Impostor
Impostor syndrome isn't a disease in its own right, but the feelings it generates can be so oppressive that it might as well be. People from all walks of life struggle with this phenomenon. I imagine a baseball player just promoted to MLB might feel this way. A person who earns a promotion at work and is breathing the rarefied air she once thought reserved for people she perceived to be better than her might experience it too. On top of my normal tics and the stress and anxiety they can sometimes produce, I also obsess over whether or not my TS is severe enough to even merit the attention I give it.
To my knowledge, there are no official levels of Tourette's that might be used to separate patients by severity. I can tell you that my tics don't cause public disruptions. I can probably count on two hands the number of times in my life someone outside my immediate family has commented on or questioned my tics. I know a significant number of other TS patients have tics that are much more severe than mine, and it's hard to express how much I question whether or not I even have it. Don't get me wrong: a neurologist has diagnosed me as a patient with Tourette's Syndrome. No doubt. I hit every box on the diagnostic checklist. It's just that I don't struggle with my symptoms enough to feel like an authentic member of this community sometimes, which is such a weird place to be in. Since I was a little kid, I've always felt my brain isolated from the people around me. That probably sounds weird to a lot of you reading this but I bet it sounds wayyyyyyyy too familiar to a few people. I was finally diagnosed in December 2017 at the age of 37, and I thought at the time that this would bring me some peace. I thought that being a member of a community might help me lay down some of the psychological burden that comes with Tourette's. I think it has to a degree, but seeing how much some other TS patients suffer makes me feel unauthentic for dealing with moderate motor tics and quiet vocal tics. If these other people with TS can rock out their lives day in and day out, who am I to complain when I want to avoid a conversation with a friend or family member just because I'm feeling ticcy at that moment and don't want to be self-conscious?
I truly believe that a TS patient with a case worse than mine would tell me that their symptoms don't make mine irrelevant. My Tourette's is the only case I've ever had, and it sucks as far as I'm concerned. I hate it. I can't explain what it would mean to me to have 24 hours of total control over my body. To know that my eyebrows and mouth and shoulders and neck and arms wouldn't do anything I didn't mean for them to. I know that most people never notice it, and if they do, they probably think something along the lines of "That's just Ed," which I love them for. It's just that I can't properly communicate how much of my thought is constantly focused on what my body is doing, whether or not I presently have the willpower to control it until no one else can see, and if anyone has noticed.
On the plus side, the hyper-rational part of my brain knows I'm a TS patient. A doctor said so, and who am I to question a neurologist? I mean legit, the diagnostic criteria for TS are clear as day and the all fit me to a tee. I wonder if maybe my constant need to compare myself to other people with TS is a byproduct of my constant comparison of myself to neurotypical (normal) people. "Hey, that guy is having an intelligible conversation without his jaw tics messing up his speech pattern" or "That other person has walked the length of a whole hallway without flinging her arms out or rolling her neck! Neat!!" The real burn is that I know it's not a productive line of thought, but gosh darn do I keep on keeping on. My TS is the only case I can/need to deal with, so I know I have to make the best of the situation I'm in.
Does anyone else deal with the sort of impostor syndrome concerns I'm talking about? I'd love to hear from you in the comments! Almost the weekend!
Today's tic menu:
Shoulder shrugs, with neck rolls au gratin
Right middle finger salad
Quiet grunt cocktails
Gut clench steak
Eyebrow sorbet
To my knowledge, there are no official levels of Tourette's that might be used to separate patients by severity. I can tell you that my tics don't cause public disruptions. I can probably count on two hands the number of times in my life someone outside my immediate family has commented on or questioned my tics. I know a significant number of other TS patients have tics that are much more severe than mine, and it's hard to express how much I question whether or not I even have it. Don't get me wrong: a neurologist has diagnosed me as a patient with Tourette's Syndrome. No doubt. I hit every box on the diagnostic checklist. It's just that I don't struggle with my symptoms enough to feel like an authentic member of this community sometimes, which is such a weird place to be in. Since I was a little kid, I've always felt my brain isolated from the people around me. That probably sounds weird to a lot of you reading this but I bet it sounds wayyyyyyyy too familiar to a few people. I was finally diagnosed in December 2017 at the age of 37, and I thought at the time that this would bring me some peace. I thought that being a member of a community might help me lay down some of the psychological burden that comes with Tourette's. I think it has to a degree, but seeing how much some other TS patients suffer makes me feel unauthentic for dealing with moderate motor tics and quiet vocal tics. If these other people with TS can rock out their lives day in and day out, who am I to complain when I want to avoid a conversation with a friend or family member just because I'm feeling ticcy at that moment and don't want to be self-conscious?
I truly believe that a TS patient with a case worse than mine would tell me that their symptoms don't make mine irrelevant. My Tourette's is the only case I've ever had, and it sucks as far as I'm concerned. I hate it. I can't explain what it would mean to me to have 24 hours of total control over my body. To know that my eyebrows and mouth and shoulders and neck and arms wouldn't do anything I didn't mean for them to. I know that most people never notice it, and if they do, they probably think something along the lines of "That's just Ed," which I love them for. It's just that I can't properly communicate how much of my thought is constantly focused on what my body is doing, whether or not I presently have the willpower to control it until no one else can see, and if anyone has noticed.
On the plus side, the hyper-rational part of my brain knows I'm a TS patient. A doctor said so, and who am I to question a neurologist? I mean legit, the diagnostic criteria for TS are clear as day and the all fit me to a tee. I wonder if maybe my constant need to compare myself to other people with TS is a byproduct of my constant comparison of myself to neurotypical (normal) people. "Hey, that guy is having an intelligible conversation without his jaw tics messing up his speech pattern" or "That other person has walked the length of a whole hallway without flinging her arms out or rolling her neck! Neat!!" The real burn is that I know it's not a productive line of thought, but gosh darn do I keep on keeping on. My TS is the only case I can/need to deal with, so I know I have to make the best of the situation I'm in.
Does anyone else deal with the sort of impostor syndrome concerns I'm talking about? I'd love to hear from you in the comments! Almost the weekend!
Today's tic menu:
Shoulder shrugs, with neck rolls au gratin
Right middle finger salad
Quiet grunt cocktails
Gut clench steak
Eyebrow sorbet
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