Over My Head
I was on the phone with Mara setting up a date to play Scrabble when she said to me, “I enjoyed the reading you did about your mom at our last open mic, but I think it was the first time you didn’t read any poetry. That was weird.”
“Do you know why?” I asked and then went on to explain.
I was scheduled to read my WVTF Radio Mother’s Day essay, and I wanted to explain to the audience how the essay came about, that I had written one for my father first, in honor of his WWII service, and my mother hoped out loud that I would write one for her.
“When I stumbled on the word “veteran” in my set-up for the piece and almost said “veterinarian,” I knew I was in trouble,” I told Mara. “I just couldn’t find the word. I couldn’t count on my own brain! And then I didn’t know how to verbally make the transition from a Mother’s Day essay to poetry. I just wanted to read the essay and get off the stage.
Mara replied that she hadn’t noticed that I fumbled or that anything was wrong with me, but she and I both have ongoing issues with anxiety, and so she understood.
“I didn’t feel comfortable even before that. Maybe it was hormonal or because the crowd was big. It was as if my brain connections were flipped on OFF. Why am I even in this business with a brain like mine?!” I complained.
My Chinese Medicine Practitioner, who I worked with for 2 full years, believes he was treating me primarily for a head injury (and that’s a whole other story). Many of my family members struggle with dyslexia and dyscalculia. Or maybe my fragile brain chemistry is related to my longstanding issues with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, of which one component is described as “brain fog.”
Later, while playing Scrabble, Mara and I continued our conversation. After writing a blog post about meeting NPR’s Terry Gross with mention of how she didn’t look like I expected (and after being spurred by a comment by Mayberry), I did a little research on Diane Rehm, another Public Radio interviewer I like to listen to. I wanted to see what Diane looked like and learn what was wrong with her voice. It’s shaky and weak and sounds as though she has suffered a stroke.
According to a 1999 Washington Post article titled “Diane Rehm Finds a Voice of Her Own,” Rehm has a neurological disorder called “spasmodic dysphonia, a disorder that attacks the voice. She also suffers the psychological effects of coping with her disorder, which manifest as anxiety, shortness of breath, and self doubt. In a book authored by Rehm, she tells of her traumatic childhood relationship with her mother, implying that the emotional roots of her voice loss started there.
“Can you imagine being in radio with a problem like that? And being successful in spite of it?” I asked Mara.
Then I read my favorite part of the article out loud to Mara, the part that I related to most, Rehm’s own description of anxiety: “It’s not the anxiety that originates the problem. The anxiety follows. It feeds the fear and the fear feeds the anxiety, and caught in the cycle is: the voice.”
Or, in my case, the brain. When I can’t count on it to function right, fearful feelings of being unprepared and incapable ultimately lead to anxiety. Sometimes the fear is a rational one, such as when I’m driving through an unfamiliar and congested city, and I can’t process all the highway signs, overpasses, and exits. Other times it’s less rational, less predictable, and something I can usually bluff my way through; unless of course I’m on stage with a microphone in my hand.
But things could be worse. I feel fortunate that my fragile brain functioning isn’t as evident to others as the voice disorder that plagues Diane Rehm. The next time I’m doing a public reading and I feel ill at ease, I’ll try to remember her and let her perseverance inspire me.
May 30th, 2006 1:59 am
Good for you, and good for Diane! Makes me think of that old adage, “Feel the fear, go ahead anyway.”
May 30th, 2006 2:51 am
Haven’t stopped by in a while, but I’m glad I did tonight. Wanted to tell you that I met Terry Gross once and I was astounded at how TINY she is. I’m tall, really tall, and she was like a 5th grader in size, and maybe 90 lbs fully clothed. Her hair was redder then, a good 15 years ago, and she looked younger, as do we all. But she’s still minute, and like you, I had to close my eyes to listen to her voice. She was delightful and very amusing.
May 30th, 2006 8:14 am
Yes, and the purple beret…. that can’t help but give courage. It takes someone with a lot of confidence to pull on a purple beret.
