Sunday after church we took the kids ice skating. For those of you who live in beautiful wintry wonderlands, picture a frozen pond surrounded by snow capped trees and cardinals.
For those living in the city, like us, picture a mall with busy traffic on one side and a parking lot on the other. Picture kids in shorts and parents in tank tops. It wasn’t Norman Rockwell holidays In Dreamland, but we had a blast.
With Stink’s tics in high gear these days (lots of head shakes forward and back, side to side and strained speaking that sounds a bit screechy) I was only too happy to get on the ice and go round and round – getting that pent up “Ooooh, I wish it would stop” energy out.
Lord knows my head had been going in circles as well. “Oh, no, does he need to be put on medication finally? Should we not have taken him off the focus pills? Is it too much gluten? Do we need to go back to the supplements again? Acupuncture? Me going back to work?”
While all of these concerns are valid, I can’t let them define my life or his. The reason? His tics don’t bug him. They only bug me. Which, again, and I fully admit this, makes me a narcissist. BooIt’s why I’m bringing this up now – and I really want your opinion, as it relates to my book. (Yup, more about me. Narcissist!)
My book is not really about fixing tics. It’s about a journey that I went through, and still go through, dealing with a disorder I can’t cure. It chronicles a not so amazing experience at Stink’s school, as well as my marriage, over the course of one year.
Less Narcissistic: I didn’t write the book to have it be the Andrea show. I swear! I wrote it because, despite what I went through, our family transformed. I found my faith. I found peace despite less than peaceful circumstances. I want other moms who feel alone to know there is light at the end of the tunnel.
But the book itself – it goes there. To that place of raw and uncomfortable and wow does it ever get better? I intersperse the book with my inner voice – one who sings show tunes. And does two-steps. And has been known to wear a sparkled fedora.
One person read it and told me that, at parts, he could barely read further. My “creative” tangents were unnecessary. No one cares about this inner voice. It’s too “out there.” It was “sarcastic” and “potty mouthed” and just not what “people who want answers” want to read.
It stung. But then I realized that with all due respect, he is not my target audience. YOU ladies are. And, well, I didn’t write a book to give anyone answers to tics – because I don’t have them. I only have the experience of the journey.
My book – like this blog – was written as a love letter to you moms – to let you know that yes, it SUCKS sometimes. (Woops, potty mouth.) But I made it. And I’m stronger because of it. It is NOT MEANT to be a manual to save everyone from the pain of Tourette Syndrome. (Though I wish it could be.) It is meant to be a manual for a hopeful life regardless of unexpected circumstances.
Tell me – do I ever come off too crude or too “in your face” when it comes to finding humor in a not funny situation?
Why do you read here?
Would you read a book about a mom’s journey from dark into light?
Do my ramblings here make you laugh or am I just exhausting?
Do I come off terribly un-elegant?
I am realizing that the process of writing a book is not unlike birthing a 12-pound child. I might need some serious drugs to get through this. Until then, please know, as unelegant as I may be, I am here for you. You are going to be OK. I support you. You are NOT alone.