How Has Having Essential Tremor Affected My Life? (Scholarship Essay)

“Ugghhhh! Why are my hands shaking again?”

It always occurred at the most annoying moments. I did a quick check-in with myself — was I anxious? No, at least not enough to justify all their shaking. Had I skipped lunch? I didn’t think so. And yet there I was, standing up to deliver the most significant speech of my life, and my hands were shaking violently.

Those thoughts were in March of 2024, during the final round of the Oklahoma Bar Association High School Mock Trial competition. It was a night I’d spent hundreds of hours preparing for: memorizing legal procedure, building cases, honing my public speaking. One final match stood between my team and being state champions. Before me was a jury of Oklahoma Supreme Court and appellate judges, and behind them, several hundred classmates filled the audience. I had never felt more ready.

The task was to give closing arguments: a five-minute, semi-impromptu speech to persuade the jury of the innocence of our client. I had practiced this very scenario hundreds of times. But nothing could have prepared me for the way my hands shook, refusing to be still, as I addressed the court.

I wasn’t aware of what was happening at the time. In hindsight, I realize the warning signs had been building up for months — my fork shaking like my wet dog during dinner, the blur of papers I couldn’t hold steady. Unfortunately, I had no diagnosis yet, and no awareness of how these concealed challenges would conflict with my passion for public speaking.

We lost that round — by just two points. In a competition where presentation and confidence are everything, I couldn’t help but feel that the judges must have mistaken my shaking for fear or uncertainty. I took the burden of that loss heavily. Oddly enough, though, I now see it as one of the greatest turning points in my life.

That summer, I decided: my tremor would not define me or my scores. I stood in front of the mirror for hours, giving speeches, experimenting with ways to move my hands with intention. I studied body language hacks, watched courtroom videos, and practiced rooting my presence even when my hands refused to behave. I tackled my essential tremor not as an obstacle to work around but as a part of myself to learn to live harmoniously with.

When the next season rolled around, I had a diagnosis. While the diagnosis didn’t change the fact that my hands weren’t always as steady as I wished, it did give me peace of mind and confidence that the work I had put in was worth it. After all, this tremor wasn’t going anywhere. I was a transformed speaker, and my scores reflected that.

Today, my tremor is a part of me. What I once thought was a weakness became the catalyst for my best growth. It taught me resilience, resourcefulness, and how to convert adversity into strength — lessons that will outlast any scores.

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If you want to be involved in supporting students with essential tremor as they work toward their higher education goals, consider making a donation to the Catherine Rice Scholarship Fund. The IETF awards up to 10 college scholarships each year to students with essential tremor.