The Voices in your Head

This post has been percolating in my brain for awhile now.  It is so emotionally charged for me, and those close to me, that I have been putting it off.  However, I think I have reached the point of "better out than in," so I'm writing it.  The good thing about computer screens is they don't leave tear marks.

We all have voices in our heads, whether or not we listen to them.  Kelly will often remark that he was going to do something, but then the voice in his head that sounds like me discouraged him.  During every episode of sliding I have ever heard while driving I hear my Driver's Ed teacher clearly and calmly saying, "Turn into the skid."  To this day, I doubt I could put on heels without hose/nylons because I can very clearly hear my mother's voice reminding me that only young ladies of a certain "repute" wore heels without hose.  She didn't put it quite that delicately, but you get the picture.

When I used to hear my own voice on a recording, I would always say, "That sounds nothing like me!" People have said that my mother, Karina, and I are indistinguishable from one another on the phone. How can that be?  We sound nothing alike. A voice is a part of what identifies you.

In college voice classes, I struggled mightily.  I do not have a good ear for pitches.  I can easily memorize the pitches in a song when they are tied to words.  That is how I learned all the music for services at the synagogue even though I don't know what I am singing.  One professor told me I was an alto, and I tried with all my might to sing those parts.  Sight Singing was a fright, for sure.  When I finally got into Class Voice, the first day Ted Puffer asked me why I was singing the alto part.  He had me come to the piano and put me through a few scales.  He asked me, "Who the hell told you you were an alto?  Sing the soprano part from now on."  Singing became more enjoyable after that.  I even learned to like some of the less melodic SAI songs once I was singing the right part.

Story telling is one of my trademarks.  Some of my friends at Sun Valley joked that I could do a ten minute stand up routine on anything.  Rob Miller said at parties I was instant entertainment, just add alcohol.  (The censor, such as it is, comes off when I drink.  It is hilarious if you aren't my target.) If you haven't heard the banana salad story, you should.

But someone else will have to tell it.

In the movie The Little Mermaid, Ariel questions how she will get Prince Eric to fall love with her if she cannot talk. I no longer underestimate the importance of body language, but I don't think in the way Ursula intended.  How will I make new friends if I can't talk?

All of my old friends have a voice inside their heads that sounds like me.  Several people have told me they hear my voice when they read my blog.  Karina has a voice in her head that sounds like me, but what about Karissa?  She is only eight.  Is this new voice going to be the one she remembers?  Will guidance given with half the letters missing stay with her, or will it really just become mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah like the adults on Peanuts?

Will I become that person that people avoid because they don't understand what I'm saying?  "Oh, don't make me go over and talk to her; I can't understand a thing she says."  Will they always hope, as I know Kelly and I do, that when I open my mouth the old voice will come out?

Back to those imaginary new friends.  I am the friend gatherer for my tribe.  I collect smart people.  How do I continue those duties if I cannot communicate effectively?  Yes, you can understand me if you listen carefully.  I am happy to write things down to help you along.  There is the Dynavox.  But the first strands of friendship are often quite tenuous.  While some survive no matter what you throw at them, others are susceptible early on to any struggle.  Think about it.  What first brought us together?  Would you have been as patient with all my "specialness" if I was a new friend?  Be honest with yourself.  You don't have to tell me, or anyone else, for that matter.

In summation, Nancy, you were right.  I miss talking a lot more than eating.  What I eat does not impact how I interact with others, but my ability to communicate certainly does.  While the smell of fudge is tempting, it is nothing compared to the desire to read my daughter a story, tell Karina a joke, or whisper I love you to my husband.

I wanted to get this over with before Christmas.  There are enough reasons to get all sobby around the holidays without me adding one more.  Love to you all!