Journal of a Silence, Day 7

....and the LAST day! w00t!!

Only my brother and ex-husband made the obligatory "why couldn't you have shut up sooner?" joke (and the ex at least had the decency to preface it by saying, "Do I get to make the obvious joke?" and immediately apologized for it afterward), and I got asked "Did anyone think you were deaf?" a lot--but oddly (or not), only one person MIGHT have mistaken me for deaf; the salesgirl at ISDA&Co. wore a big smile but I could see the gears turning in her head as I mouthed at her, thinking, "Is she....?"

It's been interesting. It's made me realize all too clearly that, even though I may be more conscious of the fact than many of my colleagues, I STILL derive a large part of my identity from my voice, and were I to quit, it would be difficult, but necessary, for me to find work that would give me the same positive validation (especially as I don't have a partner or family to give me that mirroring)....

I'm not talking quite yet--I'm holding out till this afternoon, 'cause I'm anal like that and to start now would feel like I wasn't strong enough to make it the WHOLE WEEK. So there.

I have no idea how well this has worked. I won't know until I vocalize later today--and more specifically, after tomorrow morning, when I have a 9:30am three-hour rehearsal call for the B Minor Mass. (Well, it could be worse--it COULD have been a Wagner opera...)

RM

Journal of a Silence, Day 6

I had a very quiet day at home. I mostly worked in the yard; weeding the flower garden, hacking back the overgrown lavender, planting some poppies, being entertained by the finches and sparrows at my feeders, and cutting some greens for salad, in between the gentle showers that seem to come and go with regularity. I've managed silence all day, but only because I haven't left the house (and you know what that means...CABIN FEVAH!). Boring as this all is, at least I can assuage my frustration by knowing I've accomplished something.

Still....I have an odd sense of discomfort, like something bad's going to happen. I don't associate that with the vocal rest, though--more with my general antsiness, and the fact that I drank a cup of hot chocolate to warm up after I came in from the yard work. I've noticed that the worst thing about growing older is that I can't just eat/drink whatever I want anymore--for instance, a cup full of sugar and half and half leaves me feeling antsy, slightly nauseous, unfocused, and irritable. I never used to be this sensitive to things like that--what happened?

It also seems to make me the most boring blogger in the free white Western world, it seems.

Grf.*

I'm less than 24 hours away from freedom....but it still can't come soon enough.

RM

* Grf.=a small, polite growl, usually of frustration with the current situation.

Journal of a Silence, Day 5

Kill me. Kill me now.

As I think I mentioned previously, I have been mostly avoiding going out this week so as not to have to use my voice. Well, the cabin fever got so bad I couldn't stand it any longer, and so I planned a sortie to hit a couple of outlet stores (momma gots to do her shoppin' SOMEtime, children--youknowhutimean? I can only stands this austerity shite for so long!) and then to Walgreen's for some toiletries.

Well, I screwed up. I admit it. I whispered to the clerk at Walgreen's, I whispered to the clerk at the Nordstrom Rack, and--worst offense--I ran into a neighbor while walking home and inadvertently replied to her greeting with a full-voiced "Hi, how are ya?"--shocking myself by hearing such a loud noise emanating from my mouth after so many days of quietude. I immediately retrenched, smiling sadly and mouthing "Oops--I'm not supposed to talk--sorry!" to her coupled with my now-usual slashing finger motion across my throat, but the damage was done--not so much to my vocal cords, which, I'm sure, by now are as fine as frog's hairs, but to my mood, which until then had been buoyed by the thought of the additions to my threadbare closet. I was so mad at myself, and my inner critic had a field day bawling me out--how fucking hard could it be to not talk for a few days, dumbass? Sheesh, you've been practicing for five days now, and you STILL fuck it up. Idiot.

I'm pretty frustrated. I'm really over this 'vocal rest' stuff. Really. I'm not supposed to have dairy or alcohol, either, as both are bad for the voice (one causes mucus, the other dries out the cords)--so guess what I've been craving all day (even though I never normally eat this way!)?Yep: a big ol' fucking pizza (extra cheese, please), with a pint of fucking ice cream for dessert, washed down with a whole fucking bottle of red wine. Fuck, yeah. Screw you, vocal cords.

Except that--oh yeah, this is the hard part--to order a pizza, I'd actually have to pick up the phone and TALK to someone.

'sigh'.

Pardon my whininess (as well as my swearing--I don't think I've ever blued up an entry this badly before!), but DAMN. All home and no talk makes for a realllllllly cranky mezzo.

Hurry, Friday, hurry....

RM

Journal of a Silence, Day 4

...Argh. (said silently, to myself)

I went out into the world today--I had to; the poor pups were out of kibble, and I was out of a few necessities myself. So, off to the pet store and the grocery store. Yes, I wound up breaking the silence, because otherwise I wouldn't have been able to complete my transactions (did I THINK to bring my pad and pen with me? NnnooooOOOOoooooo....). My voice sounded odd after four days of absence--barely a whisper, hardly there at all (as if I could mitigate my sin by speaking more quietly?). I scurried back home as soon as I could and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Lord, this is hard--I still don't think I'm used to self-imposed silence, even after several days' practice. Maybe some judiciously applied duct tape....?

