If you want to loose your voice completely, I recommend you go to a high school reunion with an already sore throat. Strain your voice for 4 hours as you try to have conversations while competing with the noise (sound or music to some ears) of a hip-hop concert and it’s crowd, and voila, no voice. It’s works. I tried it. Woke up the morning after and my voice was gone. I must admit it was pretty croaky at the end of the evening, but nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t take care of…I thought.
I was wrong. I ended up spending the 23rd, 24th, and 25th of December silent. It was a frustrating, but also slightly enlightening experience. Frustrating for obvious reasons like not being able to communicate, having to merely listen to conversations I’d have like to be a part of, and getting very tired from trying to utter the few words I did utter as a matter of necessity. I also noticed that when the ability to speak is gone (well, not completely as I was able to say the absolutely necessary in a faint, hoarse whisper), words are chosen with great care. And I’d think it through for a long time before attempting to say something. Mindless chitchat was not a priority.
I was also surprised at how I felt my personality also changed, maybe not changed, but was restricted. I turned into a very silent and quiet person, and not being able to be myself was also a challenge.
I wish I could say I discovered a remedy for speedy recovery, but I didn’t. I ate some vitamin C I found in the cupboard (one of those round fizzy tablet things you dissolve in water and drink; it didn’t taste as bad as I expected it to, more like water with a bit of citrus in it), drank orange juice, and tried honey (I had hot milk with honey, bread with honey, and even spoonfuls of honey on it’s own). Maybe these things helped, but I think what did more was rest (i.e. resting my voice and not speaking).
Now that my voice is back I am very grateful, but I do hope I can take with me the realization of how many unnecessary words are actually spoken, and that sometimes less is more. A few well-chosen words often do make more of an impact then many words.
I was wrong. I ended up spending the 23rd, 24th, and 25th of December silent. It was a frustrating, but also slightly enlightening experience. Frustrating for obvious reasons like not being able to communicate, having to merely listen to conversations I’d have like to be a part of, and getting very tired from trying to utter the few words I did utter as a matter of necessity. I also noticed that when the ability to speak is gone (well, not completely as I was able to say the absolutely necessary in a faint, hoarse whisper), words are chosen with great care. And I’d think it through for a long time before attempting to say something. Mindless chitchat was not a priority.
I was also surprised at how I felt my personality also changed, maybe not changed, but was restricted. I turned into a very silent and quiet person, and not being able to be myself was also a challenge.
I wish I could say I discovered a remedy for speedy recovery, but I didn’t. I ate some vitamin C I found in the cupboard (one of those round fizzy tablet things you dissolve in water and drink; it didn’t taste as bad as I expected it to, more like water with a bit of citrus in it), drank orange juice, and tried honey (I had hot milk with honey, bread with honey, and even spoonfuls of honey on it’s own). Maybe these things helped, but I think what did more was rest (i.e. resting my voice and not speaking).
Now that my voice is back I am very grateful, but I do hope I can take with me the realization of how many unnecessary words are actually spoken, and that sometimes less is more. A few well-chosen words often do make more of an impact then many words.