The doors to our inner and outer worlds

I lost my voice this weekend. It was the first time in my life that I’d completely lost my voice. Yes, I’ve experienced sore throats and croaky responses. Yet my voice this weekend presented so pallid a volume that virtually no sound came out of my mouth even when my throat contracted with the equivalent power used to produce a scream. When I woke up on Saturday morning, my throat felt different. It lacked lacked tension and felt more like an open tunnel. As I warmed into the morning, my voice returned ever so slightly…even to get me through Saturday. Yesterday (Sunday), I struggled to even whisper. Thankfully, I’m slowly recovering.

I didn’t realize how powerful my voice was until I lost it. I suppose one can make that argument for just about anything. However, it wasn’t until I lost my voice that I realized how often I use it. Having to cherry pick what to say and filter out things that weren’t importance proved a struggle. Dinner last night with my family was quiet. I couldn’t contribute much to the conversation, which helped me realize how much vacancy my voice fills in conversations with others. Perhaps in the presence of others, I also tend to occupy a large portion of conversation time, something I must strive to be more aware of. In losing my voice, I gained awareness of my talkativity.

Yesterday, when I attended a Mock Admissions activity, I had many ideas and questions that I wanted to share. When I raised my hand to speak, my voice croaked out a winded response, detracting from what I’d intended to convey. With my voice gone, replaced by whispers and short, tiresomely forced out responses, the things I said lost persuasiveness, confidence, and emotion. One’s voice can express so vast an array of emotions that only when one loses this power can they fully grasp its heft. 

I’ve known the importance of my voice in my past, but it wasn’t until this past weekend in my 16 years of life that I’d actually completely lost my voice. In the past, I’d protected my voice before I gave speeches or presentations. I would drink lots of water before going on stage, not eat anything salty, spicy, or too sweet before to protect my vocal chords, tricks my singer friend shared with me. I strive to do a more thorough job, as I almost cried in the shower last night thinking back to being unable to self-advocate for simple things such as what I wanted to eat for dinner. I realize how our voices are not just for self-advocacy though; they enable us to collaborate, advocate for others, and stand up when things aren’t right and our voices serve as links to the greater society.  When I lost my voice, I could no longer talk with a stressed friend in the dorm, I had to take a more convoluted path to answer someone’s question about where to find Italian restaurants in Boston, and phone calls were completely out of the question. 

A voice can mean different things for an individual. For some, it’s their life. Singers and artists are a great example. For others, they use it as a means to expedite what they do. Motivational speakers or teachers. It’s the direct platform that enables us to contribute to society while advocating for ourselves. Our voices represent the doors to both our inner and outer worlds.