Balancing Chaos
The ADHD Spiral: How a Dentist Stabbed Me, and I Still Sat Through the Appointment
It All Started With a Pacifier…
Not mine. (Though, let’s be real, I probably needed one more than anyone.)
Back in January 2021, I was the general manager of a pizza joint—a gig that’s basically a daily circus of chaos.
Orders flying, ovens blazing, employees scrambling. But this day? This day was a special kind of hell.
Crisis #1: My Daughter’s Meltdown
In the back of the store, my autistic daughter hit full sensory overload. Kicking. Screaming. Thrashing like her little world was imploding. I’m crouched there with her, whispering, “It’s okay, baby, we got this,” while my heart’s pounding like a drumline. I’m trying to keep her safe, but my brain’s already splitting in half from the stress.
Crisis #2: The Cheese Lady
Meanwhile, out front, my 15-year-old employee’s fighting for their life against a customer I’m dubbing the Cheese Lady. She ordered a half cheese, half no-cheese pizza—like, lady, have you met cheese? It melts. It doesn’t give a damn about your lines. It oozes, it spreads, it does its cheesy thing. And she’s losing her mind, convinced we’re scamming her over microscopic cheese traces on the “no cheese” side. She’s yelling, “You’re sabotaging me!” while my poor kid’s just trying not to cry. I’m stuck in the back, juggling my daughter, and my ADHD brain’s like, “Yeah, this is fine. Totally fine.” Spoiler: It wasn’t.
And then, in the middle of this shitstorm, my ADHD brain pulls a move so dumb it’s almost impressive. I grab my daughter’s rubber pacifier—stress ball style—and bite down hard. CRACK. That’s the sound of my front incisor snapping in half. I freeze, run my tongue over it, and yep—it’s sharp, jagged, gone. What do I do? Do I sprint to a dentist like a normal human? Nah, I’m Justin, king of ADHD avoidance. I ignore it. For months. Because that’s just my chaotic life in a nutshell.
The Wedding That Forced My Hand
I rocked that busted tooth like a badge of honor for a while—until my brother Noah and his fiancée Victoria dropped the bomb: their wedding was set for June 20, 2021. Weddings mean pictures. Lots of pictures. And I couldn’t be that guy lurking in the back, half-smiling like I’m hiding a felony. So, for Noah, for Victoria, and for the sake of my face, I finally dragged myself to a dentist. I’m thinking, “Crown, smile, done.” Oh, how wrong I was.
The Dentist Visit: The Stabbing Incident
A few weeks before the wedding, I’m in the dentist’s chair, chatting with the hygienist, feeling chill for once. No meltdowns, no Cheese Lady—just me and some dental small talk. Then, out of nowhere, the dentist storms in like he’s late for a Marvel audition. No “hello,” no warning—just speedrun energy on steroids. Before I can blink, he grabs a Novocaine needle, adjusts the overhead light, and BAM—the light blinds me. I turn my head to the left on instinct, and… STAB. He impales me through my right cheek, straight into my tongue, and pumps in Novocaine like it’s a race. There’s this long, awkward silence. I’m sitting there, processing the fact that I’ve been skewered. The hygienist looks like she’s seen a crime scene. The dentist? He’s blinking at me like I screwed up. Then—without a “sorry”—he yanks the needle out, shoves gauze in my hand, and STABS ME AGAIN. This time, dead-on perfect, like he didn’t just harpoon my face seconds ago. And me? I just… sat there. Like a damn fool.
The ADHD Paralysis Kicked In Hard
Let’s unpack why I didn’t bolt out of that chair screaming bloody murder. That’s my ADHD paralysis hitting like a freight train. I don’t know what twisted part of my neurodivergent brain decided that after getting stabbed in the face, the best move was to just sit there like a glitching NPC—but that’s what I did. I’m holding gauze to my cheek, numb as hell—emotionally and physically—while this guy keeps stabbing me in the right spots now. That’s how you know I’ve got some unresolved trauma responses baked into my ADHD soul. We know we should act—run, yell, something—but our brains just… nope out. Anyone else freeze like this? Tell me I’m not the only one riding this chaotic wave.
The Temporary Crown Arc (Or Lack Thereof)
After surviving that nightmare, I get a temporary crown. It’s fine… for a bit. Until I swallow it. Because, of course I do—I’m a walking disaster. And instead of marching back to the dentist, I pull the classic ADHD move: I avoid it. For years. Out of sight, out of mind—except it’s not, because every time I see my reflection, I’m reminded of my glorious mess.
The Grand Reckoning: March 24, 2025
Fast forward to now—March 2025. It’s been over four years since I broke my tooth in January 2021, and nearly four years since that wild dentist appointment before Noah and Victoria’s wedding on June 20, 2021. I’m finally going back to the dentist on March 24, 2025. Yeah, it took me that long to pull my head out of the sand. Noah and Victoria’s wedding forced me to get the first fix, but it wasn’t enough to break my ADHD avoidance cycle. Avoidance doesn’t make problems vanish—it just makes them worse… and funnier when I look back at the wreckage. So, I’m heading back for my face, my dignity, and maybe a shred of self-respect. If there’s one thing this ADHD spiral taught me, it’s that my brain loves a good mess—sometimes with a dentist and a needle thrown in. Wish me luck—or better yet, drop your worst dental horror story in the comments so I don’t feel like the lone idiot here.
#ADHD #Avoidance #DentalHorror #PleaseSendHelp
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