That's the thought that always occurs to me when I crest Eastern Parkway this morning. The trees arching up over the stones, the sun shines a golden hue...I help a Mom carry her stroller down the subway steps at Nostrand Ave, and her son, inside the stroller, giggles at up at me and says, "Amor, amor!"
I live in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. I'm an actress and a singer, sometime saxophonist/guitarist, and Mexican Street Slanger. I work as a receptionist, Spanish tutor, and babysitter to make ends meet.
And I'm not talking for a month.
Why am I writing this blog? So that I don't end up drivin' me nuts! (as the pirate said about the steering wheel in his pants).
Seriously. I started losing my voice..ALL THE TIME. It hurts to talk. All the time. And I feel CRAZY in my brain, trying to FIGURE IT OUT. All. The. Time.
My brain works FAR too hard, (all the time), and I figure if I could get some of it out on paper, maybe it will ease some of the crazy carnival in there. *Cue clown car/ jalopy theme music.*
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| Scumbag Brain is allllways workin'. |
When I first moved to Brooklyn about 5 years ago, I periodically lost my voice. But I figured it only added to my "sexy jazz voice" sound (hey, it worked for Adele and Joss Stone!).
And then, a few months ago, I started to lose the ability to speak in certain ranges. Completely. Like, I would go to squeal with surprise or delight, and no noise would come out. Scary. But- not enough to make me seek help. I figured I could do it on my own. Plus, I was broke and scared- I knew surgery was the usual treatment for vocal nodes, and I couldn't afford that with no insurance.
So, I tried to stop drinking and yelling in Brooklyn, which I deemed to be the biggest cause of my troubles/ vocal loss. And I DID stop....for mayyybe two weeks at a time. But then, my voice would return a little bit, and I'd celebrate! By going out to happy hour!! Duh, I deserved it for not drinking for so long, right? My voice was back! Heeeyyyy Brooklyn.... Time to PARRRRRTAYYY!!
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| Damn you, Jack Daniels! I don't know how to quit you... |
Except then I would lose my voice...again. For someone who makes a living expressing themselves vocally, this was EXTREMELY frustrating. Okay, okay, I was crying in the shower. I was still going to auditions, but being so hoarse my voice would stop working- while doing Shakespeare. Never mind singing. I wouldn't even bother submitting for those auditions.
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In fact, I was supposed to go to an audition in Philadelphia this past Monday- a paid Equity gig that I was lucky (as a non-union actor) to get an audition for. I took the day off work. I had my bus ticket booked. But something just... sortof...broke, inside me. Maybe that was my chance for paid work, maybe I would have booked it, got my Equity card. Maybe not. But either way- I couldn't speak. I sounded like an old lady- after smoking 3 packs a day... for 40 years.
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| What my voice sounded like. |
So I didn't go to Philly.
Instead, I went to my former voice teacher, Andrea Haring, (a certified Linklater instructor), to beg for help. I was miserable. (This was a crying-in-the-shower morning.) I could barely talk. It was raining. And Andrea told me I had probably had polyps.
Basically, polyps are swollen masses that occur on your vocal chords from overuse. They prevent your vocal chords from closing all the way. When you speak normally, your vocals chords must come together..kinda like two sails, flapping together in the wind. The breath moving through these two chords as they come together creates a vibration. This vibration is called "sound". When a polyp forms, the vocal chords are unable to come together to vibrate normally, and the breath can't get through to make sound. This is what was happening to me.
Polyps look like this, typically (Look away if easily grossed out, kids.):
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| Ew! Those white strips are the vocal chords, and that red bump is a polyp. |
(If you're really curious, and wanna see more gross pictures of the vocal chords with polyps, check here: http://www.voicemedicine.com/polyp.htm)
Of course, Andrea is not an ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor, or Otolaryngologist). I have to admit, I'm still too broke, and chicken to go to one of those (and to have pitcures taken of my chords, specifically, and be diagnosed by a doctor). But Andrea's been teaching Linklater Technique for many years, and she knows my voice voice...really well.
The good news is: polyps can heal without surgery! But you need to take time, dedication, and REST.
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| What's that word? I'm not familiar. Rest, you say? |
So I'm on vocal rest for a month. This is part of a treatment program, where hopefully I will NOT have to get surgery.
Annnnd it's Day 2 of No Talking.
Okay, full disclosure: I'm still talking, a little. I don't pick up my cell phone, but I answer the phones at work, and say what I need to say to people to, you know, buy mangos. It's tough to judge what is vital to say, and what isn't. But it's kindof amazing how much you use your voice on a typical day. And hot DAMN do I still want to talk to people allllll the time!
I've cut out caffeine and alcohol (cofeeeeee I miss youuuuu). And I'm doing vocal exercises that a friend who suffered nodes (Pearl Thomas, you are a Godsend) was wonderful enough to teach me. She healed herself, without surgery, which gives me hope that I can do the same. And I'm carrying around a little notebook filled with Post-its, and try to scribble down my thoughts to communicate with people.
So yeah. It's hard.
BUTT (ha!), coming back to Crown Heights, Brooklyn...where I started the sunny morning today. My neighborhood is a place filled with friends, booze, bagels, sunlight, Jamaicans, Jews, Young "Artsy" Gentrifiers, yoga mats, rats, funny smells, trees, graffiti, trash, and murals... and giggling babies who remind you to Love.
And, as I realized this morning, living in Brooklyn is NOT the cause of my vocal problems. My overactive brain, triple-booked schedule, and maybe my need to be seen as a party person, are the root of all this nonsense.
Brooklyn, on the other hand, is a place to rest, and to love your life. And to make space, and time for whatever comes next.
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| Biggie got it right. |
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