So you’ve joined in for part two of my five-part blog series on how I overcame my fear of dentists. I’ve actually received a lot of comments over the last week about my post, with some of you completely understanding where six year old me was coming from, and some of you calling me words that I don’t wish to repeat. But regardless of the reason you’ve tuned in for part two, thanks for coming along for the ride. Hopefully, over the next couple of posts, I prove to the haters just how valid my fear of dentists really was.
Between the age of seven and thirteen, I, fortunately, got to avoid going to the dentist. We got a free check-up every year with my parent’s health insurance, but I refused to go. I never wanted to go to the dentist ever again, let alone go by choice every single year. My parents were mad that I was wasting their money, but they also knew how scared I was so they didn’t push the issue.
That was until I had lost all my baby teeth and my adult teeth came through crooked. I told my parents that I didn’t care and liked my teeth the way they were, but they insisted that I needed orthodontics. I cried harder at that moment than I had ever before. I’ll never forget the hallowing feeling in my stomach when my parents said that I had no choice but to go.
The whole braces saga went for three years. Three years of dentist appointments every three months. Three years of ulcers and braces tightening. Three years of devastating anxiety every time I had an appointment at the Cheltenham dentist. My parents would always try and calm me down by saying that the dentist was the best in the business and had done nothing but get great results from my orthodontic treatment. But it wasn’t enough, I could never get over my fear.