What Invisalign taught me about how to thwart the worst critic in my life
The author at the mid-point (she says optimistically) of her Invisalign treatment
I’m doing Invisalign right now. If you don’t know what that is, congratulations on your beautiful smile, and please enjoy existing in a world where dental alignment is a foreign concept. For the rest of us, Invisalign are invisible braces that attempt to herd your teeth back into formation, like tiny dental shepherds.
I’ve been putting this off for years. It took me a while to work up the gumption to invest the time, inevitable pain, and money to make it happen.
As I pondered this decision and now that I’m in the thick of it, I’ve discovered that people’s reactions can throw me off. “Your teeth aren’t that crooked,” or “Your teeth are charming,” they say, kindly, but through Colgate-commercial-worthy smiles.
Their sentiments are offered as gestures of support. But, during the pain and awkwardness of the early weeks of treatment (Invisalign’s tagline should really be “Drooling and eating mush: it’s not just for babies anymore.”), these comments felt like deterrents. Was I overanalyzing my smile? Would this even work? Is it possible that teeth, like eccentric relatives, are better left unchanged?
In these moments of doubt, I retreated to the safety of logic. “My teeth will be easier to clean,” I told people, as if I’d just discovered a revolutionary way to spend more time flossing. Which is technically true (I now do a lot of flossing), but let’s not kid ourselves. This isn’t about achieving flossing nirvana. I’m doing this because I want straight teeth. That’s it. That’s the real reason.
I’m about 3 months into the process, and a funny thing happened recently. I was posing for a photo and I realized: I’m smiling bigger these days. It’s actually… working?!
I’m not here to tell you to straighten your teeth. I genuinely don’t care what you do dentally. But I realized, I care what I do. And as soon as I stopped looking for reasons it wasn’t going to work, it got easier. But mostly, this: I noticed that how I responded to people’s opinions was a good litmus test of how much I believed it would work - and of how much I believed in myself.
This is a relatively minor life change, but this analogy is apt for the biggies too. I work with clients who are grappling with some serious decisions—whether it’s about their career, how they live, or the relationships they’re building. Often, they’re hearing suggestions from people around them intimating that perhaps they don’t need to change: “That sounds awfully risky.” “Have you considered staying exactly where you are?” “What about something less drastic?”
My point: Transformation is an immensely personal process. It takes bravery to begin and bravery to continue. From the outside, it doesn’t always make sense. That’s okay. The only person it really has to make sense to is you. But therein lies the challenge: holding firm to your own conviction, in the face of inevitable uncertainty. Are you latching onto sentiments and stories that stoke your uncertainty? Or are you looking for confirmation that your brave new path is the right one for you?
As I look back at those opinions that had me wavering, I realized this: They were actually pretty innocuous statements. It was me who gave them meaning, making them into amplifiers of the doubts floating rent free in my own head. And if I could give the messages around me meaning, why not make that meaning serve my hopes, not my fears?
The moment I stopped focusing on the pain and started focusing on my progress, things began to shift. For my teeth and for my other current great growth path: my startup. In fact, a fellow founder friend and I used to start our weekly check-ins by talking about wins, and sometimes I’d lean too heavily on the idea that “a hard-won lesson is a win,” which didn’t do much for my mental state. But when we switched to talking about momentum instead, everything became lighter. Suddenly, it wasn’t about reaching the finish line—it was about noticing that we were still in the race—and looking back and seeing how far we’d come.
If you feel the urge to make a change, no matter how small, do it. Take that first step, knowing that the path ahead might look a little weird at first. (Side note: did I mention I was allergic to the first set of aligners? I spent a week in bed, convinced I’d made a huge mistake. But lucky me, how many of life’s changes come with a free hypoallergenic upgrade?)
Because if you can make positive meaning out of what could be metastasizing doubts, seemingly all of the sudden, you’ll wake up and notice you’re smiling brighter. And then this funny thing will happen: it will all start to look inevitable. Of course you’re here now, with your straight teeth, figuring out the next thing you want to do in life (I’m thinking modeling, right? ;). But if you pause and look back, you may just remember that there was a long, long while when it didn’t feel inevitable at all. Because it wasn’t.
The reality is, for my teeth (allow me a moment of drama here), what made it inevitable was me, inching forward one day at a time, latching onto the stories that supported my success rather than those that fueled my doubts. And for my bigger ambitions, like my startup (and your ambitions, whatever they may be), the same will hold true. What will make them happen is holding a vision and clinging to the stories that support the inevitability of success.
Can I do this Jedi mind trick every day? I wish. Maybe one day I’ll unlock that level of Yoda wizardry. For now, I'll settle for “whenever I manage to remember I have the force.”
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go practice my new straight smile. Modeling contracts won’t sign themselves.