Understanding what you can’t see takes more than a glance.
We are all so quick to decide what someone’s story is. We see a moment, a movement, a tiny detail, and we fill in the blanks with our own assumptions. But there is always more underneath.
My husband has essential tremor. His hands shake, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. He has had it for as long as I have known him, and it has slowly gotten worse over the years. It is not something he caused, and it is not something he can control. But what people often don’t understand is how much it touches every part of life.
He has always been steady in every way that matters, patient, kind, smart, selfless, and endlessly talented. Like seriously, it’s annoying how good he is at everything. But essential tremor doesn’t care about any of that. It takes things piece by piece, steady hands, fine detail, ease. Some things he can still do, some have become harder, and others are simply gone. It’s a kind of grief most people never talk about, mourning your own body and the things you once loved but can no longer do. Accepting that change isn’t a choice is one of the hardest things anyone can face. But he lives with it every day, and that quiet endurance is its own kind of strength.
When we go out, sometimes he’ll order a cocktail that comes in one of those dainty glasses that are impossible to hold steady. I’ll quietly ask if he wants me to see if they can pour it into a rocks glass instead. For a long time, he would say no. Pride is complicated, not vanity, but self-preservation. Accepting help means admitting that something has changed, and that’s hard for anyone.
Lately, he’s been a little more comfortable letting me ask. But even then, I see it, the stares from across the room, the glances that linger a little too long when he tries to steady his hand. They don’t know, and that’s what hurts. They don’t know that the shaking isn’t from alcohol or nerves, but from a neurological condition he’s spent a lifetime learning to live with. At restaurants, they think it’s us being difficult, that we’re sending something back or complaining, when really he’s just trying not to spill. And every time I see it happen, I feel the judgment too. It’s quiet but heavy, and it stays with you.
And the hardest part for me is watching him struggle and knowing there’s nothing I can do to fix it. All you want to do is help the person you love, but sometimes the only thing to do is wait and be there. Sometimes love means saying nothing, just letting them keep their dignity while you quietly steady your own heart across the table.
He’s said a few times, “What if I can’t feed myself one day? Do you want to deal with that?” I know he isn’t doubting me; he’s afraid of becoming a burden. But when I said forever, I meant it. If that means handling anything he can’t one day, I’ll do it without hesitation. I will always be there to help when he needs me, no matter what it is. My love isn’t conditional.
It is hard enough to accept the things we can’t control. Judgment from others only makes it harder.
So before you assume, before you decide who someone is or what they’re going through, take a second. Remember that almost everyone you meet is carrying something unseen.
What looks like weakness is often courage in disguise.
Author’s Note
Essential tremor is a neurological movement disorder that causes involuntary shaking. It most often affects the hands, but it can also involve the head, voice, or other parts of the body. Tremors usually worsen with movement or stress and can make everyday tasks, like eating, writing, or holding a glass, difficult.
Some medications can help reduce tremors for some people, but they do not always work well and often carry side effects, including fatigue, sedation, or cognitive impairment. Some treatments, especially in certain cases, may affect memory, attention, or other thinking skills.
Surgical options, like deep brain stimulation (DBS) or focused ultrasound (thalamotomy), are considered when symptoms become disabling and medications no longer help. But these procedures carry risks, including bleeding, infection, speech or balance problems, and in some cases, changes in cognition. For my husband, the possibility of cognitive side effects or complications makes surgery too risky right now.
Essential tremor is one of the most common movement disorders. While there is no cure, every day requires adjustment, patience, and strength.
If you ever see someone whose hands or head shake, take a beat before you judge. There’s almost always more to their story.
Follow me on social at @sixfootcandy, where I usually make jokes about life and sometimes write about the parts that aren’t funny.
