A note to anyone struggling right now…

Like so many of you, my whole world changed the day the towers fell. Not in the way you might think though. I used to play the banjo professionally, but a career-ending hand disorder called focal dystonia sent me scrambling to pick up the pieces. It all started on 9/11/2001.

My struggle pales in comparison to those who lost loved ones, and today is certainly about them and the people who died and those brave souls who stepped up to assist in so many beautiful ways.

But I posted the below note in a Facebook group of musicians who suffer from FD and thought that I might share with you too. We are all facing our own focal dystonias, especially right now.

Here goes…

9/11/2001 was the day I first experienced focal dystonia symptoms. I had just moved to Nashville with a band of great friends, and we were heading into the studio to record our first big album. I drank my coffee, warmed up on the banjo, then turned on the news. The first tower had been hit. Banjo in hand, I watched in utter disbelief. We considered canceling our studio session, but our producer urged us to come in. It was the opening day of a week-long session.

I can’t remember the exact moment, but during the recording of our first song that day (“Ramblin’ Fever”), I remember thinking that my index finger wasn’t doing what I was telling it to do. I pretty quickly told the guys that something was going on, and we chalked it up to studio jitters.

That night, I read about focal dystonia on Google and knew I had it. It took a lot of money and doctors (of all varieties) before I was finally diagnosed at Johns Hopkins a year later. Though some lucky souls have found their way around the disorder, there is no cure. Shortly after accepting my fate, I left the band and Nashville with a sad heart and a broken spirit.

They say something stressful triggers FD. I’ll always wonder if seeing the towers fall on television was my moment.

I’ve had bursts since when I’ve decided to find a way through it. Switched picking hands, Botox, worked with some of the best doctors in the field, read every book I could find, etc. For whatever reason, I still haven’t broken through. Maybe one day. I don’t play much anymore, as my symptoms are as strong as ever.

But… focal dystonia sure did give me a lot of good.

I wouldn’t have found my wife had I not left Nashville, and we wouldn’t have adopted our son. I can’t even FATHOM a world where those two aren’t by my side.

I wouldn’t have found my calling either, which is writing novels. After a few years of a pretty serious decline emotionally, physically, and spiritually, I finally came to peace with my diagnosis. I dug out of my hole and found my muse in writing. No, I can’t play the banjo as fast I used to, and I wish like all hell that I could. I still tear up thinking about the thousands of hours I put into my instrument, but I’m grateful for my broken road and what ultimately led me to my place now.

To all of you with FD, hell, for anyone who is struggling right now, I have an inkling of what you’re going through. Even if you can’t overcome whatever your focal dystonia is (I hope you can), there is abundant and beautiful light ahead. For the record, I’m 41, and I’m not giving up. One day my fingers will fly again. In the meantime, I’m having a ball playing electric guitar and teaching my son his first chords.

Thanks for listening.

***

Here is a video from our band’s reunion show last year. No, I wasn’t on stage, but I was front row with my wife and son, a giant smile stretched across my face. The song they’re playing is one I wrote with the mandolin player, Scott Simontacchi.

Since I’m a novelist, I have to throw in a little drama. As you’ll see on the link, we had to bill the reunion show as The No Dough Travelers formerly known as The Biscuit Boys. That same year I was diagnosed with FD, Dwight Yoakam sued us and took our name.

Sending you love from me and the rest of The Biscuit Boys (Drew, Charlie, Steven, and Scott), who are also exactly where they should be at this moment too.

boo

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