"...Is sometimes what you need"

I don't cry often.  Almost never, in fact.  It's interesting when you think about how little adults cry.  I mean, we've all cried in our lives.  As babies, of course.  Then up through adolescence.  After puberty, a bit less.  A touch here and there in high school.  Maybe some in college.  Then, we become adults.  We stop crying.  Perhaps this is not the same story for most women.  I don't know.  Regardless adult women cry less than little girls do.  That has to be true.
I am sitting here trying to think of all the times I have cried in the last ten years.  Not too many times.  I cried after my grandmother died; not right away I might add.  It took me a few days.  I cried when my dog died.  I sobbed, to be honest.  I teared up during a recent fight my fiancee and I got into.
I probably cried five or six other times in the last decade.  I have my moments when depression overwhelms me.  I usually don't let it get to the point of tears but it can go there.
The night I told my fiancee about my TS, I cried in bed.
I also cried the next night when we were talking about my not wanting her to see my tics.  I felt so alone and not alone at the same time.  I wanted to curl up into a ball and just cry by myself.  But she didn't let that happen and I am glad for that.  I sobbed in her arms.  I couldn't control it.  I felt like I wanted to run and hide on an island of despair as I had so many times before.  But I couldn't.  I couldn't hide because she knows of my secret.  There was nowhere to hide.
This was a good feeling.  It is a good feeling to know that when I run away, looking for a place to hide someone is right behind me, making sure I am OK.  She gives me space, which I need.  But I know she is hanging back with worry in her heart.
The morning after I told her about this awful pain I've been hiding in my head for all these years, I caught her crying.  It is not an uncommon sight to see my fiancee cry.  Yet, this was different.  I opened the bathroom door to see her in tears.  I asked her what was wrong.  She said, "I hurt."
I thought she meant physically.  I thought maybe she had a bad headache or cramps or something.  She said, "I hurt in my heart."
She preceded to tell me how much it hurt her to not know about my pain and to not be able to help me.  The thing is she has helped me immensely over our courtship.  Just her being in my life makes it easier to deal with the demon.  And maybe now that she is aware of my pain, it will be even easier.  That remains to be seen.
I wish I could cry that easily, sometimes.  But I cannot.  It is not machismo that prevents the tears.  Maybe it is the strength I have built for myself over the years that keeps them at bay.  Whatever the reason...I seldom cry.  But I do know how good it can feel.

"...a warm safe place, where as a child I'd hide."

I am taking a Spanish class.  I haven't been in a classroom setting in 12 years.  I have class once a week for three hours.  I have been wanting to take a Spanish class for a while.  It finally worked out with my schedule so I jumped on it.  It's exciting.  It's a very different feeling taking a class at my age than it was when I went to college.  Even the classes I really liked back then didn't ever get me excited about attending them.  But I am excited to go to class, now.  That being said, I find myself in an uncomfortable situation.
I am back in school.  I sit at a desk in a room full of other people.  It has been a long time since I had to deal with TS in that setting.  It brings back memories.  The good 'ol days when I fought to suppress tics for hours at a time.  It brings back memories of taunting and bullying.  Classrooms are tough, even for an expert tic suppressor like myself.
The urge to belt out a big, fat vocal tic is incredible.  It still makes its way out there but in a much quieter fashion than it would like to have been heard.  I don't care as much as I used to about being noticed.  And in a room full of adults, most of them my age or thereabout, they probably don't give a shit what I am up to.  I am, however, aware of the eyes that may or may not be on me.  I can feel them looking, watching, observing.  So, no matter how comfortable I may be I still fear being caught.  I am always scared of "them" seeing me.
And as long as "they" are out there watching, I'll be hiding.  

"Even if things end up a bit too heavy..."

I find myself living within a new set of rules.  I catch myself hiding my tics when I know I don't need to.  And once caught I laugh at myself and let the tics fly (to an extent).  The vocal tics are a bit louder, now.  Before the confession, I would always be conscious of where she was in the house.  Is she in the next room?  How loud can I be right now?  Is she going to walk in on me while I am having an apparent conversation with the wall?
But things are different, now.  Although I don't want her to see any of it, there is no legitimate reason to hide it.  She already knows.  So, in baby steps I am letting go a bit.
The funny thing is I find I am more comfortable with my TS.  Everywhere.  Not just in the house.  I am less afraid to let strangers see it than I used to be.  Maybe it's because my fiancee knows about it and that is way more important than any stranger's observations.  I am not saying it is a ticcing free-for-all out there in the world but I have unconsciously let go of the reigns a tiny bit.  It is a new realm for me.  I am existing in a new frame of mind that will only evolve into something new.  We shall just have to wait and see where it takes us.  All of us.  I feel naive and late to the party.  My reluctance to "step out" for so long has put me in a box.  I was a child.  I shall rise above that, now.  I don't know how quickly or to where exactly I am rising but something new is happening.
I just hope I don't float away.

Guest Post: Tic's fiancee.

So, its been four and a half hours since I heard the news.  Since then, I've read all the blog posts and had a bit of an emotional break down because I tried to write a response comment to all of what I read.  As soon as I hit the button to publish, all was lost due to an error.  So, I will make an attempt to recapture all of what I had written there.

As I was listening to this confession (about 4 and 1/2 years overdue), I felt myself sinking into myself, looking out two little windows at him...  a little dizzy... "Am I really sitting here on this couch?"
What does this mean? What is this alternate identity I was unaware of? I said: "Are you sure you have it?" "Who told you that?" In a response to some of the comment posts: Either he is really THAT good at hiding it, or I am a total moron.  But who really does look at the one they love and think "Why does he do that?... Maybe I should google it."  Later I asked him if he googles any of the things that I do.

I know that he makes noises- Everyone does some little thing that comforts them....
I know that he smells books- I really think it's adorable. Hell, I've even done it cause he makes it look so enjoyable. I think I kind of like the smell of books, too. I think its cute; the way he thinks I'm cute when I lick jars, spoons, lids and any other surface with food dripping down it (why waste a perfectly good paper towel?).  I know that he clicks the mouse incessantly sometimes- I just honestly thought he was entertaining himself, the way he does when he repeats things he hears on the radio and tv.
I honestly don't mind any of it. Nor did I think it any more strange than some of the things other people do.

In conversation with a friend during my recent trip out of town, I was asked if I felt there was anything missing from my life. I realized, as I said it out-loud, that I DO have everything I need. That is because of the man I love. He works very hard to pay the bills (when I can't), he does the dishes every night (when I make a mess in the kitchen), he makes breakfast for me most mornings (when I am too lazy to get up earlier), and he pretty much sees to it that my life is easy. Who could ask for more? Hopefully, that it is not because of his tics that he feels he has to do these things.

No one ever wants to find out that the person they love is tormented daily by something that they cannot control.  The biggest problem I have with his TS is that I cannot carry any part of this burden that he bears... that I can't really do anything to stop it.
He apologized after telling me. I am the one who is sorry. Sorry for not being aware. Sorry that I thought nothing of it when he told me something "bothered" him. It is much easier to break my stupid little habits than for him to fight these overbearing urges. This is a new step into our life together.

I really am in shock a little...
There really is so much I don't know.
I blame it on the "love goggles" I've been wearing ever since the first weekend I spent with him. They have never come off since, and something like this has no chance of changing that. I have a wonderful man, who makes me happy. I only wish that someday I can make his life a little easier.
I really don't know if I believe it still. Guess I need time to process.
Thanks to everyone for all the support and kind words over the years. I wish I could have helped him too.
I love you, Tic.

Soon to be, Mrs. Tic

"Onward and upward."

I made a decision. I am going to tell my fiancee all about my TS. I actually made this decision quite a while ago. The opportune time has just not presented itself. She works days and I work nights. When we see each other one of us is usually too tired for that sort of a conversation. We haven't shared a day off together in a while. She is out of town and has been for almost three weeks. She will return on Sunday. And then we have a house guest coming into town for a few weeks on Monday night. I am not sure if it is a good idea to tell here before he gets here. Maybe it is too much to throw on her and then not have time to discuss it further considering we will be entertaining.

I figure I will tell her I have TS, explain what that really means and then let her read my blog. Honestly, I probably convey my struggle better in this blog than I could in a conversation.

I have reservations about telling her but then I realize it is silly to keep hiding it. We are getting married in a year. We bought a house together. We plan on spending the rest of this life with one another. I might as well let her in.

So, that's it. I have resigned myself to this decision. In a few days our relationship will be different. She will know more about me and I will change the way I act around her. She will be watching me with a different set of eyes. Everything will be different. Every time I make a noise she will wonder if that is the TS or not. Every time I tic I will wonder if she caught it. I can finally explain to her why I repeat the shit I hear on the radio or t.v.

