I hadn’t been to the dentist in almost 10 years. I know. I chalk up my resistance to the fact that I grew up going to one who must have trained under Sweeney Todd.

I can only think of a couple of body parts I like, or use, as much as my mouth. From breathing to eating to kissing, everything that sustains me starts there. Yet, besides a bit of a brushing a couple of times a day, I don’t pay it much attention.

The hygienist showed no hint of judgment as she scraped away a decade of neglect. I lay on my back in the chair and wondered how it is that I don’t choose to take better care of something I kind of depend on – all the time. Heck, I get the oil changed in my car every six months.   It has to be more than just a fear of cavities.

I was asked by someone yesterday if I have ‘receiving issues’. It was in relation to how I charge, or not, for my consulting – but of course I extended the question. It has to do with the value I place on myself, and what I think I am worth. I remember someone praising me, and stopping them short saying “I keep waiting for the ‘but’”.

What do I deserve? Anything? When is it a good thing to pay attention to myself? How fine is the line between self care and absorption?

The tools of the trade have changed since the last time I was in the chair, but it’s uncanny how they still insist on asking complex questions while I have my mouth full of their equipment and fingers  She finally finished, and I left the office running my tongue across the back of my teeth. It honestly felt good.