From as far back as I can remember I loved to sing.
At eight years old I started taking piano lessons and, once I could play well
enough, I accompanied myself. Fortunately, even when I lost my normal speech, I
could still sing. I continued to work on both mediums for decades, got my
Bachelor’s degree in music and, ironically, became a professional singer.
However, because I basically had no useable speaking voice, music was more than
something I loved and studied. It fulfilled me within, gave me the outward
ability to offer something I found beautiful and, most importantly, provided a
way to express myself.
In my thirties, while I was singing in the San
Francisco Opera Chorus, I began to study Flamenco. At first I learned to dance
different Flamenco forms and a few years later I studied how to sing them. As I
became more passionate about it, I stopped my classical singing and devoted
myself to Flamenco. I went on to perform locally as a Flamenco singer/dancer
for close to fifteen years. During this time I went back and forth to Spain to
study, visit, and I wound up living there for a short while too. I made friends
for life and have fond memories that will last forever. The entire experience
was exhilarating but the most engaging element was the creative process. It
gave other parts of me a means to convey something my broken speech never
could.
I stopped performing Flamenco when I was forty-eight.
My speech problem remained undiagnosed but I could feel that my singing voice
was diminishing. I noticed that my volume had lessened and after a performance
I barely had any voice for a week or two. My body was getting more tired, but
the exhaustion mostly showed up in my voice. As a performer I wanted to make my
exit while I still sounded and looked good, so I did. Yet, though I knew this
was the wise thing to do, without a creative outlet in my life I felt empty.
Seeking to fill the void, I seriously began to study
the art of cooking. Looking back I’m almost glad that my mother was such a
horrible cook. My father was great in the kitchen but he didn’t want to bother,
so my sister and I learned early on to make dinner and everything else. At the
age of nine I was already preparing meals for our family and experimenting with
desserts. Since then I’ve never stopped eating or trying to concoct wonderful
dishes. After taking different classes for more than a year my meals got better
and I found the whole process both stimulating and relaxing. Beyond the
partaking of it, making good food has proven to be extremely fulfilling as a
creative way to satisfy my own needs and express my appreciation and love.
At the age of fifty-one I was finally diagnosed and
told that I have a severe speech disability. After almost forty years of
searching for an answer, I was incredibly grateful to understand my problem.
However, I felt overwhelmed by all the feelings that my diagnosis brought up
and fell into an emotional slump. I had to do something so I turned to a
creative endeavor I dabbled in since my twenties. I began to write and I’ve
been doing so ever since.
My diagnosis came at the end of December 1999 and I
started to write almost daily in early 2000. At first it was only for me.
However, the more I learned about my condition and thought about everything I
learned or had experienced from it, the more I wanted to share my knowledge.
The blog you are reading now is a result of this. Through my blog I have been
in touch with people who are newly afflicted with my condition. With others who
remain undiagnosed, my writing has connected us and provided me with an
opportunity to offer them suggestions on how to proceed and deal with their
speech problem. Like all the other creative pursuits, I take my writing
seriously and feel incredibly lucky to be able to do it. On a personal level it
has helped me tremendously, but the rewards are much greater when I hear that
it has enlightened or helped someone else.
The worst times regarding
my speech problem have always been when I felt I had no way to express myself.
None of my creativity has ever fully substituted for my voice loss, but the
process has helped me to temporarily forget it and pursue and enjoy other
things. I was recently reminded of this when I attended a collage party.
I went there with the idea that, since I’m not a craftsperson, I won’t be very
good at making a collage. However, as in all creative activities, being good
isn’t the point. In the process of learning how to make a collage I learned
about another way to have fun, relax, become engaged in something outside of
myself, create something from nothing, and express who I am.
There were many
times when I knew my speech problem was getting the best of me, but finding a
creative means of expression has always helped. So, whether you choose to paint, rearrange your furniture, or come up with a new
way to organize your recipes is unimportant. What is important is to have
something, and finding that something for yourself is really what it’s all
about.