What scares me is I am not sure how comfortable I can be around her with my TS. I know I will still hide it. It is not about her not knowing about it anymore. It is about me not wanting her to see my disease. I don't want to see it. I can't imagine she would want to see it, either.

Oh, well. Let's see how this goes...

Bus stopping

I was waiting for the bus. I had a "green" shopping bag filled with a bottle of vodka, bottle of coke and dog food. I placed it in the snow bank. As I waited for the bus I paced and strayed from the bag. But there was an undeniable connection to the bag. I then thought about someone in a similar situation who might have seen their approaching bus, boarded and shipped off. Easily this person could have left their bag of alcohol and dog food behind. But not me. I feel a connection. It's almost as if a string is tied to my arm and also to the bag. We are connected. There is no way I could see the bus approaching and board without an irresistible urge to drag my bag along. And if I did board said bus without my bag I would go crazy. I mean, I imagine myself getting on the bus; sitting down, watching the doors close and speeding off. I imagine myself very quickly decomposing. I don't know what would happen. I might lose it. I NEED that bag. I cannot leave it and if I did I would lose my shit. The need to have it with me and the fact that it cannot be would fuck me up. And to what extent that would happen I do not know because I would never let that happen. A touretter would not watch the bag disappear. It would never happen. That bag is mentally connected to me in a way that no "normal" can understand.

From whence we came...

It seems I am at the tail end of a rough patch.  The tics are calming down.  They were very bad a couple of weeks ago.  I didn't even notice that they got better but here we are.  So, I'll enjoy this period of relative calm.  And of course I will be back where I was once again, in the future.  That's just the way it works.  I'm 32 years old.  I think I've got this thing down, by now.

When we think of diseases, sicknesses, syndromes; often there is an end to them.  People get better.  People beat cancer.  People get over the flu.  I was watching this HBO series on Alzheimer's.  There was an interview with a child of about ten years old.  He said something like: "My grandfather will have Alzheimer's until...until...he'll always have it."  This kid knows what Alzheimer's is.  He knows it will never go away but for a moment we could see him still grasping onto the fantasy that it will.

I totally relate to that glitch in acknowledgement of the reality of disease with my TS.  I often experience similar moments in which I almost forget that TS is here to stay.  For a second or two I look forward to its end.  And then of course I snap out of it and view the situation from an adult point of view.  There are moments of doubt, disbelief and hope.  It's amazing that I can still feel this way, if for only a moment, this late in the game.

TS does go away.  It will leave me with my last breath.  I will have Tourette Syndrome for as long as I am alive.  Death is the only relief.  And what a bitter reality that is.  For it will take death, where cognition and lucidity are no longer extant, to rid me of the suffering I feel in life.  It is in death (the very absence of everything we need to experience pain) when the suffering will finally take a bow.

Click, click, click boom!

The mouse. Right and left click.

I cannot just click the left. I cannot just click the right. I Have to do both over and over... Over and over. Click right, click left. NO!

It's no joke!

I'm on the goddamn computer all the fucking time and I have my hand on that mouse...

You know what I am talking about. That mouse...

Hand on it.

Left button. Right button. I am just Waiting for a goddamn reason to click! A fuckin click! Goddamn right to fuckin left! Ohhhh, and it doesn't fuckin matter cause it's always left....

and the the floodgate's open.

I click back and forth. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right...... etc.... and it goes on. Have to grab that goddamn mouse and go on and on and on and on...

I cannot control it. I can't even view a page.

I have to cick!

I have to go lkeft, right, left, roght, left, rigfht, etc...

I have to!

"From fossil to fossil, Dust to dust, I'll see you all in the earthy crust."

My grandmother died today.  I feel the same as I did yesterday.  I mean it wasn't a surprise. Even so...

I live 2,000 miles away.  I visited a couple of weeks ago.  I saw her right before she died,  I knew when I left that it was the last time I would ever see her.  

My girlfriend left at 9 AM for Cali this morning.  After she left I logged onto my computer and my sister in law sent me an I.M.  She said : "Are you OK?  Are you coming in?"  I knew right then that my grandmother was dead.   I immediately called my mother and it was confirmed.  

So, here I am alone with this.  I am actually calm.  My TS has been at its worst lately.  But not now.  I am calm.  No sounds and no one to here them, regardless.  Apparently, the passing of a life does not stress me out.  It does the opposite.  I have been very stressed lately.  I lost my job and am not seeing a new one on the horizon. Yet...Grandma dies and I am more calm than I have been.  Maybe I am relieved.  I went to NY to visit .  I had a week off from work and I knew she was in bad shape so I visited.  The day I saw her in her apartment in Queens freaked me out.  She looked really bad.  The last time I saw her a few months before she was walking and talking and joking.

I stood outside her apartment building and her nurse pulled up with grandma in a wheelchair, head down and hair gray.  I had no idea she looked so bad.

The next day as I was driving in to Queens to see her, I called and the nurse told me she just called an ambulance.  The next three visits were in the hospital.  I said goodbye and left.

I am alone in my house.  I am not as sad as one would think.  I don't know how to be.  My tics were so bad this week.  I mean, to the point where I didn't give a fuck who heard them.  I was ticcing it up.  

My girlfriend and I had a friend over last week.  We were sitting on the couch, watching T.V. and said friend said to me: "Are you aware of the sounds you're making?"

My heart sank.

Fuck!  I thought I was being quiet.  Hell, I was trying hard to be so. OK.  So, she heard me.  Big deal.  I said, "Of course."  That drives me nuts.  I mean, if someone notices your tics; fine.  But to insinuate that you are unaware of the noises your are making for all to hear, including yourself, is insulting!  Yes! I know I am making noises.  Do you not think I can hear them, too?  I am closer to them than you are!

Gladly, it ended there.  I don't mean the vocal tics.  I mean the comments on them from the gallery.  

And as the week went on, the vocals got worse.  I was just letting them fly around my girlfriend. More so than ever before.  She says nothing, though.  She knows I am doing something.  I am not sure she knows what.  Maybe I should just tell her.  She should know.

And so that was last week.  I fly to NY tomorrow and the funeral is the next day.  I can almost guarantee my tics will be on full display.  We'll see.

Nothing a little Listerine can't cure.

I went to the dentist a few months ago.  The hygienist was cleaning my teeth and asked me if I knew that I grinded my teeth.  I told her, "I do now."  This was news to me.

When the dentist came out of his hole to do his exam, he said the same thing.  I told him I was unaware of this new discovery his team has stumbled upon.  Dr. Toothenberg said, "You may be doing it while you're sleeping."  Then as he glanced at my arms hanging out of my tank top he added, "You may be doing it when you're lifting weights and not realizing it."  These were both very good theories.  But I knew right away what the true cause was and is.

I don't grind my teeth in the conventional headgear requiring sense of the term.  I have a tic that involves my teeth.  Actually it's not just one tic.  It's a whole gang of them.  

So, when I got home from the dental fiasco I took a long look in the mirror.  It's amazing I hadn't noticed this before.   The dentist said I had done considerable damage to my teeth.  He told me I have already worn away quite a bit of the tooth and its enamel.  He suggested I be aware of the grinding and put an end to it.  Easier said than done, doc.   And the mirror that cannot lie clearly pointed out that my front teeth are a mess.  At a glance, they look fine but upon closeup, mirror-type  inspection it's all right there to see.

Basically years and years of tooth tics are ruining my teeth.  I go through phases, of course. Sometimes I don't bother with my teeth at all.  And sometimes I chop away at them.  Needless to say after that visit to the dentist chair the demon within decided it best that we choose a nice selection of teeth grinding tics to concentrate on for the next few days.  Man, I went at these teeth hard, too.  

I even invented a few new tics just for fun.  I attacked my teeth so badly in the next few days that I had trouble opening my mouth to talk or eat.  My jaw ached so badly.

Serves me right for going to the dentist.  I should know better.

"Please concoct me some pill I can take"

I have been very stressed, lately.  I have been looking for a job and have no money.  Not to mention my grandmother is in bad shape.  This has of course caused my tics to increase in intensity and frequency.  Some old favorites have come back.  I am riding a strong vocal tic wave, right now.  It's all saliva, throat and breathing stuff.  Not as many facial tics as usual.  But they'll be back.  

I might have found a job today.  This will cause my tics to calm down a bit.  But not, yet.  It doesn't work that way.  It doesn't just get shut off.  I have to wait for it.  It's as if I have a splitting headache and just took two Tylenol.  Now I am just waiting for the pills to kick in.

It's amazing how clear the connection between my stress levels and tic frequency is.  

