Lessons

As I said when I first started this blog, it would be about several different things, but one of them would be caregiving.  I didn't really think about it having a focus on self-care at the time, but that has been a recent theme in my life so it makes sense for it to come out here as well.

As I'm on hour 54 of my recovery from a tooth extraction, I feel the need to explain the emotional process behind this procedure.  This is my blog.  It is my own personal therapy.  So, no need to read on if you don't want to.  For some of you, this will be a little much, but I am a firm believer in the mind-body connection.

At the age of 18, I received a root canal on my last molar (my wisdom teeth weren't in yet).  I vividly remember that root canal.  It was my dentist who performed it and he walked me through it step by step.  I've had two root canals since that one and the process seems to be significantly easier than it was 26 years ago.  Nonetheless, the procedure itself wasn't all that bad (although it was three appointments).  However, I do remember house sitting and being in throbbing pain after one of the appointments.  I remember very vividly lying on the couch in tears.

Over the years, that tooth continued to give me problems.  About 10 years ago, it had become mostly a silver filling and very little tooth.  I always wanted to get that filling replaced with something that wasn't silver and full of mercury.  

Seven years ago, I had moved back in with my husband after having been separated a year.  This move was against my therapist's recommendation, it was against friend's recommendations, it was even against some family recommendations.  Most of all, it was absolute opposite of what my heart wanted.  But my head told me I needed to try to save my marriage.  Not for me, but for my children.  I was in love with someone else.  I left him to return to a marriage that no longer existed in an attempt to follow the rules.  I was going back because I felt I had broken rules and the rule follower in me was fighting to right that wrong.  And I understand now that I was going back, in part, perhaps in large part, because my entire life had been an effort to make my mom proud of me and I knew she was disappointed in me and I needed to fix that problem as well.  I will never forget the moment I told her I was going back.  She looked at me, smiled and said, "I have been praying for this!".  I'll also never forget how I felt in that moment....that I was giving up everything that I wanted, everything that made me feel right...in order to make my mom happy so that she would love me again.

The background story is much deeper, but suffice it to say that my mom's pregnancy with me was a surprise.  I always knew that and that's the message I grew up with.  I always felt I had to fight for her love.  My mom absolutely did the best she could with what she had available to her.  She wasn't a bad person.  She sacrificed nearly everything she ever wanted for her kids.  I learned that from her. Her mom judged her harshly.  She often told me that she never wanted a daughter because she didn't feel she could be a good mom to a daughter.  Please understand that I don't blame my mother for my choices.  They were, and are, my choices.  She and I reconciled our differences as she was dying from cancer.  But it is important to understand from where I've come over the past 8 years.

The day I walked back in to my old house, my old life, I knew I had made the greatest mistake of my life.  I cried for nearly three days straight.  Sobbing cries.  In following my brain, I destroyed my heart.  And within days of moving back in, a huge chunk of that offending tooth fell out.  Because I had had a root canal, there was no pain except for the constant sharp edges that shredded up my tongue.  

The following year was absolute pure hell.  For everyone in that house, especially my children...the ones I thought I was trying to protect by going back.  I spent an entire year trying to figure out how to leave again, how to go from being a stay-at-home mom to bringing in some sort of income.  Every day was a fight.  Every day was a battle.  And then, finally, 13 months after I moved in, I was out again and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that in order to survive, I had to move on regardless of the "rules" and regardless of how my mom felt about my choices.  

Two years later, my mom was gone.  We didn't speak much until she got sick, and then, as I said, we resolved our differences.  She spoke to me differently than she had my entire life.  At one point, in a hospital waiting room, she said to my boys, with her back turned to me, but within hearing distance, purposefully, "Your mom is a much better mom to you than I ever was to her.  You're lucky boys."  As I was tucking her in to bed one day, she grabbed my hand, looked up at me and said, "You don't have to do this.  I don't deserve it."  Taking care of my mom as she was dying was exhausting and heartbreaking and cathartic at the same time.  My mom and I expressed our love to each other in ways only she and I could do.  When she died I knew that she loved me and she knew I loved her.  I still miss my mom.  But what I have learned over the past four years is that what I miss more is the fantasy mom that I never got to have.  

Now, I know that many of us don't get our fantasy mom.  I also know that if I could have reconciled this issue before my mom died, maybe my mom and I could have had a different relationship where I didn't have certain expectations of her that she couldn't meet.  Nonetheless, my journey the last four years since she has been gone is to understand the relationship I had with her and the lessons I learned and the false stories I told myself over the course of my life that brought me to where I am today.

