The Simple Pleasures Parkinson’s Jacked from Me

Let’s talk about the stuff Parkinson’s steals that nobody warns you about. Not the “can’t run a marathon” stuff. I was never training for the Olympics anyway. I’m talking about the simple pleasures. The tiny, everyday joys that used to slide into my life like butter on toast… and now feel like climbing Mount Everest in roller skates.

So here’s a list of the simple stuff I used to love—before Parkinson’s came in like a wrecking ball and said, “Yeah, no.”

1. That First Morning Stretch

You know the one. Arms up, toes pointed, full-body “ahhhhh” like you’re in a damn spa commercial? Yeah, now it’s more like “crack… pop… oh crap.” My body wakes up angry. I don't stretch—I negotiate.

2. Signing My Name Like a Grown-Up

Remember when you could just write your name and it looked like your name? Now it looks like a squirrel got electrocuted mid-autograph. Birthday cards? Yeah, I type them now.

3. Laughing Without It Becoming a Medical Event

Used to love a good laugh. Now a deep chuckle sometimes leads to choking, gasping, or a weird wheeze that makes people ask if I’m okay. I was—until you asked.

4. Sitting Still Without Becoming a Human Statue

Ah yes, the joy of binge-watching a show without turning into the Tin Man. Sit too long and I need a crane to get off the couch. “Just pause it while I… recalibrate.”

5. Smelling Coffee Like a Normal Person

That magical aroma of fresh coffee? Sometimes it’s gone. Other times it smells like wet cardboard. Occasionally, I get a whiff and almost cry. Not because of the nostalgia—because I spilled it trying to lift the cup.

6. Spontaneous Hugs (a.k.a. Mild Assault)

Hugging used to be sweet and simple. Now I freeze mid-hug, tremor-shake the poor person, or lean in at just the wrong angle and bam—accidental headbutt. I still love hugs… but now they come with a warning label.

7. Dancing in the Kitchen Like Nobody’s Watching

Well, they’re definitely watching now. Picture me trying to groove to a song and suddenly freezing mid-move like someone hit pause. I used to twirl; now I “trip and pivot.”

8. Eating Without Fear of Choking or Drooling on Myself

Dinner used to be about flavor. Now it’s strategy. Chew carefully, swallow mindfully, try not to wear it. You haven’t lived until you’ve bitten into a sandwich and ended up needing a nap and a wardrobe change.

9. Falling Asleep Like a Human

Once upon a time, I’d lay down and—bam—dreamland. Now I pop pills, stretch out spasms, fight off the restless limbs, and pray to the Med Gods for two solid hours of sleep that doesn’t feel like a hostage negotiation.

10. Feeling “Normal” Without Overthinking Every Damn Thing

The biggest loss? Just… being. Not analyzing your every movement. Not timing your life around pills. Not second-guessing whether you can walk across a room without your legs throwing a tantrum. Just being a person. In a body. That works. What a concept.

So yeah. Parkinson’s took the simple pleasures. But here’s the thing—I’m still here. Still showing up. Still laughing (cautiously). Still stretching (awkwardly). Still dancing (with walls for balance). Still me.

You can take my dopamine, but you can’t take my sarcasm. That’s mine!