Mary + Her Mental Health

So the first day you lose your voice, it’s kind of fun. Admit it, it’s fun. You sound all raspy and sexy and stuff. Kathleen Turner living in your vocal cords. Day Two the novelty wears off a little since, by this time, you just want to be able to speak without getting light-headed due to all the air you’re blowing out your throat just to make audible noise. Day Three speaking actually starts to become a little painful and demands way too much energy. Day Four, especially if you’re a singer, is bad because now you just want to be able to sing again. Not solos at Carnegie Hall or anything, but just to be able to sing along with the radio, or even hum in the shower. It’s the little things you miss, like humming. It really begins to become annoying when you can’t even hum or laugh at something funny someone says. Well, you can….but it hurts. So you don’t.

On the other hand, there are advantages to losing your voice due to a severe chest cold. Which I have. When you call to leave a message for your boss that you won’t be coming in, your cracked, warbly voice really lends itself to the validity factor. They KNOW you’re not faking it if you can’t speak five words together without swallowing, coughing, or pausing while you attempt to get your balance back. The next day, when you drag your sorry self to work, they practically beg you to go home early. “You sounded so terrible on your phone message, I just wanted hug you!” You tilt your head with a look of “ohhh, that’s so sweet of you to say!” but secretly you feel vindicated. You love that they know you’re not faking it. They’re lapping it up, and everybody wants to feed you soup. They lap sick vibe, you lap soup. In other words, with some illnesses people may speculate whether you’re really sick because they see no evidence of it. With a raspy voice, there’s no need to speak in your defense for one minute….literally. In fact, they’ll ask you to stop after Word Six.