Teetering on the edge of success: yoga and my TS

Posted Thu 23rd Jan 2014 at 21:19
by Ruth Ojadi

Share

As my tics have waxed over the years, practising a fiercely meditative, silent practice has made me question my place amongst my fellow yogis.

I’ve been hooked on yoga from the age of 16, practicing a range of styles from Ashtanga to Vinyasa Flow so that I could find out what I enjoyed and which benefited me the most; and it was the focus on breath work and mindfulness that led me to Hatha yoga, which became my committed practice. What I’ve particularly appreciated about my teachers is the wealth of knowledge they have and the research they have undertaken to help me manage my tics.

Bikram Yoga and my inner yogi

Three years ago I discovered Bikram Yoga. The Bikram Yoga Beginners Series prescribes 26 postures, two breathing exercises, all performed in minimum 40 degree Celsius temperature and 38 percent humidity for 90 minutes. This spoke to my inner yogi and the side of me which thrives on a challenge, especially as I had been neglecting my once regular practice. The more I read about the class, the more I realised that this was my route back to the old me, before Tourettes had become the prominent character.

You see, the Bikram series is practised in a heated studio, so I realised that heaters would drown out most of the vocal tics I made. I found my nearest studio - Gospel Oak, London; however on reading the studio and class etiquette, noted the need ‘to observe silence once in the studio’. Now, I could manage this but would my forever companion TS obey and do the same? I was under no illusion that it would!

Explaining to people how TS affects me

Over the many years that I’ve lived with Tourett es, one of the most practical things I’ve learnt to help alleviate my anxiety and in turn reduce my tics, is to let event organisers, booking operators, travel services and such, know ahead of my arrival my accessibility needs. For me - a person living with TS - this means making them aware that I have both loud and very obvious motor and vocal tics.

I can appreciate that not everyone I come into contact with will have experience of TS, so sometimes I explain to people about how TS affects me, e.g. people in a yoga class. When necessary, I also inform people that I take responsibility when it comes to gauging the impact of my TS on other’s experience. So for example, if my tics intensify in a yoga class, and it becomes very distracting for others, I will take five minutes out to support myself, by getting some water or taking a seat, to try and help things settle. Another strategy I’ve used in a different scenario is to make sure I have an aisle seat in the cinema – so I can leave easily should I need to.

So I emailed a senior yoga teacher - Mark Oram - and we began our communications, which continue to this day. He reassured me that I would have a pleasant experience, and asked if I would mind him passing on the information I had shared to the other teaching staff and the reception team. This felt daunting but I knew it was the right thing to do and since that day, I have had no regrets with how it has all unfolded.

Silence - my nemesis returns!

Last year, the National Yoga Asana Championship came to London and I was so excited. There’s nothing more inspiring than seeing every type of body being represented on stage, demonstrating yoga poses that I hope to do one day with such ease and focus. The only, (well for me, a major only) request the organisers make, is for the audience to respect the competitors by observing silence. Silence - my nemesis returns with vengeance!

I contacted the organisers to let them know that I wanted to attend, however their reply only reinforced the negative but polite discrimination I often come across, “perhaps it would be best if you didn’t attend as you might distract the competitors”. This response both saddened and angered me; how could such an meditative practice, which tells its followers to observe only themselves, conclude that I would shift this inner focus from those demonstrating it to the masses? It felt like they might as well have written on a poster, ‘all welcome, except those with… Tourette Syndrome’.

With my confidence shattered, and my self-worth - as part of a community I thought accepted me -diminished, anxiety began to rear its ugly head. I backed down and did not attend the National Yoga Asana Championship. I was thoroughly disappointed with myself for not standing up for my disability and questioning why I should not attend. I confided in a few close friends, and later Helen Robbins at Tourettes Action, as well as some of the regular teachers who have guided me through classes over the years. All were supportive towards me, and helped me understand that this was a battle I should not have to face alone; a staunch reminder that asking for help or support is not weak, but a strong and courageous thing that assists in asserting one’s own independence.

Looking back on the situation...

If only Captain Hindsight existed, perhaps I could have asked a friend to accompany me to the Nationals. I’ve always felt less of a distraction or public threat when others are around me chatting and continuing like all is normal. I guess my tics stand out less when those immediately around me aren’t reacting adversely or at all.

It’s often difficult to know what support would be necessary, but perhaps I could have let the organisers know I would be attending and asked them for a seat close to an exit so I could have left if my tics intensified. Also an aisle seat and one not directly occupied by someone in front would have meant I wouldn’t have to worry about potentially knocking or hitting anybody close by. Whoever was accompanying me would have been able to provide support - perhaps their ticket might have been free? There are endless possibilities, but they didn’t seem so clear whilst I was paralysed with anxiety.

In the spring, a month after the competition had taken place, I vowed that I would get myself to national level. I’d go one step further: I wouldn’t be in the audience but on stage with the other competitors. It was a challenge I thought necessary, to show that inner focus can be observed - even though my outer exterior looks like I’m tentatively ambulating on hot coals. By no stretch of the imagination am I Betty Spaghetti, however I would like to show those organisers and myself that my practice and my presence is no less worthy of being represented than those living without a neurodevelopmental, movement disorder.

Yes, it’s a little tricky to balance on foot at the best of times, but I’ll get there!

Ruth Ojadi

Ruth works for Tourettes Action as a Group Co-ordinator for the South East. You may also have spotted her on television programmes about TS - most recently she appeared on Channel 4's the Undateables.

Return to blog