Avoidance. I grovel in it.
This space sits quietly. Ignored for shinier spaces where I can be shallow.
I pin pretty things.
I post pictures and videos without the conversation surrounding them.
I speak in abbreviated thoughts, never really saying anything.
Here is the place where I am raw. Vulnerable. I end up feeling too deeply. Thinking too long. I haven't been in the mood to share.
Milestones have come and gone without me breathing even the smallest detail about them. Kevin's birthday. First steps and first words. Summer camps and swimming lessons. A small vacation. Our fifth anniversary, and I didn't even post a song this year.
I've lost my voice.
Last Friday night, we had a gig. Bill's voice was almost gone, and he asked me to fill in for him on some of the songs he couldn't sing. We worked our way through the set that night, trading lead and harmonies, singing some in unison, and letting him just sit some out.
On the way home, I realized that I had lost my voice. Gone. I couldn't speak a word. The boys had shared some upper respiratory virus. Between the virus and taxing my voice at the gig, I was rendered silent for days.
I can't lie. I didn't mind much. It was comfortable to be silent in real life for a few days. I came out of it with so much to say, though. I have so much to say - all stored up somewhere inside me.
This year has left me feeling rather drained. Like a virus I just can't shake.
It's taken my voice.
I need to take it back.
