#69

I can't fathom your secrets.

#68 (30/30 #1)

Seeing my vocal folds for the first time

I sit in the chair

not comfortable and too medical

all false confidence

and all real terror

the doctor is calm

her gold necklace shining in the light

and mauve eye shadow cradling the wrinkles around her eyes

my voice teacher

nervous

tries not to be

a small squirt bottle is inserted into my nostril

sniff

swallow

the taste of kerosene toothpaste running down my throat

I laugh and say it’s lovely

and describe the taste to my teacher

she tells the doctor how excited I must be

a small camera

the size of a pen tip

on the end of a spaghetti noodle wire

is gently prodded into my right nostril by the doctor

she is calm

and I pretend to be

and my teacher pretends to be

she laces it through my nose and it gets stuck

I feel it like a welcomed unwelcome guest

slithering through my caverns

tickling my hairs

and it comes out

the doctor smiles and unlaces the wire

its rubber rough against the skin

and tries again in my left nostril

the rubbing continues and we are through

pathways that connect in some secret way

and I can feel this eye

in the back of my throat

like a convulsion

or a tear

I had been holding in

but I am calm

the doctor turns the lights on

and I look at the tv screen over her shoulder

while she looks at the screen over mine

and there they are

my loves. 

#67

Darling, the way you work is so freaking cool.

#66

Hope is nice.

#65

All work and no play isn't very much fun.

#64

Baby steps.

#63

You know my subtleties better than I do. Thank you for showing them to me.

#62

Sometimes I feel like I would need 50 hours a day to give you all of the love and attention you need.

#61

Today I'm thankful that I have the ability to get you help, even though this week I've wished this would all stop.

#60

When I only look for you, what am I missing?

#59

I just wish more people understood us and that everyone's patience was infinite.

#58

I am tired of us not being enough.
I am tired of hurting.
I am tired of needing help.
I am tired of knowing no one can help us.
I am tired of people expecting us to be better already.
I am tired of people rushing us to be better already.
I am tired of having to believe we will get better.
I am tired of not knowing when we will get better.
I am tired of not knowing if we will get better.
I am tired of being a cautionary tale.
I am tired of being a resurrection narrative.
I am tired of this pain being inspiring.
I am tired of this pain.
I am tired of being tired.

#57

We're both doing our best.

#56

Sometimes I forget how utterly confused by us others are.

#55

Good run. Thank you.

#54

You are beautiful, resilient, clever, powerful, patient, and honest. The complete package and I am so lucky.

#53

You've done a great job this week. Congratulations, darling.

#52

Few things piss me off more than when someone who doesn't know what they're talking about tries to tell me how to use you.

#51

The only thing I know I'm good at is being nice. I'm sorry that doesn't always carry over to us.

#50

Without you I'm not sure what I'm good at anymore.

#49

First mtd, then allergies, then hormones, and now a cold. You are a warrior.

#48

I love you more than chocolate.

#47

You've been gone for one year now. Show me how to get you back.

#46

If I don't use you you don't hurt, but I'm afraid that if I don't use you I'll lose you.

#45

Darling, I've pushed you too far. Let's take a couple steps back. Like a tango or whatever.

#44

Darling, you're even beautiful when you're sick.

#43

You make me feel things and that's no small achievement.

#42

You are my commitment and I love you.

#41

I miss how you always used to fit right. Without you I write poems with confusing Halloween metaphors. I’m tired. Baby, please come back.

#40

The allergies have returned. No end in sight. We'll get through this together.

#39

How are you today? Sorry I didn't pay much attention to you.

#38

Darling, I have problems trusting you... but that's more my problem than yours.

#37

Darling, do you hate allergies as much as I do? OMG WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON.

#36

Darling, without you I don't feel comfortable in my own skin. But what else is new?

#35

Darling, no more calling you terrible. No more calling the things that help you stupid. Only love. I promise.

#34

Darling, I don't know how to shop for you anymore. Will anything ever fit right again?

#33

I'm just so terrified that I'll never get you back.

#32

Darling, keep teaching me how to trust my Love.

#31

You get mad at me for having fun alone, but I never have more fun than when we do it together. Get well soon.

#30

You are me, and I'm having a hard time loving both of us right now.

#29

Love is patient, but I am not. I'm trying.

#28

Darling, you are the most interesting character I know, and that's saying something.

#27

I'll try letting you speak instead of forcing you to speak from now on.
Things hurt less when we do it that way.