But if it's not stress it's something else.  There are a million cause and effect scenarios I could list.  It doesn't really matter, I guess.  Knowing what caused this particular increase in intensity is not important.  It's not like once I figure it out I can stop.  

Stress is temporary.  TS is not.

"Another one bites the dust."

I saw George Carlin perform in Vegas a week before he died. I saw one of his last shows. I think he did three more after I saw him. The whole first half of his act was about death. In fact, his set was incredibly morbid. So much so, that it had me thinking about death the whole next week. The man was so well spoken when it came to his point of view. He really got me thinking. So, last Sunday I went to bed thinking about death. I got really bummed out. I was thinking about George's act and the things he said.
I awoke the next morning and reached for my phone to shut off that horrible buzzing sound it was making. After the alarm was disarmed, I read a text message from my mother telling me Carlin died. My parents saw the Carlin show with me, the week before.
Wow. After he sparked so much thought about my own mortality through joking about his; he kicked the bucket. It kind of freaked me out.
I always thought George carlin had a tic. He was a blinker. There was no doubt about that. He blinked on camera compulsively. Was it TS? I don't know. It could have been his contacts. Maybe he had minor TS and was unaware of it for his 71 years of life. Or maybe he knew. Or maybe it was something else. The point is I noticed it years ago.
When I saw him a week before he died, he did a TS joke. Fuck if I could remember the joke... All I know is it involved the words: Tourette Syndrome. It wasn't particularly funny. But it wasn't poking fun, either. It was a joke that used TS as a device to get to the punchline. I felt awkward beacuse my girlfriend was seated next to me and I never want any flags risen. I can see the light bulb going off over her head as if we were in a bugs bunny cartoon. "Tourettes? Hmmmm.... Eureka!" Other than that I let it slide.
There are lots of famous people who have TS. This must be true. There are too many of us out there and so many varying degrees of the syndrome for it not to be. I have suspected many people over the years of it as I watched them make money on my tv screen.
What if they all came clean? That would be something...

Speculation

The other day, my girlfriend was telling me about something that happened at work. She had an argument with a coworker about allergies. The interesting thing is how the argument started. The guy was sniffing repeatedly. She suggested to him that he may be allergic to something. He immediately got very defensive and said he was sure he was not. My girlfriend insisted that he may be and not know it. This is when they started arguing about whether we are born with our allergies or if they can develop over time. That's really what her story was about. What I got out of it was a very different one.
Now, I only received a second hand account of that conversation but I couldn't help thinking that this guy she works with may have TS. He's a "sniffer." That could be why he became so defensive and why he adamantly denied the possibility that he could be allergic to something. In my girlfriend's defense, she doesn't know much about TS. Even if she is aware of my affliction on some level, I'm pretty sure she has not assigned it the label Tourette Syndrome.
She was innocently trying to help this fellow. But if in fact he is a touretter, he knows all too well, that allergies are not his problem.
It was awkward hearing this story. I didn't say much about it. I let it go. I never like drawing any attention to anyone else's TS for it might turn the focus to me. But I wonder if my girlfriend is in the loop about what is really up with me; how that conversation with her coworker may have been different...

“I thought so hard I got a headache.”

I have a memory...I was about 13 or so. I could have been as old as 15. I had a major headache. It's the closest I can say I have ever been to a migraine. It may have even been one. I wouldn't know. My mother suffers form chronic migraines. Anyway, every once in a while my TS triggers some major headaches. The tics cause my head to hurt. The more my head aches, the more I tic. The more I tic the more it hurts and so on.
On that particular day, I let it get away from me. The headache became so intense that I no longer had any control over it. I became hysterical. I cried harder and harder. My parents didn't know what to do. It got to the point that I could not stop crying. If I stopped my head would hurt more. So, I continued to cry. The pain was so intense that I could do nothing else.
I am sure my parents gave me some Tylenol or something. I don't remember. I also don't remember how that night ended. I remember the worried countenances, though. I guess I fell asleep at some point.
I never told anyone what really caused the headache. I have never shared the cause of frequent headaches with anyone. I have headaches that last for several days. I am on day three, right now. I awake in the morning and as soon as my consciousness recognizes the headache is still there my facial tics go to work. They begin hammering away with assorted grimaces and twitches. Fear not, the demon will keep this headache going.
I often worry that one day I will develop migraines like my mother has. I can't even imagine what that will be like.
A debilitating headache instigated and prolonged by the sufferer, himself.

Caught inside

I think I am destroying my eye sight. I have this tic. I unfocus my eyes for a second or two. I am not even sure how I do it. I have looked in the mirror while doing it and I don't appear to be crossing my eyes or anything.

I have been doing this for years. I did it when I was a child. It was never leading the pack of tics, though. There are usually one or two tics that seem to take priority over the rest for a period of time. A few days, weeks or months. And for whatever reason a new tic or tics will take the lead when it is their turn.

My point, here is that this eye business has been my tic of choice lately. Not only does it give me headaches but I think it is ruining my vision. I feel like I need a new prescription for my contacts all of the sudden. This must be a direct result of this horrible tic. By the way, wearing contacts is a great way to excuse yourself in public when banging out some eye tics for all to see. "Are you OK?" "Oh yeah. It's just my contacts."

Once, when I was in college, this girl caught me in the middle of a series of eye tics. She said, "Do you wear contacts?" Half way through her sentence the inflection in her voice changed dramatically. This was probably just around the split second when she realized I could not be wearing contacts because my face was in fact bespectacled. This was before I ditched the glasses and switched to the more intimate version of vision correction I wear to this day.

I am unfocusing my eyes as I am typing this. This tic sucks. It really does. I hate them all; don't get me wrong. But within that madness I do have my favorites. And believe me, this is not on that list. I would much rather be making tight fists or jerking my jaw all over the place or tilting my head back as far as possible so as to feel that painful stretch on my throat. Ahh, what a feeling that painful stretch is. Good stuff.

I have always worried about long term effects of my many tics. Arthritis, dis alignment of my jaw, backaches, etc...

I saw a chiropractor once. He did an x-ray. He mad a comment about how the bottom of my spine looks crooked or weird or some such word that aroused curiosity in me when hearing it being used to describe my spine. But he got distracted by something else and then seemed to forget about it. Of course, I could have and should have reminded him but I chose to ignore it out of fear. As a kid I had some tics that wreaked havoc on my lower back. I have always feared they did some damage. And this "Dr." or rather a guy with and X-ray machine noticed something a little off. He confirmed my fears but I don't know to what degree. Yes, because I ignored it.

So, here I am. Perhaps right in the middle of a long term effect. It's a difficult position to word. When you are in the middle of something, I mean. It's after the anticipation of something and before the looking back at it. Right after the September 11 attacks during a conversation with a good friend of mine I expressed how weird I felt. And that I did not know how to describe the feeling. His reply made all the sense in the world. He said, "We're in history."

The sentence itself makes no sense. But it makes lots of sense, too. How can we be experiencing history in the present tense, right?

And, now I am in the middle of something that is happening to me. A result of my own self destructive nature. And my self destruction is beyond my control. Now, that sentence makes no sense! But, yet.

It makes perfect sense all the same. If you're a touretter, anyway.

"Sweet pain, don't you dare leave me alone."

Tourette Syndrome hits us when we're down. It fights dirty. Every time I get injured, which is often because I am a pretty active fella, the demon attacks the injury. I once separated my shoulder. This is very painful and takes lots of rest to heal. But the demon would not let that happen. I developed a new tic that involved moving the injured shoulder. This repeated action significantly delayed the healing process, not to mention hurt every time that particular tic was acted out.
Right now, my back is messed up. It's nothing major but it will need a day or two to heal. And of course, I immediately implemented a new tic that makes sure the injury will heal as slowly as possible. Some back arching nonsense.
But pain is all part of it. Many of my tics don't feel complete or right unless there is a bit of pain involved. I need the pain. And I am no fan of pain. Not in the least. I dislike pain very much. Unfortunately the demon knows this. And so Pain I must endure.

Dirty hands

I've been biting lately. Not other people but myself. Although, there was a short period of time in college in which I was biting other people but that's another story. I bite the back of my hand, right where the middle finger meets the rest of my hand on the top knuckle. I don't bite till it hurts. I just need to feel the skin in my mouth. Some times the urge is so intense it drives me mad.
It does so because due to my occupation, my hands get dirty at work all the time. So, I need to constantly clean them or I will be sticking my filthy hands in my mouth. So, now I have two urges fighting each other. There is the need to feel my rough skin in my mouth and the need to wash any bacteria off my hands. I want to put my hand in mouth very badly but due to the nature of my job I won't be able to get to a sink for a few minutes.
Sometimes I lose the battle. I cave. I shove my knuckle into my mouth before I get to clean it. I also stick my index finger's knuckle in my mouth. I bend it and shove the callused middle knuckle up against my gums. I push until it starts to hurt. Many times, also dirty.
Now, I have canker sores in my mouth. Oh well.

