Some of you know that I’ve been having voice lessons… for about six months now.
I’ve always wanted to learn to sing, but it’s difficult to summon up the courage to try a new hobby. I mean, the courage not just to try it, but to sustain that courage long enough, and keep practising long enough, to feel really good at it. Good enough to really enjoy it, you know?
Well courage is neither here nor there, now.
Fortunately or unfortunately, I’ve been forced into voice lessons by a problem with my vocal cords. It’s not so much singing lessons as “voice rehab”… because although my singing is alright, speaking is a struggle.
I don’t know how it began – maybe stress, maybe a physical issue that cleared up and left bad habits behind; all I know is that I am physically fine – the doctors can find nothing wrong – and yet right now, my speaking voice is a croaky, whispery mess.
What does this have to do with sewing? Stay with me.
oOo
Each week Mark has me run through various exercises. He asks me to sing “go-go-go” because the letter “g” is a hard consonant that exercises the cords and brings them together properly. Then he might have me sing “nay-nay-nay” or “mum-mum-mum” or “fooooooooo”, all sounds that strengthen or stretch different parts of my voice.
The part I really love right now is when I sing “one-two-three-two-one” up and down a scale, then “one-two-three-two-one” all on one note, then I SAY those words, and somehow, goodness, THERE’s my voice! Where have you been?
My voice knows what to do when I sing, so we’re trying to map the way that I sing onto the way that I speak. We’re trying to show my voice what to do to bring its function back, much like you might undergo physiotherapy on an injured arm or leg.
Finally, we’ll try a song – we began with snippets, a line or two, and now I can just about make it all the way through “Only You” by Yazoo without collapsing like a marathon runner in training.
It’s improving.
oOo
There’s a common thread that runs through all my lessons. A running joke has developed, when Mark tells me to give it “more attack”, or try a little louder. “Lean into it,” he’ll say. “Trust it.” And strange as it seems, the more loudly and confidently I launch into the line of a song, the better it comes out. “See?” Mark says for the umpteenth time, “You’re more capable than you think you are.”
oOo
One of my favourite things about learning a new skill, whether it be sewing or crochet or singing or Mongolian cookery, is that within that seemingly random skill that you might just be learning for fun, there’s always a wider lesson.
You’re more capable than you think you are.
What if we embodied this advice in the rest of our lives? What if I leaned into my business, or my relationships, or my biggest, fondest dreams?
And what if you took that to heart in your sewing? What if you selected fabrics and projects slightly outside your current capabilities? What if you launched into it with more attack, because you know that you’re more capable than you think you are?
Hi Cathy, thank you for your open words!
I can imagine how it feels like!! I have the same problem when I speak in public, when people start to listen to me. I should tell myself that I know what I’m talking about and that it’s interesting what I have to tell.. but my voice breaks.. but I go on, try to get rid of feeling ashamed.
The same with sewing corsets with cups. I know some day I’ll be good but still it’s a underpaid part because I need so many tries to have a good looking result.
Do I give up? No! I try not to be too rough with me and go on learning and trying as often as I can. But it is not easy!
And I hope to see you again launching videos and tell us your story!!! One day I’ll be that brave too.
Cathy, i love you. Thank you for always inspiring me. You are in my thoughts as I re-examine tackling corsetry and all things historical costume. It was a pleasure seeing you at Lacis.
Yours,
Francesca aka. Princess Tiana
This is so good Cathy. Here’s to your voice getting stronger! Thank you!
I was wondering what was going on with your voice, and I feared you’d had throat cancer – my aunt had a similar voice for said cause. I’m so glad to find out you do not. I think your voice is unique and lovely, it makes you very recognizable, it gives you an aura of tranquility and wisdom, and you really are relaxing to listen to. I wish you the very best and hope you’ll be achieving everything you want to achieve with both your sewing skills and your voice.
Thank you for being open about something that is – well – easier left unsaid.
While for a few months now I have been watching Bernadette Banner – and some others sewing “history,” or wearing it or styling to it.
But just in the last few days this curfew has me feeling a bit “alone” and out of touch.
I live in Miami in the Little Havana neighborhood. Around me are mostly elderly neighbors and perhaps some recently moved relatives from Latin countries.
