Can one buy the good life?

My apologies to anyone forced to re-live their dental traumas as a result of my last post. As someone who has not had employer-provided dental coverage in twenty years, I save a lot of money by visiting my dentist and hygienist quarterly. My mouth has never felt better and it is one of the best investments one can make toward keeping natural teeth in old age.

The question in the title for this post is not rhetorical. Defining the "good life" is different for each of us. Yet, when asked, many of us describe a very monied life of luxury. I think that money only takes one so far...

What I want is not to jet off to exotic destinations, though there is nothing wrong with travel or living abroad. Having done both, the security and contentment that stems from being happy where I find myself at this day and time seems far more important. After all, I'm the one who gains or suffers from financial or other life decisions. Being a wealthy malcontent only means that one can more easily hide from problems or priorities, not that they will magically vanish in a sea of green.

Understanding one's motives for spending or saving is only part of a multi-layered question, much like looking at one's consumer debt and then realizing that the consumerist trappings--clothing, furniture, jewelry, electronics, gadgets and all of the other things we tell ourselves we need--can indeed trap us. Revolving interest, compounding and constant spending all lead to stress, insecurity and problems living. There is no enjoyment in such a scenario and yet it is seductive, judging by rising levels of consumer debt.

Some of us, if we are fortunate, eventually come to the realization that we either need more money to support how we are choosing to live, and go after whatever opportunities exist for attaining it, or make different choices. An increasing number of us face extremely limiting choices due to age, lack of education or other factors related to poverty.  The "good life" and the "hard work" we've been taught to aspire to that is supposed to save us from lives of debt often no longer provide as much as they once did, leaving many of us defeated or confused.

How many of you know someone who works three jobs and still cannot afford health insurance? How many of you have ever spoken to a young person who cannot afford the dentist or an eye exam even when working full time? How many of you have seen an elderly neighbor reduce medication so that food can be purchased or pay Meals on Wheels to receive one hot meal per day and attempt to live on Insure for the remainder?

I've seen all of these and more where I live, and the situation isn't much better elsewhere from what I've been told by friends who live in various communities. While the answer to the original question starts with each of us as individuals, it does not end there if the definition of a "good life" involves security as in having a roof over one's head, reasonable rents, affordable food and medicine and the contentment that comes with feeling safe.

There is a distinct difference between miserliness and frugality. The former promises us nothing except stress while the latter can and often does provide a path to freedom from debt and the worry that arises from it. Planning and management are both important if one is to re-pay or avoid debt. Another closely related caveat, and one with which a lot of us struggle: the need to own more or the feeling that what we have or who we are may never be enough.

Just how one banishes such beliefs is at the core of living well. Ending the bombardment of advertising that tells us what we want, how we should look and feel and offers constant comparison to others, is one thing all of us can do. Choosing who and what we listen to is another. Limiting time on social media can also help in this regard. A valuable last step is to finally realize and value who we are beyond the roles prescribed for us or those we seek  out in an effort to earn or impress. This allows what we truly value and who we are to come to the fore. That is how best to direct the remaining choices in our lives.

Easy? Not...But worth every ounce of sweat, misgiving or misstep involved in the process.

Gleaming Choppers...

I don't know about you, but as a kid, I dreaded the dentist almost as much as the doctor.
Those gleaming instruments, the big light that always seemed to be in my eyes and the sense of confinement all added to the worry and terror over possible pain and foul tasting medicines or anesthetics.

There were no child-friendly waiting rooms full of toys, murals or books, and parents could be seen dragging their unwilling offspring into the waiting area and then shoving them toward the chair in the dental suite, all the while re-assuring them that they would be fine.

The first time I was permitted to see a dentist alone, I was ten, and all of my worst fears came to fruition when after confessing my dislike of anesthetic shots, the dentist proceeded to drill into a small cavity. ignoring my screams. I emerged in tears, one side of my face swollen, and marched into the waiting area in search of my mother. She took one look at me and demanded an explanation. After my recounting, she said, "Well, if you did not want the shot, you should have expected this."

Placing an ice pack on my face once home, she then relayed the information I had provided to her husband. Stepfather was equally tough but apparently decided to have a word with the Army dental clinic. Though I went twice more, that particular dentist was nowhere in sight.

That experience stayed with me, as did her response to my discomfort. It took an auto accident and chipped teeth to deliver me into the hands of my present dental office. I've been a client there for over twenty years and have never had a bad experience. My dentist, in practice for over forty years, has no doubt, seen the consequences of bad dentistry and no dentistry due to previous trauma. Though I've never discussed this incident with him directly, his staff, including my hygienist, have re-affirmed their commitment to trauma-free dentistry for anyone who sees them, child or adult. While I still dislike injections and needles, on the rare occasion I've required them, they have been dispatched with minimal stress and almost no pain. I go every three months and my mouth and teeth have never felt better.

It is nice to know that the Dark Ages of dentistry have been put to rest, at least by most of those with whom I associate. My only fear of the dentist is now his retirement.

Have any of you had similar experiences?