When you read this, I probably was drunk as hell and posted it just go get over with it. It’s such a touchy subject for me, that I get physically ill talking about it – or hearing people talk about it. But luckily for me, I’m an expert expressing myself through text.
I’m a girl with a lot of confidence. I’m confident about my appearance, body, personality – everything! But at the same time, behind that confident and happy surface lies a big black curse that keeps me awake every night. And it kills my confidence completely again. But I believe that by telling it to the public rather than keeping it inside for the rest of my life will make the situation better. To realize that it’s not my fault, I didn’t do it and everybody is different.
Haha, it’s such a big psychological barrier to start telling it. I just wanna row the boat far out and never look back – but it doesn’t work that way. I know that by telling this, I’m making myself so vulnerable. It’s that one thing you just can’t mention or ask me about, I will literally just run away crying. But OK, here it goes;
I was born with a tooth condition. I’ve never had enamel. I don’t know how well educated you are about teeth, but basically enamel is the strong protection-membrane around your teeth that prevents cavities and other complications. While a normal person can eat and drink whatever he/she wants, and prevent cavities by normal dental hygiene – I can’t even eat fruit without expecting problems. Going to the dentist is always a big pain in the ass, and believe me; I do NOT have anxiety, it’s impossible with my condition. I fall asleep at the dentist… Last time I had a big round with my mouth, my dentist suggested a control every third month instead of every year which is normal routine for a normal person.
My frontal tooth (1,1) is dead. I fell on a bike-trip when I was 8, and for a period of about 9 years it died. No dentists had noticed it in the meantime, luckily something my last dentist (and boss) discovered – so he did a root canal treatment. As the tooth was already dead I didn’t feel anything (ask your parents what a treatment like that feels like…), and everything was good. Until a year later, when it started changing color…
Now here’s the big part of my story, and the root to my everyday hell.
At first, my Mom noticed a slight color change in my tooth. It was darker. Not significantly, not something I noticed from any possible angle in the mirror at least. I brought it up with my dentist/boss at work, but he wasn’t too worried about it. “OK, it’ll go away then I guess...” A few months later, he quit and left everything. Included me and my progressively bluer tooth. At this point, I had just turned 18 (goodbye free dental care!), and my condition was slowly blossoming again. Why didn’t I go to another dentist to have it fixed? Well, I’m not too damn fucking proud about this mouth, so opening it to a total stranger requires a lot of tears, courage and trust. And the years went on… At first it didn’t really bother me, I found my ways of making the blue tooth less visible. Avoiding curious kids, posing for pictures at angles where light hit the tooth to make it look normal (No Photoshop involved what so ever! Ah, who’s a good photographer?) or just smile with my mouth closed – but I lived a pretty normal life trying to convince myself that it just couldn’t get any bluer anymore, and that I’d better start saving up for this staggering cost of treatment for that day I gather courage enough to call a dentist.
Until last summer. Working with 600 kids having a lot of fun, made me cry in bed every night. Every week I got thousand of questions from kids asking why my tooth was black. Black?! Was it really that bad? Had all this lying to myself just made me overlook the truth? But by this time, it wasn’t just about economy and trust-issues anymore. Now it was a truly psychological damage. It wasn’t about my condition or the mistakes of my dentist anymore, it was personal. And how the hell was I supposed to book an appointment with a dentist, when I couldn’t even tell anyone how I felt about it anymore? I didn’t answer my Mom when she tried bringing it up, I never even brought it up with my psychiatrist before we ended treatment and she quit. And now, it has grown to be the biggest and most exhausting problem I have!
I don’t smile with my mouth open anymore. I barely smile when talking to people in fear of showing my grin just a tiny bit. I barely TALK to people anymore. It’s like this big black infected lump just took over my face, and no one can’t avoid staring and wondering.
I am so ashamed. I am so ashamed, that the first thing I did in the morning of February 4th was to call a dentist and set up an appointment. “For how long, is it just a control?” “Make it 40, 10 min control and 30 min therapy…” So hopefully by the summer, I can smile, laugh, make faces and really truly be confident for the first time in many, many years. That such a small correction will give me a whole new look, and make me feel like a whole new person. Wednesday 26th of February, my journey to a literally whole new life begins, and I’ve never been so terrified and happy at the same time. The whole treatment will probably cost the same as a drivers licence and a decent 2012 car – but I need my life back more.
Edit; Writing this made me realize I must have some really huge trust issues, when important trustees like my dentist and psychiatrist quit and left the city/country… ♪What doesn’t kill you makes you stroooonger♪