I’m fluent in Spanish and in fact the house I live in was my grandmother’s when from when I was young till she passed away in 2002. My house, in St Pete Florida turned out to be on a sinkhole – you read that right – and I had to move suddenly. I heard my grandmother’s home was for sale in Miami and bought it.
But I no longer have any living relatives in Miami. I moved here with my partner, originally from Maine, who is laconic at best.
Normally I attend various botany clubs – there is actually – for example – one called “The Society for Flowering Trees” here. I have about 4 different ones weekly on my calendar that meet in the evenings (and they only meet once a month – that’s how many their are!) Or my work gives me lots of human interaction – I’ve been doing instructional design and training. In the past I was a social media maven for companies – but life took me down a different route in the last 6 years. But – you get the picture. I could sit in the woods alone all day looking for a specific butterfly – but most days I’d rather be talking with someone about that butterfly.
I, in general, have an “up-beat” people person – life and every living thing loving person – as well as loving history, the arts, architecture, and things like little birds bathing in a puddle.
Yet – for the last few days, here “sheltering in place” I haven’t been myself. I’m feeling quiet, listless, and can’t concentrate. Maybe there’s a little depression peaking out – or … something.
I’d never would normally put this online with my name on it.
But I was so impressed with what you’ve written here – it is somehow – my response to you.
Thanks to Bernadette – I have been exposed to some of your work – and just now after googling what she posted yesterday 4/4/2020 I thought I’d see if I can find anything more about you. And your voice. I was worried that it might be an ongoing health issue. I’m so glad it’s not.
Thanks for being so “real.” – Tonight, after reading this “older” post I can be more of this odd uncomfortable “real” too
I meant to say above that while I speak Spanish – I am missing speaking and hearing English.
I meant to add above – that I am missing hearing English. Speaking in English, being spoken to in English. Listen to you and Bernadette have helped sooth that a bit.
You can add it to the above if you like.
Dear Cathy,
I hope you are well and happy.
I saw your videos about your voice, and I would like to share a few observations which may be helpful.
I can distinctly recall being 7 years old on my back yard swing, hearing the voices of my mother, older sister, and grandmother through the window screen.
I didn’t like the tone, a kind of loud whining that sounded wrong to me.
I made the conscious choice immediately that I would not talk like them.
I read a lot at that age, and I began to adopt turns of phrase which appealed to me and bits of dialects I found charming.
I made my voice to suit myself. After 55 years it is as wonderful and freeing to use this voice as it could be. It is truly my natural expression, a blessing and an everlasting inspiration. There could be none better for me.
So, I know a person can legitimately change their mode of speech.
Of course, as with any change, some backwash may come from those who presume to judge, but it is not consequential when considering self-expression, a thing essential and vital to a human being.
Anyone who would seek to squelch such freedom of speech is a pervert.
That’s where I think your experience may relate to mine.
In Buddhist belief, all suffering is caused by unrealized expectations.
When your fella said what he did you were suddenly struck by the awful realization of the weight of your unrealized expectations. It took a single staggering split-second. You heart was dealt a dreadful shock, as he openly showed himself to be a perv, by muzzling you, discounting you. You knew how wrong he was. Your body gave a silent scream that has yet to be expressed. Acknowledging his lack of humanity was not something you would wish to do. It is misery.
And before he said it he had to think it, which is bad in itself. Suddenly you had insight into his mind that shone a brilliant light on his true character and your future.
You chose a voice then that had to be attended to in order to be heard. You chose to place emphasis on verbiage. Those who would wish to hear you would have to draw nearer, which would no longer appeal to the fella. It was rational and intentional, though instinctive and uncharacteristic. You made a shift back in the direction of authenticity to promote your true self. You stood up against a tyrant.
That fella had no more right to tell you how to speak that he had to tell you how to dress or what to eat. If you heard him say such a thing to anyone else you would have instantly known he was out of line.
So, dear Cathy, these are some of my observations. In my life there has been no shortage of critics, and few have cheered me in my pursuits. But I am so glad I am who I am, despite heredity and environment.
I do hope you relish the support of all those who think highly of you.
You are a fine woman who deserves to be heard.
With admiration and all good wishes,
Nuncia