When I was three years old or so, my head began shaking uncontrollably. We were on a cruise and my parents took one look at me in my stroller and freaked out. I couldn’t stop shaking. Head swinging back and forth, I knew from that day forward there was something wrong with me. No idea what it was.
For the next ten years, I was taken from neurologist to psychiatrist in search of a cure. I wasn’t sure what was going on, all I knew is I was told not to eat this, not drink that, to take these pills, and so forth. But nothing ever worked. My head twitched and then my shoulders, eventually the twitches got so bad I never wanted to go see any of my friends for fear they would ask what was wrong.
I remember going over to Michael’s house when I was eight or so. I remember we were playing Sonic the Hedgehog on Sega Genesis and whenever I would notice him looking away, I would engorge myself in whichever tic was nagging at me and try to get it out of my system before he looked back. But one day he looked back too quickly before I had gotten it outa my system and asked:
“Why do you do that? With your head?”
“Oh, I have this tag on the back of my shirt. It’s just itching me.”
But it was a wash. From that day forward I stopped going over to Michael’s house because I knew I couldn’t hide this crazy head twitch I had. The tics seem to surge through my body like a wave crashing through my soul. I couldn’t stop it. It was horrible.
I knew I was not normal. I was a freak. Because I thought I was a freak, I acted like one all throughout elementary school. I was too scared to make friends for fear they would find out what was wrong with me, whatever that may be. Until fifth grade, I was all alone and never committed seriously to any friendships.
In fifth grade, the tics began to subside and I made two friends: Kevin and Wayne. They gave me hope.
For the first time, I saw a normal life may be possible. I clung to our friendship with all my might, but unfortunately, they moved away at the end of fifth grade and I started middle school alone, again. This time, I was terrified in a way I’d never known before.
Terrified at the older kids, the popular kids, everything and everyone. When I was dubbed a loser on day one, there was no returning–the jig was up, and again I began to feel that turmoil I felt in Michael’s parent’s basement when I was eight.
I had to hide.
But I couldn’t hide. I was beaten up and publicly humiliated by the rest of the grade and my life became not worth it.
Should I kill myself?
Maybe.
Then one day something happened. In eighth grade, the girls began to find me attractive, and I was asked out by the second-to-most popular girl in the school. Obviously, I said yes. This was my ticket out. The tics were pretty much gone (I could do them in private by then) and so the only lingering effect whatever neurological disorder I had been cursed with had left me was zero self-worth, but all that changed when I saw the girls coming my way.
Buttttt….. It wasn’t the solution. In fact, it made everything ten times worse. When that popular girl finally saw me for who I truly was and broke up with me, again the turmoil of what life used to be like crept back in. I’ll be damned if I go back to that life. What can I do to keep the spotlight off the fact that I am inherently different?
I know. I’ll cause mass destruction. I’ll rob houses. I’ll steal from all the bullies who picked on me. I’ll use drugs. I’ll drink my sorrow away. And I’ll form my own crew of misfits too powerful to decline.
And so I set out to take revenge on life… and that revenge eventually got me suspended from school, kicked out of my parents’ house, kicked out of two residential rehabs, sent to juvie in Georgia for two years, a wilderness program in Utah for six weeks, and eventually, I ended up homeless by age sixteen, sleeping with crack addicts, prostitutes, and other desperate characters.
Today I know it was Tourette Syndrome, a disorder I didn’t even know how to spell until I got sober at 27. The first time I was able to even put it on paper, that I had the disorder, I spelled it Turetts. I had no idea how to even spell the one thing that had dictated my entire life. As the twitches subsided a bit, I did my best to forget about it. Once I told my therapist I had Tourette and he asked me if I was sure.
Am I sure?
Uhh.. Yeah.
But there was no way to prove it, and so I kept it a secret from every single person, even family, for the rest of my life. Until I got sober and broke down to my only friend at the time that I had no idea how to keep my tics at bay without alcohol.
I cried in the car on Ventura Blvd in Los Angeles, as vulnerable as I had ever been, asking her for help, begging her not to leave me as a friend. It was at that moment I realized… she didn’t care.
That’s what you thought I would judge you on? Are you serious? she said.
She thought I was going to tell her I was dying of cancer, but no. I had to confess: I have Tourettes. She couldn’t believe that was all it was. And here I had been keeping it in a safe from all the people who loved me, finding ways to shield myself whenever they came out and ducking any symptoms by drugging myself up and running away to be alone.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…
Perhaps if I would’ve known a bit more about Tourettes when I was a kid, or if I was talked to about it by adults. If I had met other kids like me. If I had known everything would be okay. Maybe I woulda built up the courage to talk about it. To be fair, nobody knew much about it at that time (they still don’t). What made it a million times harder is Tourettes is the butt of so many comedians’ jokes. There’s always someone making fun of it. And you know what? Had I not grown to simply not give a fuck due to all the insane events of my life, I may never have arrived at where I am today. It took all that public humiliation to get me to a point where I could withstand it.
There’s an easier way though… talk about it. Nothing got better till I broke my silence. Anybody who has any sort of disorder like the one I have who can relate and has no idea how to cope with it, talk about it.
It’s the only way.