Friends

Everything happens for a reason. That’s something I try to tell myself often, even when it gets tough. However, it’s hard to think so when it comes to the questions that I ask myself; such as: “Why do I have TS? Why doesn’t anyone I know have it, but I do?” Yesterday at night, after I finished writing, I accidentally send an audio imessage to my friend Ray*. It was an audio of me, after a long day, releasing my vocal and motor tics. As soon as I realized what I had sent, I was more than mortified. Of course, Ray* and my friends all know I have Tourette Syndrome. They are supportive and look beyond my tics. That didn’t stop me from feeling embarrassed and ashamed of my TS as I realized what had happened. I texted my friend Ellen*, telling her how stupid I felt and how I hated myself. My friend, being the sweetest person ever, responded by saying: “you shouldn’t hate things that you can’t change about yourself. And honestly who cares I mean I certainly don’t. Okay you need to love yourself.” Then I received a text from Ray* saying that it’s okay, and that he punches things when he gets mad, too. That made me laugh. Apart from the thoughtfulness and understanding my friends provided me with, this small incident was not small for me at all. It proved to me that all things really do happen for a reason, and that good always comes after/with the bad.

(* Not their real names)

Middle School Graduation

I never quite felt like part of my friend group. It really is ironic, because we are all really great friends. We’ve all shared personal experiences, had deep conversations, slept over, made ridiculous nicknames for each other, revealed our sexuality and current crushes, and we’ve kept all of our secrets in a tight bundle. Yet my mind is, of course, an inexplicable place that is full of anxiety, which leads myself to doubt the friendship we’ve built over the past 2 years. This made me want a “new start,” where I could be a “better” and a more “likeable” friend and person in general. I thought this “new start” would take place perfectly in High School. But now I know how far I’ve come―that I am really going to high school―I’m feeling so many things.

Last Friday was graduation. I’m done with middle school, now. I even received an achievement award. I was really, really confused. I thought I heard my name wrong. After summer ends, I’m going to be a freshman. A freshman. A high-schooler. It’s really happening. I’m might not be able see all of my friends everyday. We’re going to the same school. But I’m not going to have any classes with Amy, and I’m scared that it’ll be the same with my Hubby, Mayo, Ellen, and Pantyhoe (nicknames).

My friends have been there for me all the time, ever since I came here. I know we can still hang out, but I also know it’s realistic to lose friends in high school. I cried a lot yesterday, thinking of Ray* being my first friend here, and how much he developed as a person and my friend. Thinking of how much I loved them and appreciated all of them: I just hadn’t known how much until I realized this could end right here. I feel nervous and scared for high school. I feel excited about making new friends. I want to make new friends. But I don’t think I want to say goodbye to my friends who have cried with me, wiped my tear for me, and my friends who I have wiped their tears for them and made them smile afterwards.

Teen Arts

Today was a great day. I have been feeling so down lately, but today was a great day.
Our school has a special day called Teen Arts once a year. We submit artworks, writings, and listen to people play music. It is a special day where our school artists get to share our experiences; a day where our artists share their passion. Last year was my first year at Teen arts. I shared a piece about my Tourette’s and what life was like living with it. This year, I shared (another) personal essay; mostly about accepting my TS, my complicated relationship with my mom and sister, and my manic depression. To be honest, I wasn’t confident with this piece. It was something I wrote when I was feeling very emotional and inspired, but I hadn’t planned on reading it.

Our bus came late, so we only had twenty minutes to share our creative writing pieces. After a girl a grade lower shared her amazing short story, we had five. Then, when my favorite teacher requested me to read my writing, I was ready. I spent three days thinking of this moment. It sounds too dramatic, but it’s true. I was about share a part of me no one knew. I took a deep breath and read. I stammered, a bit, but it felt like being freed from a cage. When I looked up, I saw my teachers looking at me; not crying, like last year, but smiling. As if they were proud. On the other hand, I did make some of my friends cry. (My good friend who hates crying, cried. It was a little funny, because we hugged–which she hates doing, tooso many times, and started laughing as she continued to cry while doing so.) They came up to me and hugged me for thirty minutes, and I couldn’t have been more appreciative of them. They couldn’t fully understand what I was going through, but they were there for me-and that meant something.

Having Tourette Syndrome and depression is hard. But it helped me realize how much my father tried to make me happy; how supportive the people around me are, and of course it helps me grow stronger every day. Even in difficult times, my mental illness helps me realize my mistakes and become a better person. Today, I felt happiness shine on my friends and I as we pranced under the sun. Through tears and smiles, we walked together.

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.