I dreamed that my tooth fell out again. I know what the dream means: loss of control, helplessness and anxiety. It made sense literally and figuratively.
Here’s the literal stuff. Last Friday morning, we paid another visit to Riley’s dentist because he said the boo-boo on his tooth hurt. Since his fall, we’ve been to his dentist more often than I’ve been to Nordstrom. Thankfully there was no infection, but it’s starting to settle in that there’s no end in sight to this dental ordeal.
And now I have one of my own. On Friday afternoon, my tooth literally fell out. I put a mint in my mouth and half of a crown on one of my molars crumbled into pieces. I just came home from the dentist this morning where I was informed that I don’t need a crown restoration; rather, I need a root canal.
When the dentist said the words “root canal,” I cried. He was very sweet and handed me a tissue. I told him to ignore my tears. I said it was just that I felt overwhelmed (…and helpless, anxious, and nauseas because my world was spinning out of control). Don’t worry, I didn’t say the stuff in parentheses out loud. On the bright side, the root canal comes with a goody bag filled with narcotics to help with the pain, financial and otherwise.
Here’s the figurative stuff. This Thursday, Dylan begins OT sessions twice a week to tackle his sensory issues. I’m relieved to get started, but I’m also anxious about the hard work ahead and how long it will take to make progress. Also, without getting into too much detail (some things truly aren’t meant to be blogged about), I’m experiencing some tension with a friend that I don’t know how to relieve.
Yes, the teeth falling out of my mouth dream made a lot of sense.
I have anxiety. Most of the time it’s manageable, but when things start to feel uncertain,or they don’t have a definitive beginning, middle and end, or they feel unfixable, or they catch me off guard, or cost an unexpected fortune, I get frazzled. Amazingly, I just described motherhood.
So what do I do about it? The Lorazepam I took on Sunday afternoon definitely helped take the edge off, but I have to try harder than that. I must admit, though, it made me much more patient with the boys at bedtime.
I decided to look back at some of my blog entries on shopaholism, because anxiety is definitely at the root of that problem, too. “Reading. Writing. Running. Yoga. Repeat.” was a good read and a reminder to focus on activities that I can control (and that will keep me away from the mall), like sorting the three feet high stack of junk mail sitting on my dining room table or watching a show on the DVR. Yeah, “The GoodWife” sounds really good right now. Besides that, it’s back to the basics for me, or actually, the new basics: Reading. Writing. Walking (still too hot to run). Dentist. Repeat.