May 30th, 2006 8:42 am
I’ve always felt that having a problem isn’t the worst thing….it’s the not being aware enough to face the problem and taking the steps of walking through it to the other side.
Good for you for your awareness.
May 30th, 2006 8:46 am
I hate it when the fear of something for me is so much bigger than the act itself and I lose what could have been a memorable moment in my life.
I am in awe of all you do in public Colleen. You do a good job not letting your anxieties take anything away from you.
May 30th, 2006 1:05 pm
It’s been said that fear and love are the only two true emotions. Our brains – the computers that they are- function mainly on the survivability factor and run on whatever past programs we have consciously or unconsciously stored there. It is tough to change an old program.
You are working mightedly to activate change by facing your fears and with love.
I say all this to say; Writing is your medicine. Keep taking it – it can literally change your brain issues.
BTW, did you read my post yesterday about the neurological condition synaesthesia?
quote: “Growing evidence links synaesthesia to cognitive dysfunction; dyslexia, dyscalculia and cognitive interference from synaesthetic experiences have been reported.”
I think this is all related; ie; it’s all about the brain and the emotions that fuel it.
May 30th, 2006 1:20 pm
My mother-in-law also suffers from spasmodic dysphonia, believed to have been brought about when her husband died in a car accident while the family was on vacation nearly forty years ago. About fifteen years ago, she traveled to Vanderbilt University to undergo a what was then a trial, experiemental treatment – shots of botox right into the vocal chords. It causes her to whisper for several days afterward, but then – miraculously – her voice returns, strong and sure. It’s the most amazing thing. She has been taking the shots 1-2 a year since, and you wouldn’t believe the difference. Especially psychologically, I’d wager.
May 30th, 2006 1:47 pm
Colleen…when you describe yourself, it sounds as if you are describing me…although, you are a much better writer than I am!!! I beleive my oldest daughter (now 7) is the same way! It is tough living with feelings of anxiety..and never sure when your brain is going to give out!;)
May 30th, 2006 1:53 pm
I always learn something when I read your posts, and I enjoy that very much!
May 30th, 2006 1:55 pm
Jennifer: It sounds like Diane gets those shots too, according the Post article linked here. It seems she has some improvement but not as much as your mother-in-law. I’ve never heard her on the radio without noticing her faultering voice.
Kath: I had to look up synaesthesia to refresh my memory. I have been known to see colors when hugging people and I do have sensory overload quite easily, but I don’t think I’m necessarily synaesthetic, according to the definition. Perhaps it’s like autism and asbergers…different degrees of a related disorder.
And look at what our second cousin Tammy just said. I definately think it’s genetic. But I also think it’s a “5” (enneagram) thing. The inner world 5’s types don’t think well on their feet. They think better when they’re alone. Introverts in general are like this. Introvert meaning people who need to be alone to recharge as opposed to extroverts who get charged by being with people.
Of couse, we would just say you sound like a Redman, Tammy.
May 30th, 2006 5:14 pm
As an aside that has nothing to do with anxiety and/or voice issues, I informally met Diane R. at a dance lesson in Bethesda years ago. She is a very attractive woman! (Her husband hated being there, so I think the lessons were her idea.)
May 30th, 2006 5:52 pm
Thinking about her problem is sure to help you function better. I surely have never noticed a problem – but I guess you only have it when you are speaking in public, huh?
May 30th, 2006 9:18 pm
Thank you for the compliment! Yes…I am part Redman!!!:)
May 30th, 2006 9:41 pm
Thanks for the link on Diane. I too found it very inspirational, and very ironic. Sort of like Beethoven loosing his ability to hear.
I am impressed by anyone that can perform in public. I think there are artists and there are performers. For many those two things are exclusive. For instance, I’m a musician, but very, very far from being a performer. But some are lucky enough to be good at both.
May 30th, 2006 10:12 pm
Well said, Mayberry! I’ve come a long way from how hard it used to be.