#26

You're good.

#25

Since you left
I've had to fall in love with my sense of humor.
But if you come back
we can have a menage a trois.

#24

The reason I haven't been writing love letters to you
is that I've been too busy writing things about you.

#23

Today was the first time someone's called you beautiful in weeks.
Maybe I just need to spend more time around people who understand you.

#22

Darling, you've turned me into a cynic.
And I'm tired of people telling me things I didn't know but should have known about my body.
And I miss you.
And without you I feel hopeless.
And I love you.
Please, Love, let something work soon.

I thank you, Lord God, for all my pains.
If it pleases You, Lord, increase them a hundredfold.
I shall thankfully accept whatever sorrow You give, not sparing me;
for in the fulfillment of Your will I find my greatest solace.
-St. Francis of Assisi

#21

Trusting you used to be easy.
I'm sorry that I took you for granted.

#20

I can't tell who singing hurts more: you or me.
I can't tell what's wrong right now: allergies or cold.
I can't tell if I actually know what I'm talking about.
Sometimes I wonder if loving you is just a habit
you're trying to make me break.

#19

Darling,
Thank you for leading me by leaving me.
I'd like it if we could hold hands for a while now.

#18

Darling,
I'm still learning about when I should use you and when I should let you rest.

#17

Sometimes I wish the rest of the voices would just be quiet for a little while.

A poem I wrote on a pastry bag

This banana bread
in my head
not made of lead
with this I was fed.

#16

I trust you.

#15

Why am I so worried about getting love from other people
when all I really need is love
from you
and our God?

#14

When you sing, you pray twice.
I can't wait until we're able to pray
one million trillion times a day.

#13

Some days
you don't hurt.
Thank God.

#12

Today someone asked
if you still make me happy.
I told them no,
but I also learned today
that children don't make us happy,
even though we think that they do.
I promise to care for you as if you were my child.

Let's pray that, like being thirteen, this too shall pass.

#11

I'm still not used to you being so delicate.

#10

If my heart is only metaphorically broken,
then why is it still racing?

#9

You matter.

So, what are all of these numbers about?

I've started writing love letters.
To my voice.

You see, as much as I involve myself in any other activity, the way my throat feels is always one of the dominant thoughts in my mind. That tends to happen when speaking about other things (which should be a distraction) is painful enough to draw attention to the very thing that you might want to set aside for a while.

So I can't ignore my voice, even if I wanted to... which I really don't.

But the thing is, I need these reminders of why I even bother to keep going against the pain and setbacks and frustrations.

I need the reminders of why I love this part of me so much.

I need these reminders of why other people love this part of me so much.

So, from now on, I'm going to try my best to write one love letter/poem to my voice per day... which really means that I'm using my inner voice to communicate with my outer voice. Deep stuff, huh?

I can't promise that I'll be able to do this daily. I'm a college student after all. I can guarantee, however, that these letters will be almost as much about me and my life as they are about my voice, because we're all really intertwined right now and probably always will be.

I'm not going to advertise these letters on facebook unless I think they're particularly important, but you can go ahead and put your email address in the follow by email box on the right side of the screen to get updates whenever I post something new.

#8

Sometimes I wonder why Beethoven understands us so well.
Maybe because he was deaf
and without you I am mute.

#7

My darling,
I'm so glad that both of us are alive.
Let's stay that way.

#6

You sure are an expensive lady to be in love with.

#5

Darling, I just wish I knew how to fix you.
Why were you so scratchy and low today?
Did that hard lemonade hurt you?
If it did, I'm sorry,
because it sure tasted good.

#4

Darling,
I thought we were getting better,
but you tell me we're not.
I'm sorry that the place I love the most
is maybe the place that hurts you the most.

#3

Darling,
Today you reminded me
just how brilliant you are.
You can mold yourself to shapes I've only imagined
and follow cadences you've never marched to.
I love you for that.
I'm just so sorry that our play has become painful.
Remember when it was only fun?

#2

Today the doctor told me

that I’ve been swallowing wrong this whole time.

I’ll relearn,

but I wonder if this is why life without you

has been so hard to swallow.

(From April 2014)

#1

This time last year I was crying over a boy.

This time I’m crying over you.

It’s pretty much the same except the boy was easier to get over.

Darling, I beg you, please come back.

