Imagine living with an internal soundtrack that erupts without warning, a symphony of sounds you can't control! That's the reality for Sharn Davidson, who navigates life with Tourette syndrome (TS), a neurological condition characterized by involuntary movements and vocalizations, often called tics. For Sharn, these tics have taken a remarkably unique form: she makes two distinct roaring sounds that she affectionately likens to dinosaur noises.
"They definitely sound different. One is really high-pitched, screechy, and the other is more 'raptory'," she explains. This high-school teacher and mother of three from Perth has found that the children in her life, including her own three kids and her students, aren't just unfazed by these vocalizations – they find them absolutely hilarious! In fact, they've even given her dinosaur tics names.
"My dinosaurs' names are Kevin and Terry," Sharn shares with a smile. "My year 12 students actually named Kevin, and my children named Terry." Between the two, Kevin seems to be the more talkative one, making an appearance more frequently. "He's so loud and noisy," she adds.
But here's where it gets deeply personal and often misunderstood: For years, Sharn experienced only occasional, mild tics, perhaps once a month, without understanding what they were. However, at the age of 21, a profoundly disturbing event on a freeway dramatically altered her experience. Witnessing a traumatic incident, where a woman attempted to end her own life, triggered a massive surge in her tics, escalating to over 100 per day. "It was really random. It was a really obscure event," she recalls, describing the harrowing scene. "Luckily, she did not successfully do that, and all the people on site were really cool and helped and stopped her. But it was just like a really profound moment, I suppose, for me."
Following this dramatic increase, Sharn embarked on a quest for answers. It took a surprising five years for a medical professional to finally diagnose her condition. "I went to quite a few doctors and was lucky enough to come across a gentleman who said, 'Don't worry, it's just Tourette's'," she recounts. "It was kind of cool actually. It's nice to be able to put a label on something that you do that you don't have any control over."
Through her journey, Sharn has learned that stress is a significant trigger for her tics, meaning they often surface at the most inconvenient times. "Inappropriate situations really trigger me," she admits. "[It happens in] situations that I'm not supposed to do it in — classrooms, in libraries, during exams, lots of times when I don't know people."
And this is the part most people miss: Sharn has found a way to not just cope, but to embrace her 'dinosaurs'. When a roar escaped her during a recent road safety workshop with children and parents, she handled it with grace and transparency. "I have Tourette's; I make dinosaur noises, sorry," she announced calmly, and the workshop continued without a hitch. She even uses her tics as a teaching tool in her classroom, educating her students about diversity and acceptance. "I could take medication for it, but I really don't feel that that's necessary," she states. "I think that if you make your differences into something really fun and something that doesn't bother you, then I think other people reflect that and they feel the same way. I am quite lucky; I have quite a mild form of Tourette's."
For students who also have TS, Sharn offers a beacon of hope. She shares her experiences, omitting the more intense details of the freeway incident, to let them know they aren't alone and that their condition isn't something to hide. "But they feel a little bit better that there is somebody out there who doesn't hide away, it's not shameful. It's something that I embrace, something that I make a part of my personality." Her commitment to embracing her unique self is so strong that she now sports two tattoos on her arms: one of Kevin and one of Terry, the 'dinosaurs' who have become an integral part of her life.
Now, let's talk about the elephant in the room (or the dinosaur in the classroom!). Is Sharn's approach of embracing her tics the only way to manage Tourette syndrome? Could there be a tension between fully embracing tics and the desire for them to be less disruptive in certain professional or social settings? What are your thoughts on using personal differences as educational tools? Share your agreement or disagreement in the comments below!
