Because Walking in a Straight Line is Just Too Mainstream

This was the chapter where Parkinson’s stopped being a mystery and started becoming a constant companion. Not a guest—more like a squatter who moved in and started rearranging my life without asking. The diagnosis gave it a name, sure, but that didn’t make it easier. It made it real. From that day on, everything was different. The meds. The side effects. The mental warfare. This wasn’t just a condition—I was living with a stranger inside my own skin. But looking back, I’ve learned something: surviving the invisible battles no one sees… that’s a kind of strength most people will never understand. And if you're still here—still getting up, still showing up—you’re already winning more than you know.

Chapter 5

DAILY DOSE OF REMEMBERANCE

2025 Reflection:

This chapter was the moment everything changed. Not just because I heard the words “You have Parkinson’s Disease,” but because I finally had a name for the invisible monster that had been stealing pieces of me for years.

But let me be honest—it didn’t feel like relief. It felt like a life sentence. Like someone had quietly erased the future I thought I was working toward and handed me a new script I didn’t audition for.

I think a part of me left that doctor’s office and never came back. The part that still thought I had time. That I could outrun this. That I had control.

What I know now, after all these years, is that a diagnosis doesn’t end your life—it just edits the plot. And yeah, some chapters are brutal. But some… some are surprisingly beautiful. And you get to write those, too.

Letter #5:

"Living with a Stranger: The Unseen War of Parkinson’s"

 Dear Reader,

If you’ve ever felt like your body has become a stranger, if you’ve ever stared at a bottle of pills wondering if they’ll work this time—then I wrote this chapter for you.

This was when Parkinson’s stopped being something I had and started becoming something I lived with every moment. The rituals. The meds. The side effects. The unpredictability. The planning your entire day around whether or not your body decides to show up.

And still—some people didn’t see it. Or didn’t want to.

They didn’t understand that this wasn’t just about stiffness or tremors.
It was about feeling like your body was a car with no warning lights—and every breakdown happened in public.

And depression? That wasn’t just some footnote in the experience. It was the thief behind the thief. Quiet. Persistent. Deadly.

If you’re going through this too—if every day feels like a question mark—please know: you’re not broken. You’re not lazy. You’re not weak.

You’re surviving something most people couldn’t even imagine. And that makes you powerful in ways you don’t always get credit for.

Yes, it’s hard. And yes, sometimes it’s unfair.
But you’re still here.
Still getting up.
Still trying.

And sometimes, that is the win.

Keep going.

—Richie