I have bad teeth. Both of my parents did. I think I may be the worst of my siblings, but I’m sure my bulimia didn’t do me any favors.
In May of 2025, I started going to a new dentist. Dr. S. spent the first several minutes asking general questions and conducting the initial exam. Then she pulled back a little, paused a second, and asked permission to ask a personal question. I felt comfortable so I agreed but it wasn’t what I had expected.
She asked if I was bulimic. I didn’t hesitate. I told her I had been for most of my twenties. I also shared that no one I had gone to previously had ever asked.
Perhaps it was because she was my first female dentist. I wonder if others noticed but didn’t know how to ask. Maybe she was just more in tune. I don’t know. But the way she did it was in such a kind and understanding way. I am grateful that she made it safe for me to disclose.
Maybe there’s a new protocol now – similar to when you go to your doctor’s office and they ask questions regarding your mental health. Maybe dentists are more compelled and feel comfortable asking ones related to their work and mental health issues. I think that’s a good idea and hopefully more in the field will be inclined to ask.
I went back to her recently because a tooth cracked. In full disclosure, over the past several months I’ve already had two teeth pulled on one side and have the foundation for implants. Another tooth was pulled in the back that I won’t replace. It’s likely that I will have more. As I share all of this I’m stressing out a bit wondering if when I’m out talking with people in person, they’re going to focus on my mouth. Gee, I was just thinking how I could use a little more anxiety in my life.
I mentioned something in a previous post about the dreams I have that stay with me. I swear mine are the stuff that they make horror movies from. I fell asleep knowing that I was going to see Dr. S. the next day. That likely triggered a special kind of terror for my subconscious.
I dreamt about how just touching a tooth caused it to fall out. I was in such disbelief that I kept thinking, “Surely another one couldn’t come out”, but they did. I think I was at ten down. My mind and body were experiencing such trauma that I was able to wake myself up from the nightmare.
I’m sure it was in anticipation that she wasn’t going to be able to fix my cracked tooth. And I can’t really do anything about these issues until I have a job – or I die. Dr. S. confirmed that the tooth that had partially broken off couldn’t be saved.
After I left the office I realized I hadn’t taken back my broken tooth to put under my pillow. At least I could have gotten a dollar out of it. Then I realized since I’m the tooth fairy I wouldn’t really get out ahead on that one.
What types of adverse effects have you experienced related to your eating disorder?
#fear #reality #unpredictable
