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How I Put On My Big Girl Pants

cw: In this issue of The Fold I talk about anxiety and a visit to the dentist. If either of these topics are no-go for you, I invite you to look at these pictures of cute animals.

Tl;dr: I used compassionate self-care to get through a stressful situation.

Note: Nothing in The Fold should be considered medical advice.

Prelude: The Nerve

I get panic attacks in doctors’ offices. The first time I was about 6 years old. I fainted. Over the next several decades, it happened again and again and again and again. Then a kind nurse told me, “You just had a panic attack.” No one had bothered to tell me that before.

Let me say a brief word on the difference between panic and fear. When I go to a doctor’s office, I’m not afraid. I’m calm. I know I’m in a safe place. And I know when the panic attack will begin, and about how long it will last. I always let the doctor / nurse / PA / etc. know what’s going to happen, because I don’t want THEM to panic. They usually tell me, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I know that. But my vagus nerve is not able to hear those words. So it happens anyway.

Panic attacks have nothing to do with fear. They are not a failing of bravery, character, resilience, or grit. They don’t care how big or small my body is. They don’t care how “strong” I am. It’s a function of the nervous system. It just happens.

The other people in the room don’t usually believe me, until it happens. Then I’m usually the one comforting them, telling them this is not an emergency, that it will go away after a few minutes. I’ve been through it so many times in so many different contexts that it’s just normal to me.

Fast Forward

I had to go to the dentist to have some cavities filled. And y’all, I have a superior dentist. Always professional, kind, and gentle. I’ve been in his chair many times and he’s seen me having panic attacks before. And I knew it would happen again.

Next Halloween, I’m going as Pants.​

Enter the Big Girl Pants

• I prepared myself for this dentist visit.
• I started by promising to give myself extra TLC and permission to rest that day.
• I cleared my schedule. I told everyone (besides the dentist) that I was unavailable.
• I scheduled the appointment for mid-morning, because having to be somewhere early is an insomnia trigger for me. (Thanks again, brain.)
• I successfully did not cancel the appointment out of stress. i.e., I showed up.
• I took my earbuds and ipod. I have a soothing playlist ready to go.
• I said yes to nitrous oxide.
• I gave myself permission to be quiet rather than social. I wasn’t hostile or anything, I just didn’t pressure myself to be “on.”
• I closed my eyes and rested in the chair. (Again: permission to rest.)
• I practiced some 4-7-8 breathing to activate my “rest and digest” system.
• When the panic attack inevitably arrived, I took slow, deep breaths, and told the staff what was happening. The assistant had the bright idea of using the air-blowing tool to help me cool off. So nice!
• When I needed a brief pause to take a deep breath, I asked for it. I made my needs known, and my needs were met.
• The rest of the procedure went swimmingly, and I drove home.
• On my way, I saw/smelled one or more barbecue joints and thought that sounded perfect. The ribs were not such a success, but the brisket and extra-soft side dishes were just the thing.
• I ate barbecue, watched Ted Lasso, and took a long nap.
• I patted myself on the back for doing something necessary but difficult, and for providing myself with extra care.

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And So Can You

I hope that this story is useful to you. I hope you give yourself permission to be extra loving and compassionate toward yourself, whether or not you’re going through something sticky.

Sometimes we have to do hard things. And we CAN do hard things. This is your permission to make the hard things easier on yourself through self-care.

A Gif For Those Who Read This Far

Congratulations, you made it through another day!

See you next time,​
xoxo Sarah