When the body Says No: A Lesson in Sensory Overload and Self-Compassion
Yesterday, I went to the dentist for what should have been a simple root canal. But what I didn’t expect was how deeply my sensory processing disorder would affect me in that space. I found myself overwhelmed and unable to cope, leading to a complete meltdown. I’m writing about this experience because it offered me profound insight not only into my own nervous system but also into what my children, who face sensory challenges, must feel every day.
The dentist’s office was a whirlwind of sensations: the bright lights, the sterile chemical smells, the buzzing of tools, and the tugging sensations in my mouth. I walked in prepared, ready to fix my tooth and not be in pain anymore. This wasn’t my first root canal, but it’s been nearly 20 years, many seasons of life and 3 kids later. After the first hour of changing sensations, 5 shots of numbing and a plastic dental dam overing my whole face, I found myself almost instantly overwhelmed. I really needed to pee, I was starting to get cold, the pain was setting in and I couldn’t breathe well. My heart rate quickened, and my breath shortened. Despite trying to stay calm, the noise and pressure overwhelmed me until I was shaking, hyperventilating, and in tears. I told the dentist to keep going, and as he sent another needle into my gums I jumped up in a yelp. My body simply couldn’t continue.
Emotionally, I felt helpless, frustrated, and vulnerable. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t finish and felt defeated by my body’s response. It was a moment where my mind wanted to push through, but my nervous system said no.
That moment made me think of my children, who face sensory challenges daily. Their meltdowns are not tantrums but responses to overload — just like mine. It gave me new compassion for their experiences and a renewed sense of patience. I sat there, tears streaming down my face, trying to catch my breath, thinking of just a couple weeks ago Sariah went in for a crown and extraction. Before they could finish she flipped out. I could see the overwhelm coming, and thought we could make it through. But SHE couldn’t; her body couldn’t. In that moment I felt everything she felt.
This experience also made me realize how the weight I carry — managing responsibilities, caring for others, and constantly staying “on” — taxes my nervous system. Sometimes it only takes one more stressor, however small, for everything to collapse. This reminded me how crucial it is to support our nervous systems every day. Practices like grounding, breathwork, taking moments of quiet, and listening to my body’s needs are not luxuries; they are essential.
I’m learning to give myself grace. My meltdown wasn’t weakness — it was my body communicating its limits. We all need to honor those moments and meet them with kindness rather than judgment. Though I apologized to my dental team, I was genuinely proud if myself for allowing the emotions to flow, without holding it all in, pushing through, or “dealing with it’. I honored my body. And that, is a huge milestone in my healing journey.
This experience taught me that caring for my nervous system is an ongoing practice. If you’re reading this and feeling the weight of your own overwhelm, I invite you to pause, breathe, and check in with yourself. Offer yourself the same compassion you’d give to a loved one, and remember: you are not alone in this journey.
