Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

guest post

Better together

I’m an introvert. Perhaps I’ve mentioned that a time or two. I’m learning more and more what that means, but for many years I thought that being an introvert meant I wanted–and needed–to go it alone. As a first-born child, I also have an independent streak, and though I haven’t always been confident about my abilities, I have often preferred to do something myself, without asking for help, even if I was already overwhelmed.

Introvert or not, maybe you can relate?

I don’t go out of my way to let other people into my life. There’s a variety of reasons, some involving insecurity and fear of rejections, but mostly I think, I’ve got this. I can handle it all on my own.

Except for the times when I can’t.

I’m learning about asking for help, though it still isn’t easy. But even asking for help isn’t always the same as letting people in.

You can read the rest over at Putting on the New, where I post on the 12th of each month.

What losing my voice teaches me about finding it

I lost my voice this week. For three agonizing days, my throat has hurt to talk, and while I’m not what you would call “chatty,” I am a communicator, and having a weak voice at best has been frustrating.

My son, God love him, who is almost 6, thinks it’s hilarious to say, “What? I can’t hear you” when I ask him a question. I’m pretty sure he can hear me, and I’m not always patient in my reply.

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Photo by David Mao | via unsplash

The first day, I was whispering and then a friend told me that whispering is actually harder on your voice than regular speaking, so I gave up on that and tried to use my voice at whatever level I could. My daughter, who is 7 1/2, took to repeating everything I said so that her brother would attempt to follow directions. I gestured a lot and tried to communicate messages to my husband so he could speak for me. I’m not sure I realized how much I talk to the kids until I couldn’t.

It’s exhausting to have no voice. Everything is harder. I haven’t received many phone calls, which is good, because I would probably let most of them go to voicemail. I’m grateful to still have the ability to text and e-mail and write things on Facebook, so at the end of the day I still feel like I’ve communicated something. But it’s hard for me to resist speaking to my in-real-life people.

There’s a moment each morning when I wonder if my voice has come back. I’m almost reluctant to try it out because of the disappointment I’ll feel if it hasn’t returned. Each day shows some improvement, but I’m not sure when I’ll be fully functional again.

 

To read the rest, head over to Putting on the New, where I blog on the 12th day of each month.