‘Don't make her angry. Don't upset her.’

Riddled with fear and anxiety, I was dreading my second visit to the dentist. Given that the day before she'd already ignored my request for pain management. Having your root canal done is stressful, even more so when you are on holiday.

I was sitting in the dentist’s chair and asked her once more about the anaesthetic. With obvious annoyance, she pointed to the syringe on the table. That was supposed to reassure me but somehow it didn't.

Seconds later she proceeded to pull out my roots WITHOUT the anaesthetic.

Shock.

Both physical and emotional. I could feel the blood from my extremities being pulled back to my core — my body was preparing to shut down. The pain was too much to handle.

My fingers clenched. I had no control over them. Cold sweat. My vision and hearing stopped working. I was hot and cold. I just wanted to escape from my body.

After a snarky remark from her, and in between me losing consciousness on that chair, I vaguely remember the urge to apologise to her.

Photo by Hailey Kean on Unsplash

Experiencing extreme pain while depending on the very person who causes it. Intolerable. 

I apologised to her.

In the following weeks, when I had returned to my normal routine back home, the anger started to emerge.

Why did she do that? I am an adult — why didn't she respect my request? 

But also why didn't I say something? And as an adult, why didn't I insist more, or just leave?

Why did I appease — to ensure survival, or was it self-betrayal? Was it both?

The body never ceases to amaze. The nervous system doesn't ask permission. It calculates and acts — faster than conscious thought can follow.

At that moment my best bet was appeasement.

I remember observing a thought: 'don't make her angry, don't upset her'. It was more of a feeling than a thought.

I didn't want to argue with it or change it, nor did I have the energy to do so. I just trusted that my body knows better how to protect me.

I also wanted it to be my fault somehow because then I will have the power to do something, so that it never happens to me again.

And then, I wouldn't be blamed. 

By others, that is.

I could feel the mechanism kick in — the search for something, anything, I could have done differently. But I didn't find anything. Not this time.

A different kind of helplessness.

If this resonates — if you recognise something of your own experience here — I work with exactly this kind of material. You're welcome to reach out.