TOCSD

I have trouble remembering tics from when I was very young. I think they were there. I guess I remember them but I am having trouble putting a date to the memories. I do, however remember many examples of OCD from my very early years.
I have this one memory from kindergarten. I remember seeing this kid in my class who was wearing his father's watch. It was huge on his wrist. It wouldn't sit right on his little 5 yr old arm. The clock face would just slide down and end up on the wrong side of his wrist. I wanted to leap across the desk and fix it. I couldn't stand that the watch was upside down.
This is something that still bothers me. It always has. When I see people wearing their watches with the face on the inside of their wrist it drives me nuts. I want to grab it and flip it around. But I can't. I can't just go grabbing at people's wrists on subways and bank lines.
I remember when I was a teenager, I had some friends that would wear their watches this way. We were friends and comfortable enough with each other that I could "fix" their watches. And I would. I did it all the time. It got to the point that one friend would turn her watch around on her wrist whenever she saw me coming. I would see her doing it as we approached one another.
Wow. What a feeling. The feeling of elation I get from something as ridiculous as another person adjusting the way they wear their watch to the way I liked it to be worn is otherworldly.
While we're on the subject, when I was a child I could not stand when a girl's hair would fall down in front of her shoulders. Ya know, when just some of it is in front and some in back. It "had to" be back behind her shoulders. I couldn't stand looking at a girl or an adult for that matter and see her hair not behind her shoulders and down along her back. It drove me nuts and this was another one of those situations wherein I could not just go around flicking stranger's hair behind their shoulders.
Come to think of it. This went on during my college years, too. I remember being with a girlfriend of mine and always putting her hair behind her. Oh and another thing. Their hair has to be behind their ears. I hate when it just hangs down in front of their ears. I still tuck my girlfriend's hair behind her ears all the time.
So, back to OCD in my youth. I can remember when I was in elementary school...I would find myself spinning around. See, if I turned to my left for example, I could not keep going to the left in order to face front again. I would have to go back the way I came. And if I did make a full turn in one direction, I would then turn back the other way to correct it. I always imagined I had wires attached to me. And I would be untangling them by spinning back the other way. I was a spinning fool, as a child. It got so bad that I sometimes could barely function unless I twirled around this way and that way for minutes at a time. I never told anyone about the wires attached to me. Not until just now have I ever really let that out of my head.
Today, I am obsessed with flips. I have to flip. I can do a standing back flip and have done flips on skis and off of ocean cliffs and diving boards. There's something about completing the rotation that needs to be done. It's almost like untangling the wires. It needs to be a complete rotation.
I don't just flip myself. I flip everything that is in my hands. I flip glass bottles in stores before I purchase them. I flip wine bottles and snapple bottles. I flip my cell phone all the time. I used to have this job which required me to have a walkie-talkie on me at all times. I would obsessively flip it. Over and over again.
The list goes on and on. I have severe OCD. And yet, I am way more concerned with my TS. As a child, I did not know I had OCD. I did not know I had TS, either. I diagnosed myself with TS when I was about 12 or so. Maybe earlier. I always thought of my obsessions and compulsions as a part of my TS. It was when I got older and everyone and their mother suddenly had OCD and it was ok to have OCD, that I realized I indeed have OCD. But to me my OCD will always be my TS. They are one and the same. I do not believe you can have TS without having OCD.
Some people make that argument and I believe they are naive. TS is an extension of OCD. It is merely a rare symptom of OCD. Much like copralalia is a rare symptom of TS. Not all people with OCD have TS. And not all people with TS have copralalia.
But it is my strong belief that all touretters have OCD.
Deal with it.

It neeeeeds to feeeeeeeeeeel right.

What makes a tic "feel right?" When is it ok to move on? There really are no set of rules on this. Sometimes I will do something over and over until it feels right. But then it felt so right that I have to recreate that perfect tic and so I start the cycle all over again until it "feels right" again.
Yesterday, I found myself saying something I was thinking out loud, repeatedly. I started to analyze the process. It's the way the words feel when they pass through my mouth that needs to be done just right. The way my mouth feels when I say the letter L, for example. The way my tongue feels as it catches the spot where my teeth meet the roof of my mouth. Sometimes I hold that L for a time extended past the appropriate accepted length. No one notices. It's a split second. But I am savoring the feeling of my tongue pushing hard against that tiny space between the back of my front teeth and the roof of my mouth. I press hard.
Sometimes if it didn't feel hard enough I will reach into my mouth and stab the spot with my fingernail to emphasise the feeling that is still lingering in that spot from the recent L that has just been uttered. I also sometimes stick my knuckle, because it is calloused and hard, in my mouth, into that spot for the same reason.
When I hear a breathy sound, like that of an AH or OH exit my mouth, it needs to pass through my mouth hard. I need to feel the sound push through my lungs, throat, mouth and lips. And after I speak these sounds they need to be repeated. They need to be said again with much more care than when they were spoken in mere conversation. Upon repetition there will be careful attention payed to the way they feel as they exit my body and enter the world.
W. This is an interesting sound, too. That fucking W does some funky shit to my lips. They have to be pursed just right when I repeat this sound. The top lip has to be nice and wrinkled up and pushing it self out hard. I have to "feel it." Over and over and over again. And I may be caught making a bonobo-esque face, uttering hard and concentrated W sounds. Then those W sounds evolve into some other throaty sound that is a whole other vocal tic, altogether. And suddenly I am onto a series of vocal tics that had nothing to with said W in the first place. But don't worry, I will get back to the W. Once I am done here, I will return to my prior engagement. No tic will be left behind.
I will get to you all, my dears. I can promise that. There are so many sounds to repeat. Don't even get me started on the S sound. You don't want to hear that one. Not unless you like hearing me whistle in a really high pitch.

Quit it.

I am extremely obsessive. I know, this is no shocker. I have Tourettes. And where goes Tourettes follows Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I am often heard saying that I have an addictive personality. And to accompany that statement you will hear that I have tremendous will power. And this is, somewhat, true. But that seems like such a moronic way to explain obsessiveness. I latch on to things. I was a total pot head at one time. I was also a raging alcoholic. I go to the gym every single day. I am a huge skier, so much so that I quit my well paying job and left the city of my birth to ski the Rockies full time.
I quit smoking pot. Just stopped one day. I used to smoke 7 times a day, every day. One day I decided not to do it anymore and I stopped. I did the same thing with drinking. And I was drinking 7 days a week. I just quit. That lasted 5 years. But I have never returned to the drunk lifestyle I once led. I never smoke pot anymore, either. This is the will power.
The truth is I do not have an "addictive personality" or amazing "will power." I have Tourettes Syndrome. It annoys me when people say, "you're obsessed with the gym" or "you're obsessed with skiing" or "I don't have the will power you have." These obsessions take hold of me. I cannot rest. I think about them constantly. And when it is set in my head how things are gonna be, then that's how it's gonna be. When I decided to quit smoking pot; I did. It is not an amazing display of will power. I will just mentally fall apart if I go against what the demon has decided I do. If I do not eat right or work out I will feel "off." And in OCD or TS terms that is not a good thing to feel. It will only result in much trouble for me.
The point is I have to keep myself in line or else I will pay for it. I will pay either in tic form or an indescribable feeling I am sure other touretters can relate to.
I wish I could skip a day at the gym. I wish I could feel comfortable or at rest without meeting my skiing quota. I wish I could but I can only do this when I am told to do so by the demon that lives within.
It is true I am easily addicted to things. And it is true I can easily quit them. But it is a constant struggle within my physical being that I dare not try to explain to those around me. It is simply interpreted as strength.
Maybe one day I will actually be the strong person I am thought to be and thus tell of how much a weakness my apparent strength truly is.

"All the live long day."

I have a new job. I am the new guy. No one knows my story. No one knows I have TS. The vocal tics have been bad at times but I am an expert at hiding them. And the nature of my work environment makes it easy for others not to notice.
I was thinking about what I would say if someone called me on the sounds I was making. The funny thing is that after all these years I don't have a bullshit answer. I mean I should have some answer I can throw at people. "Clearing my throat" or something. But I have nothing. I laughed out loud at the thought. I have no answers.
When people have said something in the past I either ignored them or shrugged my shoulders, saying, "I dunno." Once, in college, this guy who was sitting next to me in class asked me why I was making all those noises. I said, "what, you don't make noises?" Playing it off as if it were normal activity to be taking part in during English Lit 101. That stumped him. "Ask me questions, will ya?"
I am sure he just thought I was weird. Which is not incorrect. I am weird. Weird people do things like make frog noises in class and a face like they just bit into the world's largest lemon while in line at the bank. Yet, there is no frog. And I sure as shit ain't holding any lemon. Yeah, that's what weirdos do.
OK, so I am weird. What am I gonna say? "No, I am not weird. I have Tourette's Syndrome." That's fucking weird. People who go around telling strangers in supermarkets about their syndromes are weird.
So, to sum up. New job. New people. No one knows how weird I am, yet.

