After about a year of awakening every morning with a throbbing headache and my jaw clenched tight like a coiled spring, I finally made an appointment with my dentist to be fitted for an occlusal guard. This is a fancy way of saying I now wear a custom-molded piece of plastic in my mouth at night to prevent jaw clenching while I sleep.
I dreaded the fitting appointment for weeks prior. I have a teeny throw-up phobia and nightmarish memories of the gag-inducing Styrofoam fluoride treatment from my childhood, so the thought of a metal tray oozing with gunk had me Lamazing and visualizing the ocean before I’d even plunked into the dentist chair.
Miraculously, I survived the fitting procedure with nary a gag, and when I returned to the office two weeks later to pick up my custom-made guard, I discovered it wasn’t the linebacker-style apparatus I’d envisioned, but instead, a slim, dainty piece of plastic that slid almost unnoticeably over my bottom teeth.
“So, this is it?” I lisped to my dentist, running my tongue over the smooth mold. “This little piece of plastic is going to solve the whole jaw clenching headache problem?”
Apparently so. As my dentist explained, the plastic creates just enough space to keep my teeth slightly apart, thus relieving tension between my upper and lower jaw muscles.
“It’s a small amount of space,” she admitted, pinching her thumb and index finger together, “but it’s enough to make a difference.”
She was right. The morning after my first night with the occlusal guard, I lay in bed and wiggled my jaw from left to right and right to left. The movement felt fluid and supple. The stiffness was gone, the ache alleviated, the springs gently uncoiled. And my head didn’t hurt.
Last Sunday I thought about that conversation with my dentist, as I settled into my favorite spot in the sunroom with my bible, a slice of homemade orange spice bread and a cup of coffee on the table next to me.
My Sabbath Sundays aren’t always perfect. We still have basketball games and birthday parties to attend. Sometimes we argue. Occasionally I cheat on my technology fast and peek at my email. But for one hour, sometimes a little more, every Sunday morning, I rest. I carve out a bit of time, a small space in which I let myself unwind and uncoil.
When we get home from church at 10 a.m., I leave the breakfast dishes in the sink and the cereal boxes on the table and the crumbs scattered across the kitchen counters. I ignore the unmade beds and the dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. And while the kids fire up Super Mario Bros. on the Wii, I pull the fleece blanket from the basket, plump a pillow and settle into my spot facing the backyard birdfeeder. I sip my coffee and nibble the bread (which, let’s face it, is dessert masquerading as bread). I read a bit from the bible. Sometimes I scribble in my journal. But mostly, I gaze out the sunroom windows and watch the birds, grateful for the space to rest amid six harried days.
It’s a small space, that hour on Sunday mornings — just a sliver of time. You’d think it wouldn’t be enough. But it is. It’s enough space to unclench, uncoil and breathe; to rest. As my dentist would say, it’s just enough space to make a difference.
How are you finding your small space these days?
Michelle, I took the day off today, and your post is just on time for me. Time to shut down this computer and spend some much needed time in the Book…. I do wish I had a piece of that bread though…
Oh that “bread” was good. Truth be told, I had two pieces.
The words lamazing and visualizing the ocean had me wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I had to gather myself to finish. You are so incredibly funny. But I love this, I really do. You are a genius with story. The fact that you took a mouth guard and used to share the benefit of Sabbath and so eloquently I might add, is a gift my friend. And Im glad you are my friend btw.
You already knew about my barfy phobia – I’m glad I’m not the only one who has that issue!
And thank you – I am SO glad we are friends — can’t wait to see you in April!
I wear one of those really super attractive pieces of plastic, too. I have since I was 11, and I’ve actually snapped them in half because of my clenching and tooth grinding. =) You’re not alone. And yes….the fitting and molding gunk is gross.
In other news, though, this is a beautiful and beautifully written thought. Sabbath….it’s not just about rest, but about saying, “God, I believe you are who you say you are, and that the world will keep right on spinning even if I sit here in silence for a few minutes.” Thank you for the reminder.
I love what you said about the world continuing to spin, regardless of whether or not we take the time to rest. So true. I think it comes down to trust, too. When I am most overworked or pressed against a deadline, I am more inclined to “skip Sabbath.” But those are the times that trust comes into play.
At about the same age, I suffered with same clinching issue. Only difference, I was single, with two kids, no money and no dental insurance. So, I did the athletic mouth guard thing for a few bucks and it worked! Haven’t had to use it in years. Love your analogy. You are so gifted with words.
I wondered if I should just get one that the football players wear – it would have been a heck of a lot cheaper. I have dental insurance, but it didn’t cover the cost of the mouthguard. Apparently searing headaches and a sore jaw aren’t reason enough to require medical intervention.
So are you telling me when my kids are grown I’ll have less stress and won’t need to chomp down on a piece of plastic while I sleep?!
You’re making me grin that mischievous grin, again.
Beautiful and very funny illustration.
From a fellow night guard wearer,
Glenda
All the mouthguard wearers are coming out of the woodwork today! I love it – we should form a jaw-clencher support group!
“Just enough space to make a difference” — I like that! And that’s what I desperately need some days. The only way I find it is by discipline…by making myself look up and not around.
But I’m always glad I did…
Absolutely, Laura – discipline is key for me, too.
I had to go to the dentist last week to have a crown smoothed out because it cracked. He said I have a “hard bite.” When I asked what he meant, he said I was a clencher, too, and might have to have a guard. I went through a couple of weeks where I could hardly open my mouth to talk or eat. Sigh…
I wonder if that’s why I sometimes wake up with headaches. I thought it was because I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and it was too cold to get up.
Oh uh, Sandy, the headaches might be from the clenching…
Now see, this is Godspotting, right here. When you find God in a mouth guard, it’s–well–sublime.
Me too, a guard-wearing clencher. I didn’t know they make guards that fit on the lower teeth–mine snaps on over my upper teeth.
And I am really, really glad to hear that you applied your Lamaze training to other life situations. I was afraid I was the only one. Me, I do it when my husband’s driving scares me. (I’m generally calm, but since that tiny stroke in 1999 I am not a calm car-travel passenger.)
My poor mom pumps the faux brake in the passenger seat when I’m driving — I think I cause her the jaw-clench.
We are slowly getting back into our routine over here. I used to consider our routine a rut, and I probably will again. But for now, there seems to be more space in the ordinary than I realized before.
You know me, Deidra…I love my rut!
You are so good. I love the way you think and see … the way you Sabbath-ize. (Thanks for helping me through my rough spot today. In a way, you gave me enough space to make a difference.)
So glad it helped, Jennifer. I meant every word.
Oh I love this, for more reasons than one. The one, though, is that I’ve spent the past week dealing with a swollen jaw and a dental problem (pain! while away from home, no less) because of just that clenching. I need that space! Want to get fitted! Meanwhile, what a great metaphor for our need for that white space in sabbath, even if seemingly small.