(From April 2014)

MTD Thoughts #1

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

When we've been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

On being a singer who is unable to sing

            One time on facebook a friend of mine asked her friends what object we thought best exemplified our souls. Or our lives. Or maybe she just asked what our favorite objects were… Honestly, I don’t remember exactly what the question was. But my answer was “voice box.” For those of you who know me, you will hardly find that surprising. I love words and music and almost anything that the voice has the capability to do. When I was little I would read stories with different voices because I was so fascinated by accents. To this day I have to refrain myself from interrogating people I’ve just met about their linguistic backgrounds, because most people would get freaked out by me going “OH MY GOSH SAY THAT WORD AGAIN YOU SAY ____ IN THIS WAY, WHICH IS SO COOL.” I love studying language because it is so infinite. My favorite Bible verse is John 1:1 “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” There are all sorts of cool theological interpretations of this- go look them up, but the reason that I love it so much is that Words=God. So by studying linguistics (in my view), I’m studying God in all of God’s complex, hard to decipher infiniteness. How cool is that?! Also, have you seen a video of vocal folds? So tiny yet so so so powerful.

            But more than any of that, the reason I answered with “voice box” is because I’m a singer. Singing and music are how I express myself. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to sing since September, and for a long time I didn’t know why. Singing all of a sudden became painful. I would get tired after singing for only a few minutes.

            On October 24^th I was diagnosed with muscle tension dysphonia. What this means, essentially, is that the muscles around my vocal tract work too hard and work ineffectively. So, the more I use my voice, the tighter my muscles get and the more pain I’m in. Fun, huh? I even got this snazzy little camera stuck through my nose and into my throat. So now I have an awesome and only slightly embarrassing video of my very own voice box in action. So at least that’s something.

            Muscle tension dysphonia is apparently one of the most common voice disorders. My vocal folds are completely healthy and I am told (and have to have faith) that this is curable. So I’m currently in voice therapy.

            And I’m so, so lucky to have the privilege to be able to get this taken care of, but it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Not being able to sing really, really sucks.

1) I have to do voice therapy exercises that make me sound like a dying cow (sorry, all of my family and everyone in the general area of the JWall practice rooms).

2) I never know when my voice will or will not fail me.

3) I’ve had to push off so many deadlines and take so many incompletes for voice lessons.

4) I never know when I’m going to be in pain next.

5) I have to sit around with ice packs and heat packs wrapped around my throat to ease the pain.

6) I won’t be able to do my community theatre’s 24 hour musical they’re doing next week because I can barely sing for 24 minutes let alone 24 hours.

7) I’m not able to perform in my student theatre group’s musical we’re doing this semester.

8) I had to withdraw from choir this week. The choir I have wanted to be in ever since the day I first visited Macalester. I’ve been trying to ease my way into singing again, but every time I do I can’t sing for days after the fact. There’s something about choral singing.

9) I am so, so tired of being near tears about this.

But, as much as this sucks, and boy does it suck, I am so, so lucky to be surrounded with so much love.

1) When I was home over winter break and had to make my dying cow noises, no one complained once, even though our house is really small and is chaotic as it is.

2) Although my voice more often than not doesn’t work, there are days when I can sing and there is no better feeling in the world.

3) I’m in a department that is supportive and patient and has let me do what I have needed to do for my health. This wouldn’t be true everywhere.

4) Even though I’m usually in pain, sometimes I’m not.

5) Heat packs actually feel really freaking good wrapped around your neck. Just saying. Plus, it’s cold in Minnesota right now, so added heat is always nice. Also, what a fashion statement to walk around with one wrapped around your neck, am I right?

6) I’ll hopefully at least be home and able to watch the 24 hour musical. We’ll see.

7) I’ve been getting a lot of great producing experience through getting this musical project off the ground, even though I won’t be performing.

8) Sitting in choir practice not being able to sing has forced me to be a really good musical listener. Also, since I won’t be going on tour with them over spring break, I get a few more days to snuggle with my cats at home.

9) Have I been crying a lot? Yes. More than I would like to. But I have a voice teacher who is incredibly supportive and who has faith that things are going to get better and that the Universe is trying to tell us something even when I’m at my most cynical. I have a great voice therapist who is doing everything she can to help me. I have wonderful parents who have somehow found the way to help me with these really expensive therapy sessions and who understand that singing is a necessity for me. When I withdrew from choir my director told me that they would welcome me back whenever I was ready. My acting teacher had the whole class give me a hug when he saw how not okay I was. This disorder has caused me to consider careers that I had never even thought of before. I am surrounded by friends who have put up with how distracted I have been and how much of a mess I have been. I am loved by a God who is teaching me to be patient and trusting and who I believe is somehow suffering alongside me through this. I don’t talk about this a lot, but at times this is all that is holding me together.

