The Part of Me Who Always Thinks She’s in Trouble

On fear, performance, and staying with myself when I spiral

I avoided my orthodontist for a year. Yes, an entire year.
I have Invisalign, and I’ve had them for two years now — WAY longer than anticipated…

A few weeks ago, I finally booked my follow-up, totally riddled with shame and already running through excuses in my head—
Why haven’t I come?
Why have I been inconsistent?
Why haven’t I worn them like I was supposed to?
Why, why, why.

As I go into the office and sit in the dentist chair (why do these chairs feel extra vulnerable?) I find myself chatting with the assistant way more than usual—I can sense my people-pleaser thinking that if she likes me enough, maybe that will somehow soften the blow when the orthodontist becomes upset with me, as I anticipate he will be.

She leans me back, and then my ortho walks over.

“Hey Stephanie! What tray are you on?”

I tell him the number, hesitating, bracing myself for a sigh or some subtle you really should be further along by now chat.

Instead, he looks at me and says,
“You’ve had these for two years now—you must be so burnt out.” It isn’t carried with a tone of disappointment, but rather, the opposite; empathy.

And while he was just talking about Invisalign, I felt that tenderness go all the way down to my bones in all the areas of my life I feel exhausted in.

I am burnt out.

I didn’t feel the shame I thought I would.
I felt kindness. Like my ortho somehow shape-shifted into my therapist.
A softness that somehow saw the real reason why I’d slid back.

He looks at my teeth and says,
“We still have a ways to go, so just keep it up.
We can be done by summer if you wear them often enough—or by winter.
It’s up to you. Either way, is okay.” He softly smiles and walks away.

I got out of the chair, walked to my car, and felt my whole nervous system exhale.

Why do I always think I’m in trouble?
Why do I anticipate punishment, even when no one’s threatening it?

My childhood wasn’t like that. My parents were calm and loving. I was never punished in my struggling; I was always heard.
But still, I find myself waiting for the moment someone tells me I’ve disappointed them.
And as I’ve been building Good Girls Make Bad Art, this question has shown up over and over again. Not just from me, but from all the women who feel they have to be “good girls” in order to deserve to exhale.

Is it societal conditioning?
Is it me? If we all feel it, then I am leaning on the former.

I’ve stopped asking myself so much.
Stopped digging and analyzing and doing EMDR on every root of every fear.
Now, I just stay with it. I sit with her.
Witness her.
SEE the scared little part of me—the one trying so hard to be good, and just be with her.

Maybe that’s all we can do.
Just sit with her.
Let her know we see her. That her fears are so valid, but maybe we can just exhale a little bit more.
And remember:
Our orthodontist isn’t here to tell us what a bad job we’re doing. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling ourselves that, either.

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