Tuesday, January 15, 2013

who's that cool kid with the mouth guard?


Part of my ongoing war against my brain has entailed visits with a neuromuscular therapist. If you suffer from anxiety or excessive stress, I cannot recommend this enough. Last month, I found a magic pixie of an NMT, and the constant tension in my shoulders has melted away.

Today she flipped me over and started poking around my neck and jaw. You guys, it was a revelation.

She asked if my jaw ever hurts. Yup.

And then asked if I ever get headaches. Oh, you mean how I wake up several mornings each week with terrible pounding in my temples?

(Note: if ever there was a way to make a depressed person any less likely to want to get out of bed in the morning, it is jackhammering at the temples.)

It's all caused by my teeth grinding. Apparently, not only will such a habit inflict pain upon your jaw, but those muscles that get activated also put strain on your neck, head, and face (thereby causing the neck pain and the headaches). 

I have ground my teeth since I was a child, and before that, I probably ground my gums. I've been told for years to get a mouth guard, but I haven't, probably for the same reasons that I have trouble getting myself to do a lot of things that I know would be good for me.

But when Dawn said it today, I listened. (Because she is magic.) So tonight, I'll be adding a little plastic to the bedtime routine. If you are anything like me, the word plastic would be jumping out at you as you worried about BPA and cancer and dinosaurs killing unicorns--did you have that Lisa Frank trapper keeper, too?--and whatever other terrible things plastic causes. But rest assured, my friends.

I made sure to get one that specifically says BPA-free. Score 1 for the anxiety-ridden girl with the mouth guard.

P.S. We did not get a juicer yesterday, because even though I checked online to make sure it was in stock at our Target, IT WAS NOT IN STOCK AT OUR TARGET. At that moment in time, that discovery was about equal to being told that your puppy just died. Melt. Down. You know it's bad if I can't even be happy at Target, the greatest place on earth. I came home and cried for about an hour because I knew my life was absolutely worthless. You know, because no juice. Ah, depression.