So, back to my tooth...more of it has fallen off over the past several years.  A year ago, my dentist suggested it go because there simply was no good fix for it anymore.  My gums had become so sensitive around it.  I had to have a crown put on the tooth in front of it because food got stuck between those two teeth and had damaged the front tooth.  I had to have a toothpick with me everywhere I went because so much stuff got stuck in there.  My dentist said he thought he could pull it, but that it would likely come apart in pieces and would take about an hour so, because of my dental anxiety, he felt I should be sedated.  I had never been sedated before and I hate medication, but I agreed to do it in order to get rid of the tooth.  I took the medication as required an hour before the appointment, but it had no effect whatsoever.  The staff asked me if I had taken the pill when I got there.  My dentist looked at me and said, "Well, that didn't work at all".  Ha...I'm convinced my natural anxiety level laughed at that sedative because generally medication hits me hard and fast.  So...after gearing myself up that day, I left the office with my tooth still in my mouth and a referral to an oral surgeon.  

It took me several weeks to make the appointment with the surgeon.  I talked to my therapist about my anxiety surrounding this tooth-pulling.  She and I looked up teeth in a mind/body connection book.  Here's what we found.  The 8 teeth on the lower left are "linked with the realization of a person's emotional sensitivity" and that "a problem with one of these teeth indicates lack of emotional recognition within the family".  It then goes on to say that dental problems on the left side are "an indication of unresolved issues with your mother".  And I cried...but wait...I resolved my issues, right?  I did that when she was sick.  But as I delved deeper it became obvious that although I had resolved things WITH my mom, there was still work to be done in my own heart.  I began to really work through some issues that were plaguing me.  I finally went in and met with the oral surgeon but left that office in tears after the doctor made it clear that it would be ridiculous to pull the tooth and not do an implant.  He told me that my dentist was wrong to tell me otherwise (yes...the dentist that referred me to him).  I left with a $5000 quote and 4 prescriptions to take PRIOR to surgery.  I am allergic to many antibiotics and had no desire to take a prescription "just in case".  The rule follower in me told me I had to do what I was told.  But I had been learning to follow my heart and my heart said this was the wrong surgeon.  I was learning to find my own voice.  I knew I deserved to have my own voice.  I listened to my heart and I cancelled the appointment to pull my tooth.

Over the following weeks, I taught three childbirth classes.  In each class I had a dentist.  Each class.  I heard the universe's message and asked one of the dentists for his oral surgeon referral.  He gave me a name of a surgeon who I had heard of before.  It still took me a few weeks, but I finally called.  Two weeks ago, I met him for a consultation.  He was friendly and made it clear he didn't think I needed an implant.  He told me that, yes, the tooth would likely come out in pieces, but that it would be a fairly straightforward procedure.  I left with a quote of $250 and no prescriptions.  I said I would call to make an appointment.  I waited a few days, but my heart was now telling me that I had done my work.  It was time.

As I left the surgeon's office with my tooth in a sealed plastic bag 2 days ago, I stared at it.  I would post a picture here, but it is disturbing.  Everything above the root line is black.  That tooth was just seeping mercury into me and, at the same time, draining me of so much.  Having that tooth gone is a very, very long journey and it is not simply about a tooth.  It is about my voice.  It is about my story and how I am changing it.  My therapist told me that I likely wouldn't be able to get the tooth pulled until I could have something to fill the space because the universe doesn't like a vacuum.  It was one day about 3 weeks ago when I just KNEW.  I was going to fill that space with MY voice.  And I have been practicing.  I have been speaking up when I would otherwise remain quiet.  I have been been asking for what I need.  I am working on being proud of who I am today, not trying to become someone that I think other people think I should be.  I have made ENORMOUS changes in my life in the last week.  And now that tooth sits on my night stand.  I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but I know some ceremony needs to take place.  It is not simply a tooth.  It represents freedom to me.

And then one more little lesson in the past couple of days.  I do not have to be a martyr.  This is a big one for me and one I know needs to be addressed.  I don't like pain meds.  I have a prescription but haven't felt the need to take the prescription.  I was authorized to take 2-3 200mg ibuprofen every 6 hours for the first 2-3 days.  I took one 200mg ibuprofen when I got home from the oral surgeon's office and another 4 hours later.  That was it.  Then last night, I found myself in some decent discomfort.  I fought that ibuprofen.  Interesting how I choose the "rules" I am okay with following.  My internal rules about pain meds are apparently larger than the rules given to me by my oral surgeon.  Finally last night, I surrendered.  Ahhh...surrender...it is my deepest lesson.  I allowed myself the ibuprofen and I have taken two today.  I do not have to suffer.  I removed a part of my body and a huge emotional block two days ago.  There is going to be some discomfort as my body adjusts.  And it is okay to not have to suffer.  Martyrdom does no one any good.  

And so I move forward in healing both my body and my heart.  I go forward in changing my story.  And I fill the space of my tooth with my own voice.  I fill the space with self-care.  It is not a fast journey.  You don't change a lifetime story in one day.  But it is a shift in my path.  It is a different road.  It is not entirely comfortable yet.  But as I continue to walk this path, I see more light than dark.  I know it is the right path.  Of course, none of us ever know where paths in life will lead, but I'm excited to walk this one for a while.  

Good-bye old tooth.  Thank you for the 26 years of lessons.  I'm ready to go on without you now.  :)