Unclench Your Jaw
I became aware of it, first, on a visit to the dentist. She finished the check up (nothing to be remedied, thoroughly miraculous after two years of covid-enforced unavailability then a year of inertia-based non-attendance) and asked if I was perhaps under some stress. I replied that I could possibly stand a little less of it in my life, but — why? Turns out that my jaw muscles were so developed as to be almost rigid. She got me to try tensing and relaxing with my fingers on my jawline and gadzooks if it wasn’t almost impossible to relax the muscle.
Over the following days, I made a conscious effort a few times a day to try to untense my jaw. It felt strange at first: my mouth hung slack, my tongue loose in my mouth, my teeth sitting unfamiliarly some distance apart. How does one’s face feel when it is at rest? I no longer knew.
Unclench your jaw.
Lower your shoulders.
Breathe.
I don’t think I’m the only one who needs reminded to do it. Occasionally I’ll post the words above, or a form of them, on social media, and the responses range from “ouch” to “can you just follow me around and remind me every 30 minutes or so?” Perhaps an app would help us all, pinging on a regular basis and encouraging us to unpretzel. Then again, perhaps not; I’d likely ignore it as much as I do the apple watch reminder to stand at ten minutes to every hour.
Unclench your jaw.
Lower your shoulders.
BREATHE.
Why do we have such tendency to tense? I mean, apart from ongoing pandemics, climate change, cost of living crises, unstable housing markets, political ineptitude, and escalating international tensions, of course. Other than that. There’s a lot of pressure on many of us. The eternal juggle of keeping a home, maintaining a career, tending to relationships with those we love, and trying to eat the odd vegetable takes a whole lot of time and brain space. All this and there’s still months until the second half of this series of Outlander? Inhumane, honestly.
Sunset near Mont St Michel, France. Photo property of author
I was incredibly aware of it when my children were small. When I was sleep deprived, touched out, and they once again refused the food we put down, woke for the third time in an hour, or repeatedly rammed my ankle with that toy, gritting my teeth with an internal scream felt like the safest way to deal. And yet over time, when once again we’d sleep the night through, food generally eaten, and the toys became smaller, less plastic and with reduced ramraid potential, my jaw stayed locked. Did it just become habit? Or were those stressors simply replaced with others?
Unclench your jaw.
Lower your shoulders.
Breathe.
I gain some relief every time I make a conscious effort to move my body. Three minutes in a Pilates class with the brilliant Sarah and I can feel my crumpled spine lengthen. My neck uncurves and my lungs inflate just that little bit further. It takes so little effort, really, and yet so hard to prioritise, because there’s nothing depending on me doing it. Nothing, except for my health and wellbeing.
I’m fortunate, for now. We have health and happiness and funds enough to live comfortably (at least until the mortgage fixed rate is up). I find it easier than I used to, to untense. And yet I still find my default is rigidity, of mandible if nowhere else. Each time I realise, I let myself breathe in and loosen. At least I realise now. Perhaps next time I go to the dentist, she’ll congratulate me on my chilled out and relaxed nature.
Unclench your jaw.
Lower your shoulders.
Breathe.
Repeat.
© Fiona McDerment, 2023. All rights reserved.
Article originally published via Medium - visit my profile here