I need to tell you something that I’ve never said publicly before: the emotional pain of this condition is unlike anything else I’ve experienced in 65 years of living.
Hearing people cough around you. Believing you’re the cause. And knowing — knowing — that it will never end. It’s a lifelong curse. After 47 years, it wears on your soul in ways I still struggle to put into words.
If you’re experiencing this, I want you to know: I see you. I know how much it hurts.
How It Started
I was 17, sitting with a friend by the Potomac River after a bike ride. He coughed, and a thought crossed my mind: “Did I just make him cough?”
That was the beginning.
In college, I noticed it in a large lecture hall. I’d glance to one side of the room — people would cough. I’d look to the other side — it would happen again. I had no idea what was going on.
I kept living my life. What else could I do? I pursued my career, built friendships, fell in love, got my heart broken. The coughing was always there in the background, but during certain periods of my life, it barely bothered me.
The Pattern I Discovered
Looking back over decades, I noticed something crucial.
During my happiest years — when I was swing dancing five or six nights a week, surrounded by friends, in love with life — the coughing almost never bothered me. It would happen, but it didn’t take hold of me.
But when I fell into depression after a devastating breakup, everything changed. I moved cities. Left my community behind. Isolated myself. And the coughing became unbearable.
I started recognizing people by their cough. I’d sit in the back of a church, and the same people near the front would cough every week for ten years. And something ugly started growing in me: anger.
This is what I need you to understand: the anger is the worst part of this condition.
It builds inside you. You get furious at the people coughing — even though you believe you’re causing it. It’s misdirected rage that makes no logical sense, and yet it consumes you. Over years, it corrodes something deep inside.
What I Was Afraid to Do
I should have seen a therapist. I knew that. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I kept imagining sitting in a psychiatrist’s office, trying to explain that I make people cough. And I could see them thinking: “This guy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic.”
So I stayed silent. For years. Decades.
If you’re reading this and you’ve also been afraid to talk to someone — I understand. I was there too.
What I Learned
After all these years, the most important thing I can tell you is this:
Your well-being is directly connected to how this condition affects you.
When I was happy, calm, living fully — the coughing faded into the background. When I was depressed, angry, stressed, isolated — it became a dragon that consumed my life.
This isn’t a cure. It’s not that simple. But it’s real. I lived it for 47 years before I could articulate it.
What Helped
I spent a long time asking myself: how do I fight this anger? Because the anger was destroying me more than the coughing ever could.
Then I remembered an old bumper sticker from the 70s: “Practice random acts of kindness.”
It sounds too simple. I know. But here’s what I discovered:
When I practice genuine compassion — not faking it, actually living it — the coughing around me reduces. Not completely. People still cough for all the normal reasons. But the phenomenon itself quiets down.
I don’t have a scientific explanation for this. What I have is 47 years of observation. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t be here telling you about it.
When I’m in a bad mood, stressed, angry — it comes roaring back.
This isn’t about pretending to be kind. It’s about actually practicing compassion until it becomes part of who you are. That’s why I created the 30-Day Compassion Challenge on this site.
Where I Am Now
I’m 65. I live in a small village in the south of France — maybe 25 people. It’s quiet here. I’ve learned that I’m a sensitive person who thrives in quiet environments.
I’m essentially a hermit now, and I’ve made peace with that. But I care about people, and I want to help in whatever way I can.
That’s why I built this website.
I won’t pretend this condition goes away. It doesn’t. I’ve lived with it for 47 years, and I expect to live with it for whatever years I have left.
But it doesn’t have to destroy you. It doesn’t have to stop you from pursuing your dreams, building relationships, or living a meaningful life.
And if no one else has ever told you this: what you’re experiencing is real, the pain is real, and you’re not crazy.
You can reach me through the Contact page. I’d genuinely like to hear from you.
“Don’t worry, be happy” — easier said than done. But start with one small act of kindness today. See what happens.