At the peak of my child-raising years, I lost my voice. I went hoarse and stayed hoarse for months.
When finally I realized it wasn’t a sinus problem or a lingering virus of some kind, I went to a throat specialist.
“You have children?” he asked.
“You yell at children?” He was Russian, so imagine his accent, please.
“You maybe fight with husband?” We would soon be divorced.
“Um, kind of.”
“No more yelling. You must not yell. Not at children. Not at husband.”
“Yelling? That’s the problem?”
“Yelling is problem,” he agreed. “You must whisper only. No yelling. For one year, also not talking. S-h-h-h. Like this,” he said, demonstrating a loud whisper.
I had a full-time job, a son, two step-children and a crumbling marriage … and I was supposed to whisper for a whole year? If I wanted my voice back, that was the only way.
It didn’t happen. I’m not sure I could ever have disciplined myself to whisper for a year at any time in my life, but definitely not then. As a result, my singing voice never came back. I lost it for good and all. I can speak normally, but I can’t sing. I also can’t yell. One yell and I’m hoarse for a month.
Don’t yell. It’s very bad for your voice.