This past Sunday, among the chaos in the theatre, something went missing: my voice. It was my first time so I entered into this new strange world without any experience. I’m sure you’ve heard a car try to start but kinda just putter out along the way. That’s essentially what happened. The worst part was trying to call cues and only hear a small “hiss” fall out of your throat. It was a great time.
That Monday was pretty interesting. With the inability to communicate past hand signals, I was kicking myself for taking 5 years of french while I could have learned plenty of ASL. A second thing was how no one wanted to talk to me because it was like talking to a brick wall. With Arms. I tried to push my voice to even make a whimper in order to try and get someone to notice me. I couldn’t even sadly sing “All by myself”! Now that’s sad. By Tuesday, my idiotic trying to get my voice to work when it obviously wasn’t going to work had left it mugged, beaten, and dropped off in a deserted plot of land. Whatever semblance of voice had raged war on my throat and I was left to playing charades with my teachers.
I guess what I’ve come to appreciate is how easy it is for me to communicate with the people around me. For many, it’s a daily struggle to talk whether it’s because they are deaf or mute. And while I’m extremely grateful that my voice is slowly returning, I’ve learned to be grateful for the little things.