Dozy Writes

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I recently took part in an Instagram live conversation with a good friend of mine, Alex Mechanikool. 

He is carrying out a series of discussions about identity and he was keen to talk to me about my experiences growing up in the Scottish Highlands and how that fits in with the wider British identity.

I was very excited to take part because, as anyone who knows me can testify, I like to chat.

It won’t surprise you to know that I was the child whose school reports were littered with comments about my tendency to talk too much.

This puzzled me because surely my parents didn’t need to be told this when they experienced it every day at home?

All of this serves to illustrate that the opportunity to chat with Alex was an appealing prospect for me.

I have been following his conversations for a while and find him to be an inspiring person who has a beautiful way of looking at the world. I was excited to be a part of this.

In the run up to the conversation, I was diligently making notes, thinking about what information would be helpful to include.

In fact, I was so busy focusing on my note taking that it took me a while to realise that I was starting to lose my voice. 

This wasn’t the first time I’d lost my voice so I followed the advice I’d received before and drank hot water with honey and lemon, whilst trying to reduce how much I spoke in an effort to conserve my voice.

Fortunately, my voice held out and we managed the live conversation with very little issues other than me struggling to turn the camera around to my face, meaning the viewers got a lovely view of my broken lamp for the first 30 seconds.

My voice was a bit strained afterwards and I was reminded that I have a tendency to lose my voice.

It’s often the first thing that goes when I start to feel run down or out of sorts.

Two wise monkeys

A very long time ago, I worked in a team that covered reception duties when the main receptionist was off. 

One of my other colleagues was usually first in line to cover the duties but she was suffering from a really bad cold virus that had impacted her hearing.

She asked me if I could help but unfortunately I was also suffering from the same virus which had resulted in me losing my voice.

A couple of farcical days followed where we tried to cover the reception together, answering calls that she couldn’t hear and I couldn’t respond to.

We were a pitiful and incomplete version of the Three Wise Monkeys.

How long?

There have been a number of times since that episode where I’ve lost my voice, the worst of which was in 2018 when I lost my voice for three and a half months.

That’s right. 14 excruciating weeks of being unable to speak properly.

Absolute flipping torture.

It started off with a regular cold virus which went into my chest before attacking my vocal chords.

As the days went on, my voice would start to come back but then something would happen that would place a strain on it and suddenly it would disappear again.

It wasn’t even a sexy, husky voice. Instead I sounded like a cross between Donald Duck and Muttley from the Wacky Races. 

Official diagnosis

Eventually I went to the doctor to see if there were any underlying issues that might be causing it to last so long. 

She questioned me about a number of things including my job and social life before declaring that, when it came to my voice, I was what was described as a “heavy user”.

Essentially she diagnosed me as a chatterbox.

She sent me away with an exceptionally long list of advice which included not whispering because apparently that puts even more strain on the vocal chords.

Instead I had to strike a balance between conserving my voice but still using it enough so that my vocal chords wouldn’t weaken.

This was tricky because my job involved talking to people all day and, working in HR meant that I knew everyone in the organisation.

They were naturally curious to find out how I was but every time I explained my position, it put even more strain on my fragile vocal chords.

I ended up putting a sign up on my desk that read something like:

Hello!

Yes, my voice is still affected which means that I can’t talk right now. 

No, I don’t know how long it will take to recover. 

Yes, it’s really frustrating, especially for me.

Thanks for asking.

Whenever somebody came into my office I would point to the sign and watch their faces in amusement as they read it.

After they finished reading, they always opened their mouth to say something then quickly gulped back their words and closed their mouths tightly as if to show solidarity with me.

A sudden realisation

A couple of months into this situation, I was chatting to a colleague at the tea station who asked me how my voice was recovering.

After I explained, he told me a story about someone he knew who had lost their voice for a long time. It turned out that there was a large psychological element to it and once this person worked through the underlying issues, their voice returned.

Suddenly, lots of thoughts and feelings that I hadn’t been expressing bubbled up to the surface and I finally recognised that perhaps there was a psychological element to my condition as well.

Sure, a virus had started it and there were some other factors that kept it going, but there was no doubt that there were frustrations in my life which were impacting me on a deeper emotional level.

My partner at the time and I were going through a difficult time. We weren’t sure if our relationship was still viable. Or more accurately, he wasn’t sure if he still wanted to be in a relationship because of his personal beliefs.

He was trying to work out what he wanted and in the meantime, I felt powerless and as if my voice didn’t matter.

There were a number of other situations in both my professional and personal life that were also causing frustration. 

I’d love to say that I got straight on the case and told everyone exactly what I thought whilst Aretha Franklin sang ‘Respect’ in the background but in reality it was a slower, and far more delicate process. 

An agonising decision

Conversations took place, I asked people to be patient and listen to me, and decisions were made including the difficult decision that my partner and I would separate.

It was an agonising but important decision to make.

Except we didn’t really separate. 

We stripped everything back in our relationship only to end up building it all back up again.

It turns out that I’m so loveable he couldn’t let me go.

OK, I’m being facetious but there is an element of truth in there.

He was wrestling with a difficult dilemma where he wanted to continue to be with me but he also wanted more of a spiritual life.

A bit more peace and quiet.

Now, I have many incredible qualities but being quiet isn’t one of them. I don’t think there is anyone who has ever met me who would disagree with that.

We had discussed our respective spiritual paths many times before so I could understand what he was feeling and I felt awful that he was in so much pain trying to navigate this situation.

However, I began to realise that I was so busy comforting him and helping him work through his feelings that I was completely neglecting my own.

By not voicing my own frustration and anguish, I lost the power to voice anything.

It was a powerful lesson for me to ensure that I made my voice heard which, believe it or not, is something I don’t always find easy to do.

People often think I’m a straight-talker who is comfortable sharing my feelings about everything.

That’s only partially true.

I do share my feelings but generally only after I’ve moved past the initial hurt. I often feel too vulnerable expressing my emotions at the time they are occurring.

And I’m not always as straight talking as people might imagine. You might be surprised to learn that I do actually have a filter.

Sometimes I don’t say anything because I don’t want to upset another person or come across as cruel.

Sometimes I don’t speak up because I feel intimidated, particularly when it involves men shouting or being aggressive towards me. I often retreat into freeze mode in response which frustrates me greatly.

So now, whenever I lose my voice, I check to see if there are any frustrations in my life that need to be verbalised. 

Chances are, there is something unsaid that I really need to express.

And on that note, please excuse me whilst I go off to have a difficult conversation…

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If you’re interested in learning more about my conversation with Alex Mechanikool you can watch the replay on Instagram.