Everyone has
heard the tales of little old ladies lifting cars in order to free a
trapped grandchild. How their frail frames are able to muster such superhuman
strength is a mystery. My best guess is that when someone loves someone
else fiercely enough, every reserve in one's body can be devoted to
that person in and for an instant with nary a thought.
Imagine, though,
that you are now the one holding this car. Imagine the phenomenal drain
on every fiber of your being. Imagine that you are required to hold
this car high not just for a brief moment, but for a sustained period
of time. Finally, while engaged in this Herculean effort, imagine that
the person you love under the car doesn't seem to recognize the peril
that they are in; instead they lounge leisurely beneath the wheels,
chatting casually with you.
Since you love
this person immensely, you attempt to reciprocate what seems to be their
need at the time. Inevitably, however, the strain of your torn efforts
shows: your words are short and your tone snaps, and everything about
your demeanor is screaming that you'd rather not shoot the breeze at
the moment - just please get out of harm's way. Incredibly, your loved
one, still oblivious to the danger, can sense only your rudeness. Because
you are being undeniably unpleasant, your loved one understandably reacts
with hurt, surprise, and anger of his/her own, and begins to berate
you, ALL WHILE STILL LYING UNDER THE CAR!! You are stunned and quickly
become enraged by this complete lack of acknowledgement of your efforts:
why are you trying so hard when it still isn't good enough? Why not
just let go?
This is what
overstimulation feels like. All of the impulses, obsessions, rituals,
sensitivities, and tics that we Touretters deal with daily, on top of
the (school)work, volunteer duties, house chores, and social responsibilities
that all people have. Keeping it all at bay in one's mind is not at
all unlike lifting a car, and descending into rage is not at all unlike
dropping the car, completely spent in your capacity to keep it in the
air any longer.
I am a person
who, when growing up, wanted very badly to impress his parents, and
make them proud. I am also a person who, since I first began dating,
wanted to settle down with someone that I could shower with all the
love, affection, happiness, and thoughtfulness that my TS intensity
could muster. I've felt that I'm a good person. Yet, whenever I lived
with other people, my behaviour seemed to change. It no longer matched
my continuing intentions, and I found it uncontrollably frustrating
that despite all of my efforts I still became this person that they
and I would both dislike.
Years later
I learned that the culprit was overstimulation. In the absence of any
knowledge of why I was doing these things, and in the absence of any
strategies whatsoever, living with others just involved too many other
needs, too much action, and too many surprises. My poor beleaguered
TS brain simply couldn't handle it all. So I yearned for control over
my surroundings to make up for the absolute loss of control in my head
that others had and took for granted. More control equaled less stimulation,
and a lighter load to lift.
Living with
a single roommate was better, and living on my own was pure bliss. For
the first time, I had minimized and controlled the stresses in my life
enough to be the person I had always wanted to be - giving, fun, and
happy.
For a while,
I fooled myself into thinking that I had "cured" myself and was now
finally able to live with others, much in the way that medicated individuals
convince themselves that they have been "cured", and no longer need
THEIR treatment. However, after moving in with my fiancée, who herself
has a car to lift, I quickly learned my lesson. Just as the cost for
taking medications is that you must continue to take them every day
to maintain their effects, so it is with strategies. I have an advantage
that I've never had before - both my fiancée and I now understand what
is happening and why. Armed with this knowledge, we need to again find
ways to lighten our carloads so that we can be the people we want to
be.
Living with
others, volunteering, overtime, heavy social schedules…everyone in life,
not just Touretters, must pick and choose which weights will make up
their carload, and which ones they will discard. Most weights in isolation
are manageable; it's only when they all accumulate that a problem exists.
The only difference with Touretters is that much of our carload is already
pre-wired into us. That means we must be more selective in what we add
on top.
Will conclude
next time, my friends.
Duncan
