Parenting
It’s Natural to Gaze, But I Might React
by Laura M.
Updated: July 20, 2017
Originally Published: Dec. 26, 2015
My child is tied to invisible strings that stretch far beyond what I can see. He moves like a marionette, controlled by forces I don’t fully understand. The movements are erratic and unpredictable, often causing him to stumble or spill his drink. It’s a heart-wrenching experience, akin to watching a loved one tumble down a flight of stairs every single day.
In his journey, my child has surrendered control of his body to Tourette Syndrome. While I recognize that his situation could be significantly worse, I can’t help but grieve for the ordinary life I wish he could lead—one where he could navigate social interactions without the burden of frequent explanations, such as, “Just so you know, my son has Tourette’s.”
Yet, there is a silver lining. My child’s experiences will cultivate resilience. He will never blend into the background, which will hone his leadership skills. He is developing a deep understanding of the connection between his mind and body, which will ultimately make him more robust than many of his peers.
His ability to cope is remarkable. He confidently explains to classmates that he has tics. When they misinterpret it as bugs, he chuckles and clarifies, “No, it’s a different kind of tic. It’s just a reaction.” The second graders have generally shown kindness, which raises questions about why adults often lack the same grace. In public, I notice adults staring at him, their gazes lingering far too long.
Despite his tics, my son is perceptive and aware. “I don’t want to be different,” he confided to me once. When I see the stares, it ignites a fire of anger within me. I’ve been tempted to give the finger to those who gawk at him, and yes, I’ve done it—like that woman in Target who scowled at him as if he were a spectacle.
The first time my son asked me how to deal with people’s stares took me by surprise. Seeing the hurt in his eyes, I wanted to assure him that he was not different. Fumbling for a response, I blurted out, “Just say, well, poop on you.” Thankfully, he found it hilarious, which is a common source of amusement for children.
Recently, I overheard him muttering “Well, poop on you” after catching someone staring at him. It reminded me of our earlier conversation, and although I considered providing a more suitable response, I realized this mantra works for him. It diverts his attention and allows him to laugh through the awkward moments.
It’s natural to look. I simply ask that when you do, you offer a smile. He notices you, and a frown of confusion or curiosity can be misinterpreted by an 8-year-old. If you stare too intently, you might hear him make a comment under his breath, and I may just return the stare or give you the finger. I may not be winning any parenting accolades, but it’s our way of coping.
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In summary, while it’s natural to look at those who are different, kindness and understanding can go a long way. Children, like my son, are navigating their unique challenges, and a little compassion can make a world of difference.
Keyphrase: Tourette Syndrome in children
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