"I can run like the wind blows."

I started running when I was about 7. It was the 80's and my parents were big into running back then. So, I started running with my dad. I guess I was pretty good at it. I entered races and placed in my age group. It was the only sport I was good at as a child. I ran until I was about 14 because I injured myself while running cross country track in high school. So, I just stopped. I started running again when I was about 25. Been runnning ever since. And I do love to run.
It is really one of the few times in my day I can get out there and be by myself. It's just me and my thoughts out there trudging along. Away from my girlfriend, away from work, away from my money problems.
Usually when I run, I don't tic so much. When I get in a groove and am lost in thought I forget I have TS. Sometimes my thoughts make their way over to that fact and I do start to tic. It mixes in with my breathing. The vocal tics do, anyway. But no one is there to hear it. And if they do it's either lost in the Doppler effect or in the blurry sound of a passing runner's heavy breathing. Once I start ticcing, though I tend to get loud with it. Mostly because I know no one will hear it or notice it. It's kind of like when I am alone in a room.
But when I am running it intensifies because all of my thoughts are intensified. I am thinking hard thoughts; pumping blood through my heated, adrenalin ridden muscles. It's just an intense feeling to begin with. Mix that with TS, and escapist thoughts and you've got a ticensified 40 minutes of alone time.
I do enjoy the lengthy periods of running time that are not overwhelmed by my tics. The exercise frees me from them in a way. That is until I realize I haven't been ticcing and the demon takes hold of my brain. "Woah, easy guy. You thought you had me tricked. Not so fast, track star." And the tics resume. The battle continues.
I can run all I want. I'll never be able to get away.

Talking to myself

It often appears that I am talking to myself. I don't think I get caught doing it all that much, though. The thing is I am not having a conversation with voices in my head or even with myself aloud. I am repeating things I have heard, said or thought. Phrases, words and thoughts just get stuck. It's like when a needle gets stuck on a record. It keeps skipping over and over, playing that same lyric until someone taps the needle head and the song continues on its course.
This goes on in my head all day long. And usually it stays right there, inside my head. But sometimes it makes it to my lips. And it's not just words. It's the facial expressions that go along with the words. And then these expressions become more and more exaggerated as the repetition goes on.
I figured out a trick the other day while in my car. I was driving alone and pulled up to a red light. I was yapping away. The driver in the next car looked over, seemed disinterested and looked away. I realized I was holding my cell phone in my hand not far from my head. The indifferent driver must have thought I was using the speakerphone. Brilliant. So, now I am driving all over the place, repeating all sorts of shit with my trusty cell phone near by. This can work on the street, too.
Hell, all I need to do is pop my bluetooth earpiece into my ear and none will be the wiser.

"Something's got to give."

I was on the edge of the Grand Canyon. It's pretty cool. You can just walk all the way out to the edge. I walked away from the crowds and found this cool pillar of stone that was somewhat separate from the rest of the rock. It didn't look like you could get to it but I investigated and did.
So, I sat out there on the edge of the canyon by myself for a long time. I had my legs dangling over the edge. It's a great feeling. It shows you how close to death we all are. I don't mean close to death as in it's easy to die at any time. I mean close as in it's right there. Right there next to you. When you're driving 80 miles an hour on a highway and just ten feet to your right is a deep trench. If you swerved into it you would most likely die. It's right there. It's so close. And that is the feeling I got with my legs draped over the edge of the nation's largest canyon. I thought about a lot of things while I sat there.
I went back at night. There was not a soul there. The canyon was blank. Total darkness. My headlamp would illuminate the rock but beyond that was a dark abyss. I climbed back out to my perch and sat there. And death was right there next to me, just minding its own business. And then came the urge.

Tourettes is all about urges. That's really all it is. An enormous amount of irresistible urges. I don't want to die. In fact I am so scared of death that sometimes I think that fear will drive me mad. It wasn't an urge to commit suicide. But it was an urge to jump. TS doesn't create this urge in me because I want to die. If my heart hadn't beaten so quickly while on that edge the urge may never have presented itself. Basically, TS is your own brain telling you to do something you know you are not supposed to do. It's why we yell curse words out loud. It's unacceptable behavior.
So, there I was on the edge of one of the most impressive examples of natural beauty in the world. And I wanted to jump. I wasn't going to do it. Deep down I knew I wouldn't. But that urge to jump was so intense that I cannot accurately put it into words. The demon that lives symbiotically inside my brain knows I am scared of death. That is the reason it gave me the powerful urge to jump to my death. All it would have taken was a step. Just a step.
I wasn't scared that I would do it. I thought it was funny. Here I am standing beside the edge of darkness and something inside me can't resist the temptation of pushing me to my limit.
And obviously I didn't jump. I was able to resist that urge. Yet, I cannot resist the urge to arch my back for no reason or tilt my head back, stretching my neck until it hurts or a million other itches I scratch on a daily basis.
Maybe if every tic resulted in death we would all be cured.

Maybe I am just insane.

I'm in Arizona. I am visiting a friend. In the last hour or so my TS has gotten really bad. I am not sure why. It's annoying. I am sitting in a computer lab at the school he attends. People are probably looking at me. I have my headphones on. I am ticcing vocally - extra loud. When I wear headphones that happens because I need to hear it. If I don't hear it, it doesn't count. Sometimes just feeling the vibration in my throat is enough. It's funny. If I could trade in all my motor tics for just vocal tics I would totally do it. I like my vocal tics for the most part. I mean I hate all of it but sometimes the vocals comfort me. It's almost like they're my buddies. Wow, that is nuts.
I am not denying that I might be nuts. Whenever I think I may be crazy I shoot that idea down because I know it's just the TS that makes me seem crazy. But then I think that maybe I am crazy because the TS has made me into someone that I wouldn't otherwise be. A crazy person. I have become this way because of my dealing with TS. I am not like other people. I have to go through different channels to function in the same world they do.
You ever notice in movies that take place in insane asylums, the nuts are always ticcing? People tend to associate ticcing with being crazy. Now, we can chalk that up to ignorance but there may be some validity to it. Maybe all of us touretters really are fucking nuts. That's why we're penned up in nut houses. Ticcing ourselves to death.

"You'd give everything you had if you could be over there."

Ok. I'm in Cortez, CO. I am sitting in my car. I set up my tent and am going to sleep soon. I have been staying off the interstates. The trip is so much more enjoyable that way. I was in a shitty mood all day today. As soon as I got on the road this morning I called my girlfriend. She started crying and yelling at me for who knows what. I hung up on her. So, the whole day I was just bummed out. And I was driving through some beautiful examples of our country's incredible landscape. It was hard to enjoy it because of my lousy mood.
I barely notice my tics anymore. I guess because I am spending so much time by myself I am not thinking about it. I am not worried about who hears me or sees me. It's sort of like picking your nose. When no one is around you just get right in there.
But today I noticed I was ticcing it up. I had a regular symphony of vocal tics going. As loud as I fucking wanted. No one but the engine could hear me. I am sure it was because I was stressed out. Either I was ticcing more or was just more aware of them. It doesn't really matter.
I think I have been ticcing less lately, though. This trip is good for me. I have no job, no plans, no stress for the most part. I'm just taking it easy. I am headed to the Grand Canyon in a couple of days. I have never been. Tomorrow I am going to cruise through the four corners. Never been there, either. Big deal.
I have been to a lot of places. I am fairly well traveled by most people's standards. I've been to almost all 50 states. 46 down, 4 to go. I have been to a whole bunch of other countries. I have traveled to sketchy places with almost no money and no plans. Sometimes I fly to foreign lands on a whim. Why not? I wonder why that is. I mean I do love to travel. But it's more than that. I can never settle. I never want to stay put. It's sort of a bigger picture of my everyday actions. I can't sit still. Always twitching. Never comfortable. I guess that's why I live the way I do. I never live in the same place for more than a few years. I am always migrating. I am always picking up and going.
Maybe if I didn't have TS I would be more apt to stay put and lead a "normal" life. Maybe I am running from myself. Maybe I feel like if I stay in one place and live like everyone else it would be more obvious to them how different I really am. I would stand out more. No one can see how strange I am under the guise of an outlandish lifestyle. I am the pick up and go traveler. I am the guy who goes all the places and does all the things everyone says they wish they could.
But I wish I could be the guy who doesn't have to keep moving. I want to stay put. I want to feel like I have something to lose. I want to envy people like me.

