Our differences make us who we are

While growing up in two different places, I never really stood out in the crowd. I was just normal, in a good way I suppose, and I didn’t think much of it. Although I feared new environments due to my shyness, I was soon in America by the age of three. I spent five full and fun years and went back to Korea. As I recall I was very organized, did all my work, and focused perfectly well. Those were probably the few reasons why I didn’t expect myself to be in the position that I was, and still am now. I don’t think that I will forget the three years of my Tourette Syndrome experiences.

To begin with, I had never even heard of the word Tourette’s before I started to have tics. I don’t remember when it first started. I don’t think you can have tics, the constant movements or noises I make, all of a sudden. It might have happened slowly, but it also could have been rushed through, too. One thing I clearly remember is the time my mom and dad told me we were going to the doctor’s when I was eleven years old. They weren’t very specific, but I already suspected it was because of my head-shaking and eye-rolling. “But why?” I asked. When my dad answered the question, I started to yell that I would not go. That I was not mentally ill. But I had to, and I did. After waiting for an hour and half, (it was a very good and big hospital) and within minutes I was diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome. It was too much information that I did not understand at that point.

Although this post is not going to be purposely overly depressing, the first years were probably the hardest. It was when the truth hit me hard. My condition was worse than right now. Then, I had to accept the fact that I was “different.” Every time I looked around, I saw people. People just sitting, writing, laughing, playing. All doing so while staying still. But me? Why couldn’t I do the same? My Tourette Syndrome medicines increased to a high dose, and I started receiving antidepressants. I would have to answer the embarrassing question whenever I met someone: “Why do you do that?” There were a few times when some disturbing boys just had to imitate me, and I would get very emotional at those times. I would cry. I was never the one in control when it came to my tics. I was insecure enough―and I didn’t need them to point out the facts for me. And some days it was kind of annoying and depressing, unfair and just sad. For so many reasons, really. I hated when people who I didn’t even know stared at me as if I were strange, abnormal. I didn’t like how someone would judge me before they would even get to know me. It was inevitable, though. People would see my Tourette’s before they would see me. I didn’t like it.

Whenever I would share these kind of moments to adults, my doctor, parents, I felt like they would never fully, completely understand. I would spill the words out from my heart sometimes, but some days I would seal my mouth shut. I could never share these experiences to any of my Tourette’s-inexperienced friends, not even to my closest ones. They would never really get it. Even now, I’ve never really talked to them about it other than tell them about it. I knew that everyone was always there for me. But in a way, they weren’t because they would never truly know how it feels.

I sometimes admit that I think I have had a lot to benefit from having Tourette Syndrome. For example, I see more in people than I had before. I know what it’s like to be depressed. I understand how hard it is to be so hateful toward your own self. I know how sometimes, you don’t want to get out of bed; you just want to sleep forever. I also know that I’m no different than others. Our differences make us who we are.

But if you’re thinking having Tourette’s isn’t painful, or maybe not that bad let me tell you that you won’t want to have it. People stare. Your neck will hurt, and you’ll pretend to roll your neck naturally in school—oh, I’m just stretching—afraid people will notice. Anyone can use it against you; from petty girls to “Everyone likes me so I’m a good person” type of boys. It can be genetic, but in my case none of my parents had it. I could make a list of reasons why I don’t want it. When I look back at the past, I was a very sad third-grader. I was always stressed. I was this normal, popular girl in America, and when I came to Korea, I suddenly had these stupid, severe tics. I mostly cried everyday, and screamed a lot, too. I continued to read a lot. I only enjoyed reading English books, and it was one of my few remedies. I had only a few girl friends. Most of my friends were boys. I didn’t care though, until I got to fourth grade.

It was the first day of school in fourth grade, and as soon as I walked into the classroom, I was screwed. First of all, my tics were in bad condition. Especially my vocal tics, which are the sound tics. Second, I barely knew anyone in the classroom. ‘Forget good first impressions,’ I thought to myself. Almost everyone knew each other, which was very awkward for me. When I got to my seat I waited until my teacher came and until everyone was in the classroom. I still remember this, and I almost died of embarrassment, but I kept on clearing my throat. A boy, who was the most popular boy in our class later on, suddenly called out, “Who’s making that weird sound?” At the time no one knew except for me. Later on, everyone probably figured it out. It did not stop the girls from staring or constantly asking me why I was doing it or what I was doing.

I have recently watched a video called “I Have Tourette’s but Tourette’s Doesn’t Have Me.” I saw some things I already knew, one of them was there is at least one child with Tourette’s in every school in the U.S. It was one of those facts that I had to remind myself. In the video, I saw children between the ages of six to thirteen with Tourette’s. I found myself relating to them, especially a boy named Seth and a girl named Anna. When I heard her talking about seeking true friends, I ached because I remembered how bad I longed for a true friend for years. I cried while seeing Anna pounding her stomach, seeing her cry, scream, and talk. I cried because I saw myself. I cried because I felt her pain.

Even today, I am sensitive about my Tourette’s. I think it’s because knowing that I’m no different, and feeling like it are two different things. However, I am more truthful about it now. I have told a few of my friends what I have, because I think it is wise to. My doctor, thinks that I should tell my friends, too. I don’t think I’ll have to lie about it again. I am not embarrassed anymore. I previously had one incident, caused by my Tourette’s last year. It made me feel so many emotions at once and I quickly burst into tears. I don’t want to cry for something that is not even worthy of my tears. It’s been done too many times. I know my tics aren’t going to suddenly go away. I don’t expect them to. I know it takes time. I don’t have any stress or depression. I think the stress was one of the harder stages. I will continue to find my way, and the more I do, I think the more I will accept my Tourette Syndrome.

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