15 February 2010

Senza Voce

Few things have been more isolating than waking up this morning with the inability to speak. After cheering my team on all weekend, I completely lost my voice. I can whisper, but barely audibly so. When I try to speak in a normal voice, nothing happens. No sound comes out. It's really strange. Before today, I would have said that I've lost my voice a few times in my life. But those times, it was never completely gone. I could still communicate with people, words came through and I didn't have to tap someone sitting right next to me on the shoulder to get their attention.

My voice, I realize, has provided me with much of my primary means of connecting with people. Without it, today, I felt really isolated not just because I couldn't speak to anyone, but because no one was really speaking to me, knowing that I wouldn't be able to respond.

When I was on the field, I found it to be equally strange no having a voice. I couldn't call for the disc, instead I was clapping to get the thrower's attention. I couldn't make play calls, I couldn't count a stall or yell out a mark or let my teammates know when the disc was up.

I've felt trapped in my mind all day, unable to release any sort of communication without it being either painful or complicated. I felt like a shadow at some moments, like I was observing everything going on but I wasn't actually there. In truth, there were some very gracious people who didn't let my lack of voice affect my interactions with them, but on a macro social level (which, let's face it, a frisbee tournament - especially here - is nothing but macro social) it was debilitating. I have a definitely appreciation now for people who lose the ability to speak. I'm sure I would adapt, but honestly, I can't imagine going through life this way.

I wanted to pick up the phone and call J - I couldn't.
I was in the store and wanted to ask where the cough drops were - I couldn't.
I wanted to go to my feminist theology group and discuss our topics for tonight - I couldn't.

Sure I could listen. I could write down my thoughts, etc. But it's not the same. It's a whole different level of engaging with others, and it's strange.

2 comments:

Mom said...

Oh, No! You come from a long line of "Talkers". Hope this won't last too long!

Becky said...

It's funny that people are starting to whisper back to me instead of just speaking in their normal voices.