I've found it really challenging to track my progress through sexual abuse recovery because the process isn't linear. One day I feel significantly better and the next I feel bound to my bed, convinced the world is unsafe, and my body will never recover from the violence it had endured. Surprisingly, I have found an unconventional way to observe my improvement: I go to the dentist.
I hadn't been to the dentist in years. One, because I couldn't afford it, and, two, because I was protecting myself from the process. Often sexual abuse survivors suffer from TMD, Temporomandibular Disorders (often called TMJ), which are disorders in the jaw, joints, and surrounding muscles. Sexual trauma to the mouth area causes these muscles to be tight. As you know, dental examinations require that the patient keep their mouth open wide for a long period of time, while instruments are placed in the back of it. I'm sure that you can understand why this experience might be triggering for a sexual abuse survivor. I didn't know how to manage my triggers for years, but eventually, I had enough money and the right psychological support, to face my fear and go to the dentist.
Because I hadn't been in so long and had a no fluoride toothpaste hippie stage, I had lots of cavities. I had to go to the dentist over and over again for a period of six months to get these cavities filled. After the fillings were complete, I continued to go to the dentist every six months for a regular teeth cleaning just like everyone else.
When I first saw my dentist, I wrote on my paperwork that I had TMD. Immediately after reviewing it she asked, "TMD from sports or from trauma?" I candidly replied, "Well, probably both: I was a Division 1 Water Polo player in High School and College and was definitely kicked in the face a few times, but was also severely sexually abused as a child." She looked me, offered her condolences, called in a variety of assistants, and started to walk me through the process step by step. She knew what she was doing, she had clearly worked with trauma survivors in the past and was aware of the resources needed to get the job done.
One woman sat on my left and held my hand, another woman sat on right to assist the doctor, while the dentist herself was to do the work. "I'm going to talk you through this step by step, OK Anne?" my dentist gently voiced. I responded nervously, "OK." And she did just that. Throughout the procedure I cried and choked. I had to take a variety of breaks and let myself breathe. All the while, those three women were by my side, holding my hand, waiting for me to be ready for more.
Their support was imperative to getting me through the procedure and I clearly needed a lot of it. The next time I went to the dentist I cried and choked a little less. The next time I went, I only needed two women with me instead of three. The next time I went, I was able to laugh and crack jokes. The next time, I didn't cry at all. Finally there came a time when I only needed one woman, just the dentist, to clean my teeth.
Trigger management is really challenging, but I can track how I'm doing by the effortlessness of previously difficult activities: like going to the dentist. Now, I love going to the dentist! It's like a support reunion! Whenever I walk into that office door, my women greet me with a smile, affirm my progress, and most importantly tell me what a great job I'm doing cleaning my teeth. Thanks, Dr. P. and team, for your commitment to your work and mine!