A neuroscientist may tell you the problem rests with a far off galaxy in my brain named Basal Ganglia, denying me control of all my movements. I prefer to address this question on the metaphysical realm. After all, I’m a self-acknowledged control freak. I like to think I’m running the show but my body has a different opinion, flexing its muscles with every opportunity to put me in my place. Modifications in order, I try a team approach and transform into a coach hurling encouragements to get the best efforts out of my players – an excellent motivational tactic that unfortunately fails in its execution.
Dystonia is a never-ending refusal to surrender to body parts that won’t follow my “suggestions.” I find it absolutely bizarre how my left foot appears convinced of the “rightness” of its motion, like a stubborn 5-year-old insisting on walking a strange Indian war dance. How about mind over matter? Hmmm. I attempt thinking my foot into a smooth gliding step. No dice.