"Hope can always go up. Tears can only come down."

I am in Denver. I used to live in Colorado. I miss it here. I have seen many old friends. The long drive yesterday was a good one. I realized something.
Ever since I started this blog and started talking about my TS online I am getting more comfortable with it. I am not constantly trying to hide it. I mean I am but not as much I used to. I think it is a step in a very important direction for me. I have been hiding from my TS for so long. And I have been hiding it from the world.
I am not saying I want to tell everyone I know that I have TS. But I am thinking less about who is noticing and how and when I should hide my tics. It still sucks. I mean I am still ticcing, regardless of how comfy I am. I am just fighting the urges less.
I wonder if in the future I will not hide it at all. I wonder if I will just let it go. That may be what my life will be like one day. I can't imagine it. And it doesn't necessarily sound so great. Having people stare and feel uncomfortable around you is not always a welcoming situation.
But who knows. That just may be the way we all end up, eventually. Apathetically going about our days.

45 states down, 5 to go

I am in Texas. The TS is pretty bad. I still have a headache. I was going to stop near Houston and camp. But it is raining terribly here. I am going to push on to Austin. I have some friends there. I have been doing a lot of thinking about my life during this trip. Many hours alone in a car will do that to you. I always wanted to do something important with my life. I always assumed I would when I was younger. As I got older I stopped thinking that way. And then I thought about writing about TS. Maybe I can help other people. I can help others deal with their TS by sharing the knowledge I have gained from fighting mine.
But I don't want to be known as a touretter who made something of himself. And I feel like that is always how it will be. Can't I just be me? Ha. yes, I guess I can. And me has TS. I am tourettes. Hear me roar, you normal bastards.
Ok, back to the car. I have some driving to do.

On my own

I am sitting in my car in New Orleans. I just finished walking around Bourbon street. I have been driving all day. My TS is pretty bad. I have a headache. I am tired and irritated. I have this vocal tic I do with my saliva in the back of my throat. I am doing it like crazy, right now. I can't stop. It gave me this headache. It's enough already! Can't I ever get a fuckin break? I feel lonely and annoyed. Sometimes this life is hard enough. I hate TS. No one to turn to.

"Time to move on. Time to get going. What lies ahead, I have no way of knowng."

I am about to set out on a drive across the country. I am in Florida right now. I will be visiting a friend in Orlando for a couple of days and then I am headed west. I am moving to California. I am moving in with my girlfriend. Our long distance relationship has evolved. Everything I own is in my car. I will be spending a lot of time by myself for the next few days. And I am totally looking forward to it.
I was thinking about this today. It's the time we spend by ourselves that let's us truly get to know what makes our brains work. And as a touretter, the way my brain works is a tricky subject.
When on my own, I am able to enjoy my TS in a way I usually don't. When I am lost in my own thoughts with no one to bother me I find my tics amusing. Normally the echolalia drives me crazy. But when I step outside myself I can truly enjoy it. I find it interesting to observe myself repeating things and mimicking gestures. It's funny to see which sentences stand out. Why are some more appealing to my tourettes than others? What makes the demon want me to repeat certain things I hear or see or even think? I repeat shit I think to myself. Over and over. Sometimes my thoughts strike me as something I need to repeat. The point is it can be funny enough to make me laugh aloud.
And it can be sad. Sad because I am the only one in on the joke. No one else gets it. No one else knows why am laughing and trying to explain it would be futile. And sad because the joke is not funny at all. The humor I find in it comes from my defenses protecting me from how scary TS really is. But we all need to build up our walls somehow. Otherwise it would get the better of us. And fuck that. No syndrome is going to take me alive.
So, I am looking forward to this long drive by myself. I will be driving and camping all over this USA and hopefully meeting some interesting characters along the way. Or not.
Maybe I'll be the interesting character.

Good for you. Good for me.

So, I just spent two weeks with my girlfriend. Once, when I was thwacking away at the keyboard of my computer, she said: "why do you do that?" She wanted to know why I make those faces when I am in front of my computer. And then she proceeded to attempt the very faces in question. She did a pretty decent job, actually. What she doesn't realize is that it's not that I make these faces when I am in front of my computer. It's just that I forget she might be watching me when I am all wrapped up in whatever it is I am doing in front of the screen. And when I think no one is watching...
Once, when we were in the back seat of my parents' car I was staring out the window lost in my own thoughts in the midst of a vocal tic parade, she put her hand on my arm and said: "stop it." She looked at me with absolute concern and compassion and uttered those two words. I smiled and looked away.
People have asked me how it is she does not know I have TS. How can my girlfriend not know? Of course, she knows. She knows I make funny faces and funny noises. She knows I avoid telling her why. She doesn't know it is tourettes that makes me do it. And she doesn't know how much more often I tic than she gets to witness. It's not that big of a deal. It's not like I am hiding in dark alleys to tic. There is plenty more to my life than the tics. She knows lots about me, already. Must I bare all to her? Must every relationship be based on full disclosure? Is there no entry level information sharing program we can partake in? Isn't that what relationships are all about? We will get to know each other in due time. I am not going to force it because some people in the TS community believe it is our duty to inform the world of our condition.
Maybe it gives their lives purpose. Good for them. My purpose is to live my life as best I can without going crazy or hurting anyone else in the process. And if I help some people understand TS better than good for me.

And now, our feature presentation

Movies. I love them. I was a huge film buff as a kid. I still am to some degree. The problem with movies for me is the ticcing. I don't know why but my tics increase big time when I am watching a movie. The same is true for TV. It's gotten to the point that I will not go to the movie theater with anyone. I do go to the theater but always by myself. When people question this, I just say I like to go by myself, which is absolutely true, but still I am not against going with others. I am against ticcing like a mad man and having people I know catch me.
I went to see the movie, Maze by myself. It was the middle of the day on a weekday. There were maybe 5 people in the theater. The combination of watching a movie and watching a movie with tics in it forced my ticcing into overdrive. I was ticcing loudly, too. But you know what? I was thinking, here I am in a theater watching a movie about TS. How can anyone in this theater look at me and not understand? I am just like the guy you are watching on that screen. That's me! Deal with it! But no one said anything.
My girlfriend always wants to watch movies with me. She wants to sit on the couch and watch a movie with me, like normal couples do. But I told her I don't watch movies with people. Ha. that sounds insane. I tell her that it makes no sense. You can't talk during the movie. It's not interactive. Why should we both spend those 2 hours watching a movie together when we could be doing more productive things with our time together? Movies can be watched by yourself. When we are together we should be spending time talking or doing something together.
Anyway, that is what I tell her. And I do believe that to some extent. I mean, we should be valuing our time together. But sometimes I am tired and do just want to watch a movie with her. I know how badly I will tic and so I don't. And the reason I give her is the one I have already laid out for her. "I don't watch movies with people."
I wonder why I tic so much when I watch TV or movies. It's the same when I play video games. It's actually much worse when I play video games. I have read a lot of information about touretters' tics subsiding while playing video games. Not for me. They get much worse. I guess for kids it is about focusing on the task at hand.
Maybe as an adult video games seem less like a task and more like recreation. I do miss them, though. Hell, I grew up on Nintendo. There are plenty more constructive things I can be doing with my time.
It's funny. I love film. And, although I almost completely stopped watching television, I did grow up on it and did love it at one time. And I certainly loved playing Nintendo, Commodore 64 and Sega Genesis. What's funny is that it is at these times when TS gets the best of me. It's like the demon sees I am enjoying myself too much and makes sure to put a stop to it. Oh, well. I will just stick to reading, I guess.
My girlfriend is coming into town tonight. We will be spending the next two weeks together. I doubt I will be writing during that time. She doesn't know I have TS, let alone that I write about it for all to see.
Maybe, we will watch a movie when she gets here.

"Maybe just happy"

Nirvana has a song on their album In Utero called "Tourette's."
I was a big Nirvana fan in high school. I remember the day the album came out. I rushed it home from the record store, tore off the plastic, popped the CD in and listened. I liked to read the liner notes along with the music when I was hearing a new album.
Serve the Servants, Track 1, was playing and I started skimming through the titles of the songs in the liner notes. There it was. That word. What's it doing here? Why was it in Nirvana's world? Was I seeing things? No. There it was!
Tourettes. My heart skipped a beat. Was I about to find out that Kurt Cobain had TS? Can he relate to my situation? This man whose songs I idolize? No way. But there it was. It said, "Tourette's."
OK, take a deep breath. I begin to read the lyrics. Now, Kurt Cobain was not known for writing the clearest of songs. His lyrics usually took many listenings to grasp the meaning within. And this song apparently was no exception. Here they are:

moderate rock...Moderate Rock
May day, every day, my day
Could've had a heart attack,

my heart We don't know anything,
my heart We all want something fair,
my heart

Hey(5x)

Out of town, out of sight,
is my heart Queen of lies,
today, my heart One more on the phone,
my heart One more at the door of my heart

Hey(5x)

Mean heart Cold heart(7x)

Yeah... Uhh....

