Let me start with this:
I’m not anxious.
My hands shake because I have Essential Tremor (ET) – a progressive neurological condition that’s both misunderstood and life-altering.
When I lift a coffee cup and it trembles, strangers think I’m nervous.
When my voice quivers, people assume I’m emotional.
When I drop a fork or spill something in public, I get those glances—pity, awkwardness, confusion.
But here’s the truth:
I’m not anxious. I’m not clumsy. I’m not fragile.
I have a chronic illness. And it’s not going away.
What Is Essential Tremor?
Essential Tremor causes involuntary, rhythmic shaking, usually in the hands, but it can also affect the head, voice, legs, or entire body. Some of us, like me, also deal with something you can’t see: internal tremors.
Imagine your insides vibrating like a phone on silent, especially when your body is tired, or the moment your head hits the pillow. It’s invisible, but very real. And it’s exhausting.
Despite what most people assume, ET isn’t just a condition for the elderly. It can show up in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood. I believe I had signs as a little girl, but I wasn’t officially diagnosed until my 40s.
Doctors still don’t know the exact cause. It might involve abnormal activity in the cerebellum (the brain’s coordination center), or a chemical imbalance involving GABA. It often runs in families. If one parent has it, each child has a 50% chance of inheriting it. But not always.
Let me paint you a picture:
- I can’t fasten jewelry anymore.
- Mascara is out of the question.
- Cooking dinner, signing my name, even buttoning a blouse, tasks I once did effortlessly, are now frustrating, slow, and many times impossible.
Eating in public can be stressful. I spill. I drop. I chase food around my plate. I shake.
Spaghetti? Off the menu. Forever.
Social situations are hard. Not because I don’t love people, but because I’m constantly adapting and compensating.
I’ve learned to be creative: weighted mugs, spill-proof cups, Bluetooth keyboards, and lots of humor. But even with all that… it still stings.
It still feels like I’m losing little pieces of myself.
There are days I want to cancel plans.
Avoid the women’s event.
Skip dinner with friends.
And there’s another weight I carry:
People with ET have a higher risk of developing Parkinson’s disease. Some studies say up to seven times more likely. My father had Parkinson’s. That shadow lingers in my mind.
This is a story about strength.
It’s about showing up when I want to hide.
Standing up to teach a room full of women, hands trembling, but heart steady.
It’s about finding new ways to take communion, with a little help from my husband and pastor.
It’s about clinging to joy, even when my body betrays me.
No, I can’t do everything I used to do. But I can still love deeply, speak truth, encourage others, and live with purpose.
What Gives Me Strength
Yes, I grieve.
Yes, I get frustrated.
But I wake up each day with a heart full of gratitude.
Not because life is easy, but because I believe God designed me on purpose.
Trembling hands and all.
He knit me together in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13).
He sees me completely – my joys, my struggles, my weariness.
And He is using even this… for eternal good and His glory (Romans 8:28).
I am not a mistake.
My condition isn’t a flaw in the design.
It’s part of a bigger story; a redemptive, hopeful, eternal story still being written.
I wear a cross necklace that my husband fastens for me. But living faith is more than jewelry.
It’s visible in how we trust, persevere, and worship, even when it’s hard.
A Visible Faith
I think of Noah. In a world darkened by wickedness, Noah’s faith was visible. God called him righteous and blameless, not because he was perfect, but because he walked with God (Genesis 6:9). He trusted what he couldn’t yet see. He obeyed when others mocked.
That’s the kind of faith I want.
I want my life to show that God is faithful, even when my body shakes.
I want my tremor to testify that His strength is made perfect in my weakness.
I want people to see not just what I can’t do, but the grace and courage behind what I still can.
As Paul wrote:
“Now if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with patience.
In the same way, the Spirit also helps us in our weakness… the Spirit himself intercedes for us…
And we know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.”
– Romans 8:25-28
So please, when you see my hands shake, don’t assume I’m anxious.
Don’t offer pity.
Just offer grace.
And maybe a lid for my coffee.
Because I’m not just living with a tremor.
I’m walking with God.
Debbie Swindell 