The tooth in the back of my mouth is dead. I knew it when the Endodontist winced at the lack of pain I felt as he surged a frozen stick into my mouth. I had cracked it down the middle over time, in my sleep.

In August, I moved to Vermont to get back on my feet and clear my head. I left my apartment behind with $80 in my bank account and a surge of unpaid bills. The task felt overwhelming. In September, my jaw began to hurt.

It went unnoticed. I was, of course, too busy getting my life back. In October, it started to feel sharp in the back of my mouth. I’d gone to my dentist back home, and she took a look and asked, “Are you stressed?” I almost laughed at the question. What an understatement it was.

Of course, living and working in two states, getting divorced, and rebuilding from the ground up had to be done. But I thought, why be stressed about it? She sent me home with a bite guard, told me I was grinding in my sleep. I brushed it off.

In December, it started to hurt when things were too hot or too cold. The pain would radiate down my neck. And just a few weeks ago, the exposed nerve pain had become so unbearable that I went to the emergency room for a nerve block just to get through work.

I’ve been told I make it look easy. That I’m stoic, strong, and fearless. I guess the body does keep the score. My conscious mind is powerful; it gets me through everything, but deep in the lobes of my brain is the fear, self-doubt, and hopelessness.

Now that I’m on the other side of debt, a homeowner again, reconnected with my children, and am in love, I’ll look back at the sacrifices I made to get here, where I get to wake up slowly, have my coffee, and feed my chickens. And when I have the fractured tooth removed, I’ll keep it as a reminder about sacrifice.