No More Jerks

“If you don’t stop moving your arm like that, I’m going to punish you!” she continued severely. I swallowed hard, and my elbow jerked again, my arm jumping up. “That’s it!” She marched over to me and pinned both my hands down. All the other girls in my bunk stared, and I could hear some of them giggling. Tears stung my eyes. I just wanted to go home.

I never went back to that camp again.

Another memory: My classmate eyeing me, saying, “Chaya’le, if you don’t stop doing that thing with your neck, I’m not going to be your friend.” My neck jerked in response. Didn’t she realize I had absolutely no control over the movements? That they happened all by themselves? And that when I got tense or worried, they got much worse?

My parents tried to downplay my tics — that’s what all those funny movements were called. They didn’t want to draw attention to them. But they bothered me a lot. I knew they looked strange, but I couldn’t control them at all. Sometimes my neck jerked, sometimes it was my arm or my hand. There was a phase when I had vocal tics, when a little sound, like “ah,” would just come out without me wanting or meaning to. It was very uncomfortable for me, especially in quiet times like during class or during Kiddush when we had guests. When we were going to be visiting others or having guests for a while, my parents always told them in advance about my tics and asked them not to make a big deal about it. That helped.