Missing: My Voice!

An update from my extremely quiet living room

I haven’t spoken a word in two and a half days.

I woke up Sunday morning and my voice was gone. It didn’t leave a hastily scribbled note on the kitchen counter saying where it went or why it left or if it was ever coming back. It just silently slunk out in the middle of the night like a deadbeat decibel.

I was foolishly optimistic. It probably just walked up to Herkimer to get a cup of coffee or down to the farmer’s market to buy a bouquet of tulips. It would be back real soon. I could wait. I read my new library book on the couch. I ate a chunk of day-old bagel while standing at the counter, schmearing cream cheese on every bite. I drank bottomless mugs of hot mint tea.

But afternoon arrived and my voice was still missing. It was way too soon to put up posters around the neighborhood and definitely too soon to file a report with the police. Let’s try and stay calm, shall we?

I had plans to attend a celebration of life for a friend who passed away six months ago. For half a moment I contemplated not going, thinking of how awkward it would be to attend a large social function without the ability to speak. But I had to go. I really wanted to go. So I went. And I smiled at people and mouthed, “I lost my voice!” while pointing at my throat and making an exaggerated, “Can you believe it???” face. It would have been a lot simpler had I worn a beret, a black and white striped shirt, white gloves, and a painted white face. No one expects a mime to speak.

When I couldn’t take the awkwardness of my silence any longer, or when I saw an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time, I couldn’t help but squeak out a frayed and scrawny whisper; my thin, ragged voice fading in and out like a strobe light. Hearing me speak was like listening to a game of Mad Libs — most of the words were there, but you still had to fill in some of the blanks.

That night I consulted Dr Google about my condition. It said I have laryngitis! An ailment I’ve always associated with 80s sitcom tropes, along with amnesia and bulky, white neck braces worn after car accidents. Dr Google said there wasn’t anything you could take for laryngitis. It would go away on its own. But the only way it would go away is if I stopped speaking. Full stop. Some articles said whispering was even more damaging than regular talking! I was supposed to drink hot tea and gargle with salt water, but mostly I was supposed to shut the frankfurter up!

So here I am, two and a half days into a silent retreat I never signed up for. As you can imagine, this is not ideal for a person who talks for a living! Over the past two days I’ve had two cancel two interviews for the podcast, a radio interview to promote The Nosh, I haven’t been able to record Thursday’s new podcast episode or the voice over for an upcoming TV episode, and I felt awful emailing my favorite local bookstore to tell them I could no longer host an author Q&A that night.

Mama needs her moneymaker back!!

Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of talk about the concept of Mercury in Retrograde. Believers says that during 3, three week periods every year you can expect communication breakdowns, mishaps, misunderstandings and technological issues. I am not a Woman of Woo and don’t subscribe to the concept. But when I overheard a woman on the street telling her friend that we were in a period of Mercury Retrograde (and quickly confirmed it on my phone), I couldn’t help but wonder if this astrological phenomenon had anything to do with my voice packing up and leaving in the middle of the night. I was getting desperate.

Maybe the universe is trying to send me a message about slowing down and getting quiet. Aside from the work snafus, it has been quite relaxing. Or maybe it’s just science: a viral infection I caught from somebody else. Maybe everyone has to lose their voice sooner or later.

I’m off to bed! But I’ll leave the porch light on and a key under the mat in case my voice makes its way back home in the middle of the night.