This is hard. I grow more frustrated by the day. I can’t wait for the day that I will be able to sing again without pain. But until then, I am so grateful for all of the people who have been taking care of me. Thank you if this has been you.

           

Persona Poem

This month I've been taking part in a 10/10, where I'm supposed to write 10 poems in 10 days. Prompts have been posted on my school's poetry slam page. I've been cheating and doing the prompts out of order and not on the days they've been posted, but whatever. Here's a prompt that I was particularly nervous about, but had a lot of fun with:

PROMPT #8: This prompt requires a little research! I think that New Year's time can be very wistful and full of bittersweetness. Or else it's just an arbitrary marker of time. You know, either or. There are OODLES Facebook statuses with summaries about the 2013 year. PICK ONE. It can be a stranger, it can be yourself, it can be mine, whatever. Pick someone's (probably too long and indulgent) 2013 New Year's status and write a persona poem from one of the events. Try to make it funny and wild and exciting! (Don't worry about whether or not you're actually funny, just try to be). Test out funny voices to read it in. Make up words like Dr. Seuss. Add dramatic pauses. Fling rainbow dust across the span of the universe. Make this event seem like the coolest, most entertaining event that ever happened.

For some reason, I'm friends with like 5 million people who got engaged this year, so my newsfeed had all sorts of "2013 WAS THE YEAR I GOT ENGAGED" statuses. That served as the starting point for this persona poem, which is completely fictitious and not actually about anyone I know or anything I've experienced.

We met each other in our freshman year music theory class.

I was a beautiful angel of dominant seven chords,

He was a pretentious douchebag.

The first time we talked was at a party.

You know, one of the ones your first week of college,

Where nobody has ever had alcohol before,

So everyone is puking in everyone else’s faces?

Mmm yeah. Romance.

Love smells like partially digested pizza from Little Caesar’s.

Everyone is a little different when drunk,

But at the time I thought that everyone was the same kind of drunk: freaking annoying.

I went to the party to pick up my roommate who was passed out on a thrift store love seat.

As I woke her up and let her lean on my shoulder, ready for the long trek back to our dorm room, she vomited all over my sweatshirt. The sweatshirt I didn’t even like. The sweatshirt I wore specifically because I knew she would vomit on it.

What a sweet girl.

Like I said, nothing smells like love like vomit does, which I guess is why he came over to help me take her back to our room.

Everyone is a little different when drunk.

He was the type that rambled about Wagner, Foucault, and Freud.

All the way back to my dorm room where we dropped my roommate off.

All the way to the lounge where I had been doing my homework.

All the way to 2:00 when he finally fell asleep and I could finish my music theory homework in peace.

He was the most pathetic 18 year old drunk philosopher I had ever met, and that made me love him.

I realized that I had been spending too much time searching for a love that smelled like roses and chocolate.

A love too sweet to be of any substance.

And here I had love in the form of an inebriated 18 year old misquoting Europeans into a puddle of his own bile.

This love was gross. It smelled bad. It was too human.

But it stuck.

The first time we kissed was after figuring out how to spell Neapolitan 6^th chords.

He had mellowed to the point that he stopped trying to show off his smarts around me.

He wasn’t as pretentious as he once was. But he was 5 million times more awkward.

When we kissed our teeth knocked.

Our love smelled like the gross fake Chinese food we had just eaten in the cafeteria.

When he asked me to marry him it was cold, grey, pouring rain, and muddy.

The forecast had been for 75 degree sunny weather, my favorite.

He had intended to have a bunch of people come and sing some stupid pop song from the radio,

But everyone was sick with the swine flu or something.

It was just me and him and the rain and the homeless guy passed out on the park bench.

“You’d better have a good reason for making me come outside in this, idiot,” I shivered.

As he got down on one knee he slipped in the mud and the ring he had been saving up for for months flew out of his hands into a puddle.

Embarrassed, my vomit- smelling, teeth-knocking, Foucault-quoting idiot sat in the mud, covered head to toe, sitting cross-legged. He smiled nervously.

I went and picked the ring out of the polluted water and sat down next to him.

“Yes.”