointment to work on my fillings. We were able to fill two teeth. However, my dentist informed me that she did not feel comfortable moving forward with additional treatment due to my PTSD reactions in the chair. It was as if every single muscle was tensing my body. I kept having multiple panic attacks (even with a benzodiazepine) and could not, for the life of me, take a deep breath. I was having visual flashbacks and visceral sensations that were unbearable. My dentist’s suggestion was a sleep dentistry clinic where they would put me under general anesthesia and take care of all my teeth at the same time. While a great idea, it just wasn’t practical. During the consultation, I was quoted over three thousand dollars for the procedure. As you can imagine, this was incredibly discouraging and caused me to put this on the back burner for a little bit longer.

In early 2019, I hit a breaking point as my discomfort intensified. I didn’t want to live like this anymore but had no idea how to work through it. I sat down during my weekly therapy session and broke down as I described what I was going through in great detail. The skill I appreciate the most about my former therapist was their ability to manage crises with ease and without trying to solve the problem immediately. They helped me internalize the fact that I’m genuinely working on this and am making progress. I struggled a lot with the belief that I was procrastinating this when I was feeling and processing. I needed to give myself the space to acknowledge that something very horrifying happened to me, and I couldn’t remember what it was. I felt like I wasn’t going to be believed even though my symptoms said otherwise.

The first thing my therapist wanted me to do was to not make another dentist appointment without having a clear plan for how I was going to go about it. I was tense, I just wanted this to be over, but I was comforted while facing the reality that I needed to deal with this. More importantly, I grappled with the fact that I didn’t need to do it alone. Every time I took a step, it almost felt a little bit worse, but then it was relieving.

I made an appointment with my primary care doctor and explained my situation, the steps I’ve already taken, what my goals were, and asked for his guidance. He reached out to his networks and found a dentist that takes my insurance, and miraculously specializes in treating patients with severe trauma. I typed up a three-page document outlining my previous experiences, my needs, and my goals. I emailed this document to this dental office along with my x-rays and made an appointment.

We spent the first appointment just talking and getting to know each other. She educated me about the different tools she uses and how they work. She took a consent-based approach to the exam, which minimized panic. It didn’t cause it to go away entirely, but with a combination of medication, mindfulness, intentional preparation, and the patience of my dentist, it was manageable. Over eight months, we filled all my cavities, completed a root canal, and pulled my broken tooth. I am now cavity-free. During each appointment, I would still get these intense visceral sensations and flashbacks, but I also noticed that after each treatment, the trauma felt a little lighter. I’m able to take fuller breaths and get deeper into my yoga poses. Resolving this trauma to the extent I have thus far has shown significant benefit in my physical symptoms.

Having complex-PTSD, this is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the amount of trauma I’m actively working through. However, this was a massive step that I needed to take to continue moving forward in my life. Previously, I would get triggered, realize I’m in pain, then go off on a spiral about the state of my teeth. I still have bad days, but more often than not, I’m able to determine the source of my triggers, which ultimately helps me get grounded.