So for as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to sing. I was three or four when I started, so pretty much the only time I wasn’t singing was when I couldn’t speak. I sang through college, even majoring in voice for a couple of years. Then life happened, plus a little musical burnout.

Fast forward to four years ago and a major car accident later. Severe whiplash, muscle tension and weakness, and possible nerve damage made it so that if I tried to sing, my voice would cut out. I would also get dizzy anytime I would force a lot of air out. And for someone who has been literally singing her whole life, and has used it as self therapy for many of those years, that was a devastating blow that I did not need on top of the accident stuff.

Fear, anxiety, and depression set in from not being able to do something I had done naturally since the age of four. I was scared to death to sing because I didn’t want to create any more damage. Even after my ENT told me that I had “a little irritation of my vocal chords, and it’s nothing to worry about”, it didn’t ease my mind.

Earlier this year, I was reading an article because of some of the nerve damage that I think I have. And on the list of things that supposedly helped were humming and/or singing. I tried both, and some of the nerve stuff actually got better. So weirdly enough, the thing that I was scared of was the thing that was helping me heal.

Earlier tonight, I did vocal warmups for the first time in many years. I had to download a piano app because we no longer have a piano. I had to remember how to play the piano, and how to play chords and arpeggios again. I had to remember how breath support worked. And how Colorado’s elevation will make you work a little harder in that department. 

When it was all said and done, my two and a half octave range was still intact. A little scratchy at the bottom and the top of my range, but it was there. When I was singing consistently, I was close to three octaves, so I’m not off by that much. (To any non-musicians reading this, it’s a good thing.) My neck is still not perfect, and my diaphragm and deep neck muscles are still pretty weak, but it was the kind of start that I needed.

But the point of this blog post isn’t about me bragging about my vocal range, even though I’ve always been proud of it. It’s about letting people who are also struggling know that they are not alone. You can get stuck in some pretty dark places while dealing with trauma/injury/PTSD-Land, and sometimes, you feel like it’ll never end. Like you’ll never be the same again. But there are glimpses of healing that take place too, and those are what give you hope that it won’t always be like this. Everyone heals differently and at different speeds. And that’s perfectly ok. But never give up trying to get better. Even if you have to exhaust every resource to do so.

I know I still have a long way to go, but instead of worrying about it tonight, I dug my little massage therapist fingers into my throat muscles (it’s more fun than it sounds), and laughed at myself as I tried to hit the high notes and failed miserably.  But those missed high notes gave me hope that this little mezzo soprano might be nailing the high notes sometime in the near future. And after everything that I’ve been through in the past few years, that’s a freaking Christmas miracle.

Merry Christmas, loves! 

P.S.- I know it has been a WHILE since I posted. I promise that will change in the new year! Happy 2019!

P.P.S.- I MAY have listened to “You Will Be Found” from Dear Evan Hansen too many times before I wrote this post.