Preworry Runs in My Family

Ladies and gentlemen, I am a horrible and duplicitous person. Two faced in ways that DC Comics couldn't fathom.

I can hear the protests--I can't be two-faced, I'm too nice/sweet/dense/slow. Well, maybe not those last two. And I surely hate to disillusion you all, but there comes a time in every life when reality, harsh and unbending, must be faced. This is that time.

The reality of my life of lies hit me like a herring to the face today when, after sitting silently through rehearsal, I accepted Michele's praise about coming to both rehearsal and Final Vows even though I can't sing. I accepted her thanks, then snuck (sneaked?) out of the Basilica and headed for LaFortune, fun, and coffee. And I have every intention of going back and waiting outside the Basilica so that it looks like I attended. How lame is that?

In all honesty, though, I'm not sure I could have handled another hour listening to songs I know by heart and not singing them. Rewind: I think I hurt my voice and, pending a visit to an ear/nose/throat guy, am not singing at all. Period. Because I have no self control. Also because in the last few days even singing softly has made my ears ring and I clearly don't know how to sing without hurting myself.

Thing is, I'm preworrying a lot. That's my family's version of running the 'what ifs' and focusing on the absolute worst possible scenario. We fixate and ulcerate over them, and then get to enjoy the profound relief of knowing we blew the whole thing out of proportion when time reveals the pettiness of our worry. In this instance, worst case scenario is Julie Andrews: vocal fold nodules, botched surgery, range of 5 notes where once there were five octaves. Adjusted to my life, we're looking at 2 1/2 notes. I'll be like Springsteen, only my range will probably be lower than his.

That's basically what I'm fixated on. Actually, it's not that bad until I'm in rehearsal, not singing. Any other time and I'm able to think, it'll be fine. It's probably just stressed and I need to lay off for a month or so, then learn how to warm up properly. Vocal rest and rehab: no big.

But when I'm in rehearsal, listening to everyone else sing, it's way different. That's what I do. I have a hard time remembering the last time, before the last day or so, that I went 24 hours without singing...something. The last Mass I attended without at least singing quietly from the congregation. The last song I loved that I didn't in part love because I loved to sing it. And then I think about the possibility of not doing it for 6 months. And the possible consequence, if I can't learn some self control or figure out what's wrong, of never doing it again, and I lose it. Started tearing up during rehearsal today, and on Thursday.

What surprises me is that it's not the idea of not being in Folk Choir that bothers me. I mean, it bothers me, but I know that I can be without it and be more than fine. And even if I have to drop this year to heal, I know that the most important part--the people--won't stop hanging with me because I've misplaced my talent.

No, what bothers me is how will I respond if I really can't sing for a month, or three months, or six? What will I do with that time? How will it affect my faith life, since so much of what I experience in Mass has to do with the musical part of the liturgy? I don't know. Right now, I'm just praying that it's some sort of strange allergy, or a problem with my ear and not my voice. Or maybe that I'm in kind of voice settling stage. Okay, I think I made that up. I'm trying to be positive. That's hard for me.

Regardless, I'm going to head upstairs and get my coffee before I sneak back to the Basilica.

Song of the moment: "Louder Than Words"~Tick, Tick...BOOM!