Phase 4: Acceptance

When the fog lifted I made a few changes immediately while others took a little time to gel. For one, I started exercising regularly. I'm one of those people who could never quite find going to the gym all that fulfilling. As a kid I was a swimmer and after the age of 13 I kept swimming and started dancing pretty regularly (in musicals). After that I was in college with 9 hours worth of dance classes per week. Suffice it to say I never had to seek out exercise, it always just came with the program. After college I simply forgot to take care of my body. I had this misconception that going to the gym meant I was vain or, even worse, superficial, and I certainly didn't want to be pegged as either of those terrible things. Several years ago I began to realize how incredibly silly that was and started attempting exercise regimens. I'd go religiously for a couple weeks but then it would taper off into nothing. I didn't know how to work out and I felt like an ass hole standing in the middle of the gym, surrounded by people who clearly knew what they were doing while I tried to figure out where to begin. I even hired a personal trainer and told them my goal was to be able to work out on my own but nothing ever stuck. Oh well, I figured, I worked in the restaurant business and was on my feet ALL day and (sometimes) ALL night. "Exercise" was built in to my lifestyle so I guess I didn't need that stupid old gym anyway. (Yeah, I can be an idiot sometimes.)

Well, I may have given up on the exercise, but I never gave up my gym membership so, thousands of unnecessary dollars later, I was able to pick up right where I left off. I also started going to yoga regularly which is oh-so-awesome and I feel stronger with each class (I discovered Anusara, which I recommend to all who are interested in yoga but have never been able to stick to a practice). I know now that exercising isn't some admission of vanity or means to impress others (necessarily), but rather a tremendously rewarding way to take care of myself, increase the flow of energy and release tension. Golly gee, I sure wish it hadn't taken me so long to figure that out. Everything in its time, I suppose.

Speaking of "everything in its time," my voice teacher had been talking for months about raising the pitch of my speaking voice but I fought it for fear of losing my identity and all those things that came with my voice (depth of character, wit, etc...). The evening of the "good-bye, old voice" ritual I went to rehearsal and began to accept that it was time to stop fighting.

Because I was saving as much of my voice as possible, taking it easy and conserving when I could, I spent much of the rehearsal in silence. No jibber jabber before-hand, only opening my mouth when I had to deliver a line or when asked a direct question. Silence is amazing because it really allows (or forces) you to listen. Sitting there, listening to people talk with no regard for their vocal chords was enlightening. One woman had a voice so loud I (hopefully imperceptibly) jumped every time she started talking. Was my voice like that? I could certainly afford to lose some volume, not to mention the glottal attacks and extreme force with which she began each sentence (I know I'm guilty of that too). As we went through the script I listened to the way certain people used their voices to convey emotion. Everything was just loud loud loud. People were conveying power and anger and adamance by increasing their volume and I started to realize that there was a different choice: intensity. It occurred to me that I would actually have more depth of character (one of the things I feared losing along with my old voice) when I was forced to make certain choices in order to be kind to my vocal chords. I realized in that moment that I didn't need to be loud to be heard, that in order to be witty or awe-inspiring or any of those things I thought my old voice represented, I didn't have to abuse my voice to achieve them. After the recovery I would have a bigger range and more control of my voice. Oh yeah, this was a good thing that I was going through. It was going to GIVE me depth of character, not take it away.

I had spent well over a month dreading the recovery process, frightened by the prospect of such a colossal life change. Now I was excited. I would get to spend a month (and beyond) being a casual observer, taking part in conversations and events as a listener instead of a talker. That would be awesome. Challenging, yes, but I was finally convinced that great things would come of it including, but not limited to, a new voice, a new outlook on life, a new healthy lifestyle, a new appreciation for silent contemplation, the ability to choose my words wisely, the gift of being concise, (and as I said in the last post) inspiration in the form of a solo show, perhaps, or a new song (hell, maybe a whole album), or a script of some kind. The possibilities suddenly seemed endless. Go-Go-Gadget Re-Invention Device, I's-a-ready!

A few days later I had my session with the psychic and I can't even begin to write about the discoveries that ensued (well, not until the next post, anyway)! Creatures from the corners of my subconscious began to creep forward. Some of them gently nudged me, knowing I was finally paying attention.