At least I could still maintain radio silence while walking the dog; my trick of smiling brightly and mouthing 'Hi' or 'good morning' seems to be working just fine. Too bad I can't keep it up in my interactions beyond the basic greetings...

It's also weird because this whole week doesn't feel so much like a vacation as a lost week--without the structure imposed by my schedule, all of which--even the non-singing parts--include verbalization, I feel a bit at sea, unsure what to do with myself. I keep having thoughts like, "I should be at my voice lesson now", "I would be getting ready for church now", "I'm not downtown right now. Hm. How odd". And then the corollary: "Well.....NOW what?" I feel I should be taking advantage of this unplanned downtime.

And here I am, noodling around on a blog instead. I don't even feel like I've accomplished something by navel-gazing about this, though I'm finally posting more often than once a month.

'sigh'.

:-(

RM

Journal of a Silence

In December, I came down with my Annual Holiday Upper Respiratory Disease--this year, instead of the usual sinus infection, however, it was a cold that knocked me sideways. Moreover, for the first time in my life, I lost it completely--my voice, that is. For a week, I could barely make any more than the most pathetic, mole-like squeaky noises, as the laryngitis had its way with me. Since I didn't have the luxury of downtime, I had to push on through and sing before I was really ready. Thanks to good technique, my faithful Neti pot, and sheer bullheaded stubbornness, I made it. Unfortunately, my voice never quite came back 100%, even after a week's rest. In January, just as I was feeling like I might be on top of it all, the cold (or another one--who can tell?) came back and bit me in the butt again, if only temporarily. After, my voice remained somewhat less than optimal; the cords themselves felt thick, and there were times when I would feel them come together--and nothing would come out, especially in the high part of the range, or on pianissimo vowel entrances. Too, I would get vocally tired far too easily; I would be trashed after a three-hour rehearsal, even when I was marking half the time.

For someone who has had cast iron vocal cords all my professional life and could, no matter what, still make a good noise--I sang a Christmas concert last year that sounded just fine, although my speaking voice resembled that of an 80-year-old chain-smoking drag queen--losing control of my voice in this way (and not knowing WHY it wasn't getting better) scared me spitless. For the first time in my life, I had to contemplate the possibility that I had permanent damage, or nodes, and might have to stop singing altogether. Think of it this way: a singer's instrument is inextricably linked to their physical body. To be told I could no longer sing would be akin to an athlete being told s/he could no longer use their legs, or their arms, and would have to figure out another way to earn a living, to boot. This went on for a good two months, with me limping along on my bum cords trying to pretend they would get better, until I finally realized that it wasn't going to 'just get better', and so I trundled over to my friendly neighborhood ENT to find out what the hell WAS going on.

The good news--there is no sign of infection, inflammation, nodes, strain, or any other damage.

The bad news--the hard fact is that, as one ages, the cords, like any other muscle tissue, sag a bit, and simply don't bounce back as quickly after an illness. I hadn't given myself enough time to fully recover from the ravages of December, and so, by continuing to sing through it all, had continued to strain my already-compromised cords.

The prescription: one week of TOTAL vocal rest. That doesn't just mean no singing--it means no singing, no talking, no whispering, no noise whatsoever. AT ALL.

Think it's easy? try it sometime. You'd be surprised (as I was) to discover just how often one verbalizes during the course of the day--and how hard it is to keep from mindlessly speaking. To myself, to my neighbors in passing, to the clerk at the supermarket, to my DOGS, fer chrissakes....to everyone. It's extremely difficult to get through without giving in to the little social prompts to say "good morning", "hi", "excuse me"--I've begun to get strange looks from people when I don't respond to THEM, as if I'm being rude, or there's something wrong with me, or maybe I'm a foreigner who doesn't understand English...? I carry a notebook with me but I just can't write fast enough to explain my situation to a stranger who's given me an exasperated look and is already twenty paces away before I can write ten words to excuse myself after I've bumped into him by accident. So, I find myself mainly staying home, so I don't have to come in contact with a lot of people. (Why, yes, I AM getting cabin fever--what makes you ask? Oh--the fact that this entry is longer than ANY OTHER I've EVER done? Nope, don't see a connection at all....)

I'm noticing it's getting slightly easier. I'm learning that if I'm out on my morning walk and mouth "hi!" or "good morning!" as I pass, people see my face and lips move, and their minds seem to register the idea without realizing they haven't actually HEARD me say those words out loud. I'm also not blindly talking to myself nearly as much (playing music while I'm by myself helps). I still talk to the dogs, though (don't tell the doctor!)--whether I like it or not, no amount of scribbling in my notebook would be able to explain all this to THEM....

RM