What the fuck? Not only was I disappointed but confused. Does he have TS? Does he know someone with TS? Does this song have anything to do with TS? Why is it called Tourette's?
Maybe Cobain did have TS. Maybe he knew someone who did. Maybe that song is about TS. I don't know. Those lyrics don't relate to the TS that I have.
That plagued me for years. Every time I heard the song it made me angry. And if you know the song, TS or not, it seems designed to do just that. So, I started to think that maybe that was his point. The way that song sounded was the way I feel inside when I come face to face with the reality that I know I cannot escape from. I have no control.
Maybe Cobain was bridging his experiences with that of a touretter. But how would he know anything about TS if he didn't have it? Cobain suffered. He was a depressed, drug addicted, tortured man who was physically ill with some sort of stomach deal. He had no control of his life. He was a rich and famous rock star. But he was miserable. He felt trapped.
Now, that I can relate to. I feel trapped all the time. And when I hear that angry song called Tourette's it speaks volumes to me. I know what that feels like. I know. I am angry. I am trapped. I want to yell and scream just like Cobain does in that song.
I will probably never know why Cobain wrote that song. I probably do know the pain he felt when he wrote it, though.

Digging to China

I'm sitting here trying to watch a video on my computer. And the whole time I am obsessively plucking my chest hairs out with tweezers. And some of them I can't get to. And it is driving me nuts. I get so angry. So frustrated.
These are compulsions that need to be dealt with and I can't do it. I put the tweezers down and angrily started typing this. Ok. I am calmer, now.
I have memories of being very young and lying in my parents' bed. I used to try and pluck my father's few grey chest hairs out. Obviously as soon as I did it he would get very angry, yell at me, etc... And I would have to stare at them, begging to be plucked but there was nothing I could do about it. So, eventually, I would go back for more. When he calmed down and forgot about it I would pluck again. It's a good thing for him, he is all grey, now. No need to clean up the strays.
I did this with people's hair, too. If I saw one stray hair sticking up, I had to pluck it. I did it to my brothers. I did it to students sitting in front of me in class. Ya know what? Come to think of it, I still do that to my girlfriend sometimes. She gets livid when I do. Ha. She probably just thinks I'm weird. And this is true.
Sometimes I work at plucking a hair out of my arm or chest for so long that I dig and dig until it is bleeding. I used to use my teeth in class in high school. I remember my best friend, after class asked me why I was eating my arm.
But I get them out eventually. And then I am ok until I see they grew back. The little bastards. Always growing back. Maybe one day I will lose interest.
I used to bite my nails obsessively. I don't do that anymore at all. And I stopped cracking my knuckles. The truth is I haven't stopped a damn thing. I just replace one tic with another.
I stopped biting my nails because it didn't make my fingers look so hot. I stopped cracking my knuckles, neck, back, etc because it can't be good for me. Ya know, shaking my head and slapping myself can't be good for me either. Bound to cause some injury. Why the fuck can't I stop that? Can't I replace those tics with something else?
I will. New tics come, old tics go. And the veteran tics either stick around forever or just make cameo appearances every once in a while.
OK. I've got plucking to do.

Hung

I have an enormous headache. I have had it all day. I was out drinking last night. I got home at 4 am and didn't sleep much. The ticcing just makes the headache worse. Lately, one of my most abused tics is unfocusing my eyes. It's not exactly a cure for headaches.
This is the thing with drinking for me. When I have a few drinks my tics get much worse. And then as I get more and more drunk, they disappear completely. I have read about other touretters saying the opposite. They say their tics get worse when they drink. Maybe, they never get fall on their faces drunk. That's the problem. You need to get the demon so drunk it passes out before you do. I used to drink a lot. I had a serious drinking problem. And this was a direct result of my ticcing. The heavy drinking just made it go away, temporarily. The problem was I didn't always remember those blissful, tic-free evenings.
I have also read that smoking pot makes tics go away for some people. This is not true at all in my case. The exact opposite happens. My tics get way worse. That is the reason why I stopped smoking the stuff many years ago. I do still drink, though.
And although while I am drunk my tics recede, the next day I usually pay heavily for it. They get much worse. My ticcing is riding on a pendulum. Never stops. Back and forth. Push and pull. I quit drinking for 5 years, once. It didn't make a difference in the long run when it came to my TS. I still ticced. It still waxed and waned.
I do wonder about my drinking and drugging when I was younger. I started drinking and smoking pot heavily when I was a teenager. I read somewhere that this can make conditions like TS and OCD worse. Or at least accelerate them into a more mature state. I wonder, had I not drank and smoked so much in high school, would my TS be as bad as it is now. I had relatively bad TS when I was a child. Then it got a lot better when I was in high school. It wasn't until I was about 18 or 19 that it regressed back to the way it once was. Maybe it was the forced production of dopamine. Maybe I messed myself up more than I needed to.
I guess it doesn't really matter. I am here now. And this is the life I must deal with, however it came to be.
So, cheers, L'chaim. Drink up...

Close the door!

I had a dream last night that I told a total stranger that I have Tourette's. It felt great. She told me she thinks her husband sniffs all the time and she thinks he might have TS. That's when I told her I did. I figured she doesn't know me. Why not tell her? Maybe I should do that in real life. I think I will. The next time someone asks or it comes up, I will tell my story.
Last night I was at a family function. I always feel some pressure during these things. I am constantly trying to hide the tics. And they know I am ticcing. They probably notice them because it is not as easy to hide them when people know you have them. Usually when I hide them, it's by combining the tics with some other natural looking movement so they're not so obvious. But that doesn't work in a crowd of people who have seen you tic before.
Whether they notice or not I am still refraining from ticcing as much as I normally would. Even if I told everyone I have TS, I would still hold them back. I just don't want to be the focus of everyone's attention. I just want to exist as a member of the group. But I will always be different. Hell, my family is full of issues. Plenty of the people in that room have their own demons to deal with. It's just that mine are out in the open for all to see.
Can't I keep my demons hidden away like everyone else? Why must mine be on display? The whole world knows I have some serious shit to deal with. They can see it all over my face, literally. Sometimes I just wish TS was more like OCD. With my OCD symptoms, the madness goes on in my head. The tics bring that madness out for viewing. Let me be crazy inside my head like a normal nut! I want to be crazy inside! Is that so much to ask?

Palilalia

I am an impressionist. I do impersonations. Not by trade, of course, but I do them. I do impressions of famous people. Some are very good. Some are ok. I can do an impression of anyone I spend any lengthy amount of time with. I do most of the people I work with. I have had this talent as far back as I can remember.
When I was a kid I did impressions of everyone on tv. I did my parents, my brothers, teachers, friends. It didn't start out as me doing an impression. It started with me repeating everything I heard. I repeated everything. I still do. Most of the time I repeat things in my head. Over and over and over and over. But they make it to my lips and out into the world, as well. So, try watching a movie with me that I have seen before. Not fun.
I have a ridiculous memory. I memorize dialogue verbatim after one viewing. And I not only say the lines with the actors but I say them exactly the way they were said. And if it's a movie I have not seen before I will repeat the lines that the demon feels I should repeat.
Echolalia. That is the simple way to explain it. But it goes deeper than that stupid word. The way I perceive the world is not the same as most. I can't just hear what people say to me or what I say to them. Certain phrases get worked over and over in my brain. They deform and evolve and become new phrases. Then I repeat those. Sometimes for years. I don't think I was born with an amazing memory. I think it's the TS and my perception that created this formula for retaining information.
When I was in high school, I used to memorize entire films. I don't mean I memorized them the way people think they do when they have seen a movie a few times and know a lot of the lines. I mean I know every single grunt, sound, sigh, sound effect, face scratch, eye movement, everything!
I never took notes in school. All I had to do was pay attention in class and I could ace any test. This carried over into college but not to the same degree. In one class in college I would doodle while the teacher lectured and refer back to my doodles and remember exactly what was discussed. I can recall spelling tests in first grade. Remember spelling tests? I never studied for a spelling test in my life. I always scored 100%. I didn't understand how people didn't know how to spell a word after they saw the correct spelling once.
I equate all of this with Tourette's. I am not a genius. I do not have a photographic memory. It's the way I take in the world. It was the way I learned to soak up the world as a child. I was and am a mimic.
I repeat things I hear. In my head, mostly. This is why I am an impressionist. I have become so good at hearing things correctly and repeating them that I have developed a skill. But this skill is a curse. I don't want to hear all the depth in the way someone says something. I want to hear it and move on. But I cannot. I must repeat it in my mind a million times until something in me tells me I can stop.
I pick up the slightest inflection changes in someone's voice or the slightest over used movement in their mannerisms. I see these things without trying to. Once I have that figured out on you. I can imitate you.
When I was a kid I was not allowed to imitate my brothers. I remember it being a common sound to hear my parents yelling at me to
"stop imitating!"
When people tell me I have a talent, I thank them. But I, deep down, don't believe I have a talent. I am cheating. I have a disorder. It is not talent. It is a side effect.

