I’m lying in bed looking out in the direction of the lamp-post I can see from my window. But tonight my tics’ attention stopped short of “the wonky-orange-bobble-head” and focused instead on my windowsill:
“Walrus, your bottom is smoother than a melting soap.”
“Squirrel, are you sad you’re no longer a tree?”
“Camel, is your ego as fragile as your leg?”
As I involuntarily chatted to my collection of wooden animals, I reflected on the ironic fact that I acquired the first of them in an attempt to reduce my tics.
The first wooden animal I bought, over ten years ago, was a small meerkat. I hoped that having something discreet to fiddle with might calm my increasingly wiggly body. I used to secretly press it into my hand to create a different sensation to distract me from the urge to move. But this wasn’t very effective as a tic-reducing strategy and my meerkat turned out to be a something of a weapon.
Over the last decade I’ve collected many different animals and while they’re not calming in the way I’d originally intended I do find their presence quietly soothing.
There was nothing quiet about my tics’ response to them tonight but I was pleased and amused that Tourettes had chosen this random Wednesday evening to focus my attention on the detail of the room and my past.