Becoming Vocal Again

The name Vocal flashed up on Facebook. It resonated deep within my soul.

Following neck surgery a year earlier, I had struggled to talk, to swallow. To do all those simple, mechanical things that our body does so mindlessly, so efficiently that we totally underestimate the complex workings required to make these miracles occur

For three months, I followed the soft food diet plan. I learnt to focus completely on each mouthful. On the process of chewing, swallowing, and breathing

Then I learnt that breathing was a major component of talking. And that for years I had done this wrong. I learnt to breathe in deeply and consciously, and to feel the muscles relax, the body calm and the voice strengthen.

I learnt how to blow bubbles while trying to talk, and to hum.

To use resonant voice—pressing power forward to the point that vibrations were felt in the face—instead of trying to yell to make myself heard.

I learnt to read aloud, to practice tongue twisters and to time my breaths so sentences could flow easier. Still, at times, my voice disappeared—making only feeble whispers, or hoarse undecipherable noises. Communication became difficult.

At the time I was dealing with PTSD. Part of the surgery was as the result of an attempted strangulation. Apparently, trauma and emotion can be trapped physically, adding to the levels of pain.

I found it ironic that the medical industry was teaching me chanting and yoga breathing at the same time I was exploring spirituality. I learnt about chakras, including the throat chakra and its influence over the neck and throat. It's role of "speaking your truth."

Another moment of clarity showed me how for a lifetime I had given my power away. For security. To remain safe. To try and gain attention and affection through years of being abused and controlled.

This flowed over into work, with me having no personal boundaries—leaving me vulnerable to harassment, prone to trying too hard, and doing too much. Looking after myself was job priority I only realised after crashing and burning, unable to function anymore.

Physically, I still struggle to be vocal. In moments of pressure my voice disappears. Eating is still something requiring full attention, making social events more challenging.

Yet words themselves have once again become my friend.

At 15 I loved English. I wrote effortlessly, ideas flowing through me with ease and passion. I was driven to be a writer or a journalist; even a librarian surrounded by my beloved words.

Then life took a different turn. Running from an unhappy home situation to an even unhappier relationship, survival left little room for creativity.

Incredibly, when decluttering the other day I discovered years, decades even, of experiences and emotions penned on scraps of paper.

The fact that I even have them still is a miracle in itself. And in reading them and reliving them came an opportunity to feel, to heal, and to move past some pivotal moments.

This has freed me from flashbacks, and lessened the likelihood of physical disconnect when panic causes a temporary withdrawal from consciousness.

I have joined a spiritual community—made friends and experienced a sense of acceptance and belonging I hadn't realised I was missing.

I have beautiful children and grandchildren. They too have travelled difficult roads, complicating our relationships. But they love me, and I love them, and together we are stronger and life is easier, happier and with more meaning.

Finally, I am finding peace, and with it a connection to a source of inspiration.

On checking out Vocal, I was amazed at the raw authenticity of the stories, at the shared vulnerability, at the communication on a deeper soul level.

I consider being part of it a privilege. An opportunity.

A wondrous world in which to learn and grow. To share my beloved words again.

Thank you 🙏