Earlier this week, I lost my voice. And I don’t mean in the metaphorical “finding my truth” kind of way. I mean literally. Every attempt at speech sounded like a rusty lawn mower trying to start on a cold morning. Listening to me attempt conversation was painful for everyone involved.
It started after a few days of what was otherwise a pretty mild cold. I honestly didn’t even feel that sick. But somewhere between Sunday and Monday, my vocal cords decided they had officially had enough and simply quit. In fairness, singing karaoke on a boat Sunday afternoon may have contributed to the situation. If you happened to be out on Clear Lake and heard strange croaking noises drifting across the water, that was just me attempting to sing. My apologies.
It’s been a long time since I lost my voice this badly. The last memorable incident happened in high school at exactly the worst possible time. I had finally made jazz choir, which felt fairly prestigious considering auditions were required. Jazz choir got to sing the fun songs, do some light choreography and take exciting trips. The big one was performing at the Mall of America. Naturally, right before the trip, I lost my voice almost completely. I couldn’t squeeze out a single usable note. I was devastated. Thankfully, they still let me go because an awkward empty space on stage, and one male singer standing there without a partner, would have looked strange.
Back in the present day, my children have been both confused and fascinated by the situation.
“Mom, what’s wrong with your voice?”
“Mom, why do you sound like that?”
They seemed genuinely skeptical that I physically could not talk. Strangely enough, though, they did not seem to miss the constant stream of instructions, reminders and questions that normally follows them through the house.
After a few days of barely speaking, I began considering the unexpected pros and cons of losing my voice.
Benefits:
• More quiet time. In theory, this should mean more reading and peaceful reflection. In reality, I mostly just stared silently at the little messes around my house.
• Greater appreciation for nature. Without talking, you really do notice birds singing, the wind blowing and all the little sounds around you.
• More focused writing time. Since I couldn’t chat much, I spent more time quietly thinking.
• Extra cuddles from the kids. Apparently when Mom isn’t issuing reminders every 45 seconds, she becomes much more pleasant to sit next to.
• My husband probably enjoyed the reduced level of “gentle suggestions” throughout the day.
Drawbacks:
• My brief karaoke career has been put on hold indefinitely.
• I could no longer yell at the birds who continue to maliciously target my black vehicle. They knew I was defenseless.
• I discovered just how much I rely on talk-to-text to write. Turns out croaking into my phone does not produce quality journalism.
• The house has descended into chaos because my usual “mom voice” enforcement system has been severely weakened.
• It is surprisingly difficult to deliver 400 daily reminders when you sound like a whispering frog.
At this point, I do hope my voice returns soon so I can continue keeping my family (and perhaps society in general) properly organized. But I will admit, there has been something oddly peaceful about the forced quiet. Sometimes losing your voice reminds you just how much noise you contribute to the world every day.
Still, I’d like it back before the next karaoke opportunity presents itself.
