Don’t Speak

I don’t think I’ve ever been this quiet in all my life. It’s been a week since I visited Mr Al Yaghchi at OneWelbeck for vocal surgery and that means one week since I last said a word to anybody. I’m going to level with you…I have no idea how I’ve managed to not make a sound. I guess the fear of fucking up the surgery is the main factor? I had this surgery so I could finally overcome something that’s forever bothered me…I don’t want to be the one who then ruins this chance for further internal peace. Not to mention the cost. I’ve had quite a lot of questions about the surgery and my experience, so I decided to write a post about it all. Skip to the end if you’re just here for the before and after pic!!

Content warning: this post contains discussion of surgery and addiction, which some people may find triggering. This also contains images some people may find upsetting – especially the second one.

Talk Is Not Cheap

Flat. Hollow. Irritating. As if I was talking into an empty jar. That’s how I’d describe my voice. I’ve always hated it. The sound of my own voice makes me want to just run head first into a wall. But how can I hate something that’s an integral part of me? Easily. These days, I rarely listen back to podcasts or interviews where I speak. If there are others talking, I’ll just skip past my bits. But how long can I was I expecting to keep avoiding this for?

Even Heroes Have A Bad Day

CONTENT WARNING: This post contains mentions of mental health difficulties and suicide, which some people may find triggering.

My mental health has always been a rollercoaster. And not the good kind either. I’m talking the old rickety type where safety is a complete unknown and the ride operator isn’t paying attention. Before I came out, it was full of unpredictability. I used to want off this ride and to be cured so desperately. I just wanted to be “normal”. But, as I’ve come to realise, there’s no such thing as normal.