The Heart

For those who have been following my work for a while, you may know that, at six years old, I was diagnosed with Tourette syndrome — a neurological disorder causing sudden, repetitive, involuntary movements or sounds called “tics” (you can learn more about it here). My case isn’t too severe, unlike many of the people I have met through my work with the Tourette Association of America.

I’ve tried to use my platform to share stories of people who have overcome their struggles to do extraordinary things. And, this week, no one better exemplifies that than 42-year-old Jason Duika, who says he suffered thousands of debilitating tics a day as a child (his mom counted roughly 1,300 tics on just one flight!)… but now takes center stage at Carnegie Hall as an opera singer.

It’s a story of both personal and professional triumph. 

The Journey

When Jason was a young boy in the ‘80s, living in Detroit, he started to experience severe tics all day long. It was at a time when very few people, including himself, understood neurodivergence, so when he was diagnosed with Tourette’s, his life became about surviving — whether it was intense symptoms (including a “whiplash tic” that he and his family thought could snap his neck) or mean-spirited bullying from other kids (he says his school had to hire a security guard to escort him between classes).

Both got so bad that, by age 13, Jason told his parents: “Make it livable… otherwise, help me find a way to die.” He just couldn’t deal with a lifetime of a body fighting against him, medicine that dulled his personality, and therapies that couldn't numb the pain.

But Jason did find something that helped — singing. At 15, Jason sang “O Holy Night” at his high school Christmas concert, taking center stage in front of roughly 1,500 people. His rendition blew the roof off. There was a standing ovation. For what seemed like the first time ever, all eyes were on Jason in admiration, not in mockery. And there was something even more remarkable — he didn’t tic during his performance.

It was an “extraordinary revelation” that sparked something profound inside Jason.

The Turning Point

So, Jason went on a journey to pursue singing professionally through undergrad study at Alma College, grad school at Portland State University, a performer program at Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music, and other young artist workshops. It was during this time that he fell in love with opera and began to hone what would become his speciality — Verdi baritone.

And the whole world has embraced his talent. Jason has sung with over 20 operatic organizations, companies, and symphonies in the US and abroad. He’s sung four times at Carnegie Hall, and is slated next May to sing the title role in Verdi’s Rigoletto — considered “one of the most virtuosic and difficult Verdi baritone roles in existence,” according to Jason.

He now says that “the first 20 years were my first life, and everything after has been the life I was meant to lead, my second life.”

The Takeaway

Just because Jason is living his best second life doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the lessons of the first. 

At first, Jason hid his Tourette’s as best he could, but at the behest of a makeup artist, he embraced his condition as an inspiration. That eventually led him to return to his high school — the setting of so much of his trauma, but also the scene of that first musical spark — to give the commencement address and perform. There was another standing ovation.

That sparked something new in Jason — a branching career path as a motivational speaker. Jason now uses his stage to raise awareness about Tourette syndrome and encourage those who are suffering as he did. “My Tourette’s was my greatest teacher,” he said. “I wouldn’t be who I am without it.”

It's a reminder that the thing that pains us most is often our greatest teacher. And being able to separate from that painful past emotionally allows us to learn from it. It’s no wonder that, after 25 years as a storyteller, I have found that those who have transcended their pain and learned from it are some of the most interesting people on Earth.

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🚨 An overwhelmed mom of four called 911 on herself when she couldn’t keep her diabetic baby’s blood sugar under control… igniting a conversation across the country amongst parents about the importance of asking for help.

🏈 There's a 58-year-old man playing on a college football team in this country… and it's thanks to a friend who helped him undergo a Rocky-esque transformation to achieve his dream.

📸 A 13-year-old won 3M’s “America’s Top Young Scientist” award after inventing an AI-powered camera system that detects whether elderly people have fallen and then alerts caregivers.

I’m ending the year by reflecting with gratitude for first responders. You may not know that Philadelphia was one of the hardest-hit US cities during the 1918 influenza pandemic, which claimed roughly 675,000 American lives. Within weeks, all 31 hospitals in the city were filled to capacity. But countless more might have died if not for the Visiting Nurse Society of Philadelphia (VNSoP). Its modest team of 69 nurses made an astonishing 134,671 house visits that year to care for the infected — bathing patients, changing sheets, and caring for children left without supervision. Talk about essential workers.

Earlier in this newsletter, we talked about second acts. As we close out the year, I want to leave you with this reminder: you are not defined by your biggest mistake. 

Whatever your most embarrassing, painful, or difficult moment this year was, it does not define who you are. You may never forget it, but I promise you this: other people forget our missteps far faster than we imagine… or fear. Let the new year be a clean slate — a chance to try again. To approach old challenges with a new perspective. And to find better ways of dealing with lingering problems or difficult people.

I wish you your best year yet, filled with good health, growth, and peace.

Happy New Year.