The treatments began, and oh wow, they were as to be expected. Total hell. See, the good news is, I was able to keep my bottom teeth. But not without lots of work. I have been sorta, kinda, maybe anxiety free for the last five years. Meaning, panic disorder had taken somewhat of a back seat to my actual life. But being back in the chair, that soon changed. Next thing I knew, I was panicking everyday, and needless, driving my ever-patient partner up the freaking wall. Love you babe.
Alongside my torture, was the tennis match of my self esteem. One does not simply be ok with false teeth. Especially when one polls peers and strangers and the overwhelming response is negative. "Omg! I could never do that!" "Why wouldn't you just go to Thailand and get implants?" "Dentures? They're for old people." However, faced with no choice, these babies were coming out no matter what my sub-conscious felt about the situation. Implants are off the table. At at least 40,000 a pop, Australian, (Thailand is not an option) I had to be cool with this. Besides, I can barely go through a crown without breaking down, no way was I going the whole implant procedure. Way we figured it, this is the best interim-at-least choice. Maybe in time, I can be strong enough to handle implants.
However, being down with this decision still meant work on acceptance. I watched YouTube videos of other young women who had gone through what I'm about to, and it was somewhat comforting. They looked gorgeous.

Can't say how I'll be next week. But for all you out there suffering, talk to me kids. Let's do this anxiety shit together.