Where did it come from?

I wonder where it came from? There is no proof but much evidence that TS is genetic. Why am I the only one in my family with it? My brother, clearly has OCD. My mom seems to have a slight case of OCD, as well. These conditions were never discussed, of course. I would never bring them up for fear of the conversation turning to my tourettes. My brother once brought up his OCD in front of me and some of my friends. I was so uncomfortable. I didn't say a word. I didn't contribute to the discussion at all. I wanted to. I had volumes to speak. But I was terrified the fingers would point at me.
I used to think my grandmother had a tic. But it was hard to tell if it was a tic or her just being old. Maybe that thing she does with her neck is something old people do. She is still alive and I am still unsure whether it is a tic or not. I actually, don't think it is. I think it is just some old lady movement. It's hard to explain but I think I wanted it to be a tic more than it ever could be.
I guess I assume it comes from my mother's side. I say this only because she has one sister with no children and one living parent, the one I've been speaking of. My father's family is much bigger. Lots of siblings and cousins. And cousin's children. No one has TS. I never got to see my mother's gene pool except for the three of them that I know.
For a long time I really wanted to know. I never asked my mom, of course. This all went on in my head. I don't care that much anymore. It doesn't matter. I am not looking to blame anyone. I am just curious where the man I know as myself, the man created by TS comes from; much in the same way people trace their families back to the old country to know where they came from.
I came from Tourette's Syndrome. That is the thing that made me. I don't know who or what I would or could be without it. I probably wouldn't be as smart. I probably wouldn't be as talented. I probably wouldn't be as creative. I definitely wouldn't have the strength or will power I have now.
I am TS. TS is me. The older I get the more I realize my temperament has been shaped more by tourettes than by any other factor. More than my environment. More than influence. TS was my socialization. I became who I am despite it. And I became who I am because of it. And I became who I am with it. I am and will always be a product of TS.
If it were gone tomorrow I would be thrilled. And I would lament over the loss.

Snap, Crackle, Pop!

I used to crack everything. Some people crack their knuckles. I cracked everything. I cracked my knuckles every way they could be cracked. I cracked my neck, jaw, elbows, wrists, back, knees, ankles and toes. I was so good at it after a while that I could crack every part of my back from the very top of my spine to the bottom simply by arching my back. I could crack the back of my neck by just dropping my head backward. I cracked my neck in a million different ways. I cracked my jaw in a million different ways.
When I cracked my neck I would do it by just jerking it around in a certain way. It's funny because it looked like a motor tic. But I was actually not ticcing. I was cracking my neck. Coupled with my other tics it didn't matter. Everyone just thought it was another tic. And of course it was a tic. An OCD tic. A compulsion to crack my neck. To this day I never told anyone except for one boy why I was doing that. They all assumed it was a motor tic and I let them. I told one of my bunk mates at summer camp when I was 9. I don't know why and I don't even remember his name but remember clearly telling him. I wanted to tell someone I was just cracking my neck. That's all. Not touretting. Just cracking.
Things started to hurt. My neck and jaw were a mess. They still are.
I stopped cracking them when I was quite young. I don't remember exactly when. I fought off those tics and won. The urge is still there but I fend it off somehow. I stopped cracking my back in high school. I stopped cracking my toes and knees and elbows in high school, as well.
I stopped cracking my knuckles when I was 18. I just did it cold turkey one day. That was hard to do. I sometimes ask people if I can crack their knuckles. I get a crazy urge to do it and I ask. I love cracking women's small and skinny fingers. I have been doing that for years. When I was a teenager I would ask female friends to let me crack their knuckles. I still crack my girlfriend's sometimes.
Two summers ago I decided to start cracking my knuckles again. I just went full force into it obsessively. And I did it for about two weeks. My fingers hurt so much that I was in agony when I was paddling through the ocean on my surfboard. My fingers felt like they were gonna fall off. I decided to stop again. And I did. Haven't cracked them since.
I don't know how I can stop it so easily. It is probably because of the pain.
A tic I now have is pushing back my fingers until they are about to crack and feeling the pressure but then stopping. that seems to satsify my urge. I do the same thing with my neck.
I stopped cracking my ankles just a few years ago. But I do still do that sometimes. And it hurts. I hate doing it but I cannot help myself.
I still crack other people's backs when they let me. I crack my girlfriend's all the time. Ha, just the sound of a back cracking satisfies me in a way I cannot possibly explain to a non touretter.
TS is such a strange syndrome. When and where does it end and I begin?

A man can dream, can't he?

I want to take a vacation from my tics. Just for a week. I just want to see what it is like. Sometimes I try to remember what life was like before I started ticcing. I do not know how old I was when I started ticcing. I think I was around 8. But I am not sure. It may have been much earlier. I feel like a blind man trying to remember what his childhood was like before he lost his sight. A week off is all I ask for. It's hard work, ticcing all day long. I wonder how long I go on average between tics. How much of my living existence is not taking place during a tic?
I like it when I first wake up in the morning. There is a nice, lengthy few moments where everything is just calm. I am emerging back into the world. No tics. Nice and sleepy. And then I feel one coming. But I can hold it off for a moment or two. The power of sleep is still lingering. And then it's back to reality. TicTicTic.
Sometimes I have this fantasy. I get to go back to when I was 5 yrs old, retaining all the knowledge and memory I have now but with no TS. I get to start over, knowing what it was like to do it the first time with TS. And I am Tic free. I get to go through my childhood with no tics. And life would be so different. I would be able to go through life without the burden of the enormous struggle growing up with TS caused me. It would be so much easier. A breeze. Aaaaah. That would be nice.

The corner of my mind

Two memories.
I have a memory of my mother being very patient with me when I was a little boy. I had this tic that I actually still have. It is a vocal tic of sorts. I don't know how to explain it. But the point is that I could not speak until I got the tic out right. This could take minutes. I would be doing it over and over and would not be able to say a word. It got so bad that I just didn't speak for days. I have much more control over it, now. I have learned to modify this tic so that it is similar enough to the old one that the demon is satisfied and lets me get away with it.
We were in the kitchen of our old house and I could not speak. She, very patiently and considerately, said: "I know it's hard. It's ok. Just write it down." I was so fragile at that young age. No one understood what this insane battle going on inside me was. And the person I needed the most was right there to lend me an understanding hand. I am sure there were other moments like that one but this is the one I remember.
Fast forward to about 15 yrs later. I was living with my parents during one of my many short stays when I was between homes (I move a lot). My mother and I were in that same kitchen. In the same exact spot, actually. We were having a random, casual conversation about drugs. Nothing too heavy. It was pretty jocular in nature. Then she said: "maybe that's why you do all those weird things." She was referring to my high school recreational drug use (nothing major. Just typical experimentation). I said: "What things?" I knew what she was getting at but wanted to make sure. Then she mimicked me. She made some awful jerking motion. It was a terrible imitation, if you ask me. She wasn't even close. But I got the point.
I honestly don't remember what I said or if I even said anything. But I do remember going up to my old bedroom and crying. A grown man crying in his childhood bedroom. It tore me apart; watching my mother make those gestures. Did she forget the horror of my childhood? Did she block it out of her memory? Does she not remember that day in the very same kitchen when she mustered up all of her motherly love, through what must have been a very difficult child rearing process, and made me feel ultimately safe and secure? Does she really think that smoking pot in high school caused my TS? How could she say that?
After all we'd been through. Her as a mother of a child with Tourette's Syndrome. And me as that child. She wants to blame me. She wants it to be my fault. I caused it. She wants to wash her hands clean.
I never fuckin blamed her gene pool. I never pointed the finger at her. I kept it all inside. I never talked about it with her past my adolescence. I dealt with it on my own. And I am sure, looking back that it was probably not the best way to do it. But it has made me the man I am today. I faced this disorder by myself with no support group save for that one goddamn memory of my mother in a kitchen when I was a little boy.
It broke my heart when she said those things to me as a grown man.
A big, grown, baby, crying man.