This year, I am getting two crowns for Christmas. Not the thousand-petaled lotus atop the chakras; not the bejeweled adornment worn by royalty, but the crowns that require time in a dentist chair. People do this all the time right?
For reasons I do not know, this is my present darkness. I sit in the reclining chair at the office of my new dentist and I am tense, tearful, and frightened. They are removing old fillings and preparing my molars for the crowns. There is a lot of drilling. My tongue doesn’t know what to do and my breath has tightened. It is not my first time to have major dental work done, but my first time in many years. Just when I think I’ve convinced myself that “it’s no big deal”, the dark veil of shame overtakes me. I am ashamed of my lousy teeth, of my lack of dental care as a child, of my need for two crowns now. I feel shame for the way this reflects on my otherwise healthy body, as if my mouth is the source of all evil. I feel shame for having to spend thousands of dollars (even with good insurance) to maintain my teeth and my smile.
Carl Jung says “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
This shadow of shame starts expanding. I am in a funk for days. I feel shame for every lie I remember telling, for the wrong choices I have made, for the people I have harmed (with & without intention). I feel shame for leaving my marriage, for not being at my sister’s high school graduation, for frivolous spending, for judging and comparing myself to other people. I drop into a well of thick and slimy thoughts about any and all of my character flaws. I spiral in pity and self-loathing. My open mouth drools and my unsorted tongue becomes rigid. “What is this all about?” my rational mind asks.
This darkness starts to be familiar. As a 20-something year-old young person struggling to support myself, I had to by-pass concerts, dance raves and ski days with friends because I had to get root canals. Back in the 80s, that required multiple visits to the dentist. I would cry in the dental chair of Dr. Greco as I looked out his windows to the Boston Commons. I believe I was still writing checks to him for years after I left Boston. How long have I been carrying, embodying, brushing, and flossing around all these feelings?
“In the midst of gathering darkness, light becomes more evident” -Bonnie Bostrom
As the fog begins to clear, I remember how some of this shame started. It was the sense of being broken, imperfect, and vulnerable. It was hard candy, bubble gum, and little supervision. Trust me, there were and are plenty of imperfections in my life. Somehow having a wide array of dental issues felt like an outward expression of my inward pain. Is that where all these stories come from? Hmmmm.
My rational mind tries again: “genetics are part of this equation”. I remember seeing my grandmother’s dentures in a glass at her bedside. My aunt used to tell me stories of how her teeth would ache. Maybe I simply wanted better for myself? Certainly, I wanted better for my children.
In her book You Can Heal Your Life, Louise Hay associates dental problems with being indecisive, as well as a sense of resentment, anger, or a desire for revenge. She believed that the body reflects the mind, so a healthy mind is key to physical well-being. To address dental problems, she suggested using affirmations like “I have a beautiful smile,” “I am loved,” or “I can make decisions with ease.” So for now, I am choosing the affirmation of “I am loved”. At the end of the day, I think that is all I want; maybe that is all any of us wants.
My evil mouth has taken me on this crazy ride. I decided to lean in and feel it. I let myself feel irresponsible, neglectful, and foolish. I welcomed all the old familiar feelings of being broken, abandoned, and vulnerable. I let myself wallow in shame. Next week I get my crowns.
For the patient in the waiting room next to me, I suppose it is just a dental appointment and procedure. Whatever these stories of shame I have been telling myself and feeling, I am ready to let them go. I am ready to bring light to my mouth, to my gums, to the old stories, and to my voice.
It is time to BRING LIGHT.