As I approach day 10 of this cold, I occasionally panic and considered what life would be like without a voice. Not in a political sense--surprising this season!- but a literal voice. I haven't lost my voice completely, but it's been very painful to speak, and attempts at remote tutoring have always been followed by hacking and greater pain. The voice is something so fundamental to most human interaction, and to most jobs. I know my voice will recover, but it's given me pause.
What would I do for a living? I suppose my writing skills might be good enough to be of some use to someone. Toastmasters skills would not disappear completely -- there's still something to be salvaged from the confidence to appear in public, even if not to speak.
How would my sense of humor survive? I'm not particularly gifted in that regard, but I know that what passes for charm on my end is rooted in humor.
How empathetic would I seem, or be? When I apply myself, I can be an excellent listener. But how would my conversation partner feel about a lack of audial feedback, even if he or she understood I couldn't speak?
I don't particularly like my voice. It is not a voice to inspire love, or authority, or loyalty. A frank acquaintance in college decidedly pronounced it "unsexy", and I have to agree with her. And I've always found it easier to write than to speak, whether due to shyness, or just an affinity for writing (rather than a disability when it came to speech).
And yet it is mine. I remember people growing up who had more serious speech issues, requiring therapy, or surgery. I know that from my speech parents make a snap decision as to my competence, my intelligence, my trustworthiness, in a way that written words would never be able to communicate.
When I die, people won't read through my blog posts, though that will be what remains. Instead they will remember vague outlines of the person I was, the time spent with me, and yes, my voice.
It has been expensive to pretty much lose my power of speech this week. It has been painful. But it has also been informative. Putting aside my health at the moment, without good conversation, I don't feel I have much to offer. I know what it was to be shy and somewhat quiet, and I hated it enough to reject it for the tendency to talk too much.
This hopefully ephemeral disability will hopefully make me more permanently humble, more empathetic to those, who for reasons of shyness, anxiety, impediment, medical or social reasons, find themselves prejudged and limited by their voice.
I'm sorry I judged you, and thought in judging you by this metric I was somehow superior to those who judged you by your physical attractiveness, or race, or clothes.
