July 1^st, 2013.

I knew it was going to be a big day that would dramatically change the rest of my life. But looking back now, at the time I could barely even grasp what that day would mean years down the road and the significant effect it would have on my life.

For thirteen years, we were working towards having a jaw surgery that would fix my incorrect bite. Since I was 6 years old, I went to orthodontic appointments, had head gears, pallet expanders, four different sets of braces, various retainers, power chains, numerous spacers (or as I like to refer to them as “the devil’s favorite torture device”), countless rubber bands, many teeth pulled, and other orthodontic-related things (with names I have no idea how to even begin to spell or look up on Google).

When I was 12 years old, my upper jaw stopped growing while my lower jaw continued at an accelerating rate. As you can imagine, that’s slightly problematic when you haven’t even gone through puberty or your junior high/high school growth spurt but your upper jaw has decided, “Naw, I think I’m good. I’ll just stay here, thanks!” By senior year of high school, only two of my teeth touched; biting and eating was a difficult task. Something like biting a carrot or eating corn on the cob became simply impossible.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. This person is just being dramatic... if only that were the case. So here’s an exercise for you non-believers:

1) Try to extend your lower jaw out as far as possible.

2) Extend your lower jaw to the point where you feel only your back molars touch. Now, for many people this might be physically impossible to do and somewhat painful to even try. Please stop if you’re in pain!

3) Get a carrot and try to bite off the tip of the vegetable using only your front teeth. Better yet, boil some corn on the cob, drench in butter, and then try to eat it off the cob. Somewhat difficult, yes?

4) Was that easy for you? Yes? Well, congratulations. You get to advance to the expert level! Now, try talking for long periods of time without tripping over your words. Also, try singing in a choir five times a week. WARNING: Saliva will collect in your lower jaw that has now become a pocket for storing spit.

5) If you’re still in the running…wow, you are skilled! Now, perform in plays and musicals and try to make your newly-formed lisp unnoticeable to the hundreds of people in the audience. Also, don’t forget! You have college theater auditions and interviews coming up, so make sure you’re prepared to act like your mouth is totally fine!

6) Here’s your final task, you’ve been given the honor of speaking at your high school graduation in front of your senior class of about 330 graduates and over 3,000 people in the audience.

7) Wow you’ve done it! You’ve reached the level of messed up jaw Jared Campbell (this is not something to celebrate).

The surgery is called a maxillary advancement and mandibular setback. Basically, surgeons removed part of my lower jaw (by scrapping and cutting the bone) and brought it backward and then broke my upper jaw and moved it forward. You might be thinking, “Oh gosh! That must have been very painful.” Luckily, they had me on such strong medication that I didn’t feel a thing besides the catheter (another one of the devil’s favorite torture devices). Although I was never in pain even during the recovery process, you can imagine how bad the swelling was. But, no need to imagine -- there’s photographic evidence:

I was in the hospital for a little less than 24 hours and had my mouth wired shut for five weeks. One of the hardest parts about the post-surgery experience was that I still had to wait over a month for the swelling to completely go down so that I could see what the new me would look like. I lost ten pounds in the first week and my diet consisted of smoothies, shakes, pudding, juice, and blended soups. I was irritable, grouchy, and hungry. This is my public apology to everyone I saw within that five-week time period. I was so agitated and starving. I craved for the ability to bite something.

Finally, the day came where I was getting unwired. The doctor had warned me that some people pass out when they open their mouth again because it’s such a strange feeling. After he cut the last wire I slowly opened my mouth and became dizzy as I felt what it was like to have my mouth corrected for the first time in my life. I had never felt what it was like to have my lower jaw behind my upper jaw, so experiencing this sensation was mind blowing.

My sister had a similar jaw surgery a couple years before me, so I ultimately knew what I was getting myself into. However, what I didn’t know was the psychological effects that a surgery like this would have on me. Here I was, looking in the mirror at someone I didn’t recognize. I looked unfamiliar. I just saw a stranger. My facial structure seemed to be drastically altered. I didn’t feel like me. I somehow missed the excessive under bite that had been a part of my physical appearance.

I moved to college a week after getting unwired and I was meeting new people that would only ever know the me with a fixed jaw, while people I had grown up with my entire life were accustomed to the old me. Friends and family had always said college would be the best years of your life, where you would meet your life-long best friends, learn so much about yourself, and grow as an individual. As I found myself in college, I thought, “How can I possibly become this ‘new person’ when I don’t even know this new version of myself I see staring back at me in the mirror?”

My perception of myself had to change and I had to become comfortable in this newfound skin. It was a long process that did not happen over night. The experience was a blessing in disguise as I got the opportunity to reinvent myself. I gained more confidence and my insecurities that I once had towards my mouth disappeared as I became more comfortable in what felt like a new body.

Returning home after my first year of college, I would see friends or acquaintances from high school that would look at me for a couple seconds before saying in an uncertain tone, “Jared…?” People I had known my whole life were not recognizing me in public. It was a bizarre experience that I still encounter today.

Almost three years later I look at pre-surgery pictures and I think, “Who is that person?”