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Tic With It
Tourette Syndrome Association, Inc.
Michigan Chapter
2006
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What If?

By Annie Braine


What If I stumble,
You are always there;
What If I fall,
You are always there;
You blame yourself, for who I am,
Me having Tourettes,
Why why why;
I am myself with Tourette Syndrome,
It makes me who I am;
What if I fall,
You are there to catch me;
If you are not there to catch me,
You are always there to teach me;
What if I tic,
You are always there to support me;
What if I stumble in front of a crowd,
You are always there to pick me up;
What if I get made fun of,
You are always there to defend me;
What if I skipped school to get away from being made fun of,
You are always there to teach me to do better;
What if I had an eating disorder because of...
You know, You are always there to discuss the problem to help me eat right again;
What if I went to a compitition for speaking skills and got Gold at Regionals and States and 9th in the nation in 2002,
You were there to hug me and be the first to congratulate me;
What if I went to the compitition again in 2003 and did the same but got 4th in the nation this time,
You were there to share the feeling of pure happiness with me;
What if I told u that I didn't 'tic' once in front of the judges?
You were there to shed those happy tears with me;
When you have TS, you always find yourself wondering 'what if?'
All of these what if's are true about me. But now its time for me to go to college and
I don't ask what if any more because I have been taught right,
I have been picked up after falling hard many times.
And now, to my mom do you blame yourself now?
To all our moms, thanks for teaching us
and picking us up and sharing every hard moment with us.
We love you,
What if you ever need to be taught or picked up?
We will always be there because that’s the way you taught us.

July 6th, 2003



Untitled

You're a professional,
paid to use your training
To give my child a future
"they" think is better than
what I could give him
Unassisted.

This is what I tell myself.
I remind myself
that you have degrees,
experience, training, certification,
a resume, a track record, and
authority and control over me and mine.

Yet when I see you
look at my child--
I see fear. I see that you
are afraid of many things--
this child will take time
you don't think you have.
This child will be unpredictable,
this child may not progress
as quickly as his classmates;
perhaps he'll disrupt the system you have,
This child may make you look bad.

I suppose that's why you wanted
his Iowa standardized test scores--
your real question in your mainstream frame:
how well does this kid test?

You have the training. Yet--
You have the fear.
You have the power to make my child
succeed by the world's standards,
or fail.
And you have the power to influence him
or use him in ways I can't foresee.
He is to be in your world for hours every day,
and I will have to worry if I send him to school
whether you'll understand:

I didn't do this to him.

Even though sometimes in tortured dreams
I wonder if that's true--there was one time
during my pregnancy I had a drink, another time
an X-ray; and there was possibly asbestos,
or a genetic predisposition to this syndrome...
Did I pick my mate stupidly? Did I err
letting them vaccinate him when he had a cold?
There are always questions, and I have power
only to busy myself with other things.
But you--

You have the power to make my life hell.

You can even decide not to take him
in your program--the only one there is
that seems to offer hope that he'll get help.
Without you, I'll have to keep putting him
on a bus with a leering old man,
and when he comes home he is crying
and can't tell me why. So I need you to
be on my side.

But whether you do or not,
I who do not fear the child but fear you,
may never forgive you for showing
that you were afraid!!!! you were
stupidly, reflexively, unforgiveably
afraid of my sweet, gentle, special child.
Sheri Lynn Meyers


Irresistible Urgings
Force me into physical surgings
Of energetic nervessness
A burning desire to twitch
Like the nagging of an itch
That must be scratched to find relief.
Others stare in disbelief
Wondering why I look three times
And move my hands like those of mimes.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror
I look again, once more in fear
Compelling persuasions make me look
And grimace like a successful crook.
I used to retrace my steps
Like a weight lifter doing reps:
One-two-three
The motion sets me free.
But relief is short, and can never last
For the number of my tics is vast
And as soon as one fades, another emerges.
Nothing but compliance and cooperation purges
The need to perform
Nonsensical movements that veer from the norm.
An Outcast am I because of this thing
Yet insight and genius to me it did bring.

Stephen L. LeFevre

 

 

This page coninues to grow
and the opinions expressed
continue to be those of the authors.
They are not necessarily
those of the editor
or of the Tourette Syndrome Association
or of this Chapter.

This page has grown so much that it is now necessary to put the older contributions into the archives


Love is not real
Some say love ís not real
But I know what I feel
They say itís just a fake
But reality is what we make (it).

Life flies by in a flash
You can't make it last
The best moments are the quickest
But they last the longest inside.

That I feel--- makes me alive
Our heart is what sets humans apart
To deny our feelings is to deny our being
It is what we are; It is what we strive for

Stephen L. LeFevre


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