My grandkids are the same way—one wants to know every single detail, the other just zones out with her tablet and doesn’t care what’s happening as long as she’s got her comfort stuff. I used to think talking things through would always help, but honestly, sometimes less is more. I remember when my own kids were little, letting them bring their favorite toy or even a weird snack made all the difference. Funny how those little routines stick, even when they get older.
Those comfort routines really do matter, don’t they? I’ve found sometimes it’s not the big pep talks but just letting them have their favorite hoodie or snack that makes things smoother. It’s funny how what works for one kid totally misses with another. You’re doing great—figuring out what helps each of them is half the battle.
I get anxious even thinking about the dentist, and I'm nearly 70. For me, it's not about pep talks either—I've always needed something familiar, like my own scarf or even just my old watch on my wrist. I remember once my daughter tried to distract me with music, but honestly, it just made me more jumpy. Sometimes the little comforts, the ones that seem trivial, are the only thing that keep me from bolting out of the waiting room. It's not always logical, but it works. I do wish dentists understood that more often.
It’s wild how something as simple as a familiar object can make all the difference. I’m gearing up for my first dental appointment in…well, decades, and the anxiety is unreal. I tried reading up on “distraction techniques” like music or breathing exercises, but honestly, it just makes me hyper-aware of everything. Like you, I find those little rituals—slipping on my old sweater or even keeping a specific pen in my pocket—are oddly grounding. It’s not logical, but it’s real.
My partner thought I’d do better with a podcast in my ears, but even that backfired. Instead of calming me down, it felt like more noise layered on top of the nerves. There’s something about the predictability of your own things—your scarf, your watch—that feels safer than anything else people suggest. I sometimes wonder if dentists notice when you’re clutching onto something for dear life or if it just blends into the background for them.
One thing I wish they’d acknowledge is that “comfort” isn’t always universal. Some folks want distractions and pep talks; others (like us) just want to hang onto what’s familiar. Last time I sat in a waiting room, I counted the tiles on the ceiling and focused on the pattern of my shoelaces. Not exactly a textbook coping mechanism, but it worked better than any app or guided meditation.
What gets me is how unpredictable the anxiety can be. Sometimes even thinking about making the appointment gets my heart racing, but then sitting in the chair with my old jacket on? That makes it bearable. Maybe comfort is just whatever keeps you from running out the door, no matter how small or silly it seems.
Anyway, you’re definitely not alone in needing those little anchors. If it works—even if nobody else gets why—it’s worth holding onto.
I get this so much. I tried the podcast thing too and it just made me more tense—like, now I’m stressed with someone talking in my ear on top of everything else. For me, just having my hoodie on helps. Sometimes I even keep my hands in the pocket and just focus on the fabric. It’s weird how tiny things make a difference, but honestly, whatever works, right? Not sure dentists really notice, but I’d rather look a little odd than feel like I’m about to bolt.
