Shove The Door Open: Keep On

Life has a beautiful way of constantly reminding you that you are not and never will be in control. Think about it: Very little of what happens to you every day is a result of something you did. You can plan on going somewhere, doing something at a certain time, etc. But once you make your move, you are at the mercy of the many curveballs that will threaten your linear plan. These constant reminders keep me humble. But they also inspire me to do something else: Fight back.

I’m not saying I’m trying to control the world and everything in my life that affects me. If that were the case, I’d have to control hundreds of other people’s lives too. And though the thought of that much control is awesome (good golly everyone, be sunshiny fabulous, I command you!), who would have time or energy for anything else?

But how you react to curveballs can ultimately determine what the longterm effect on your life will be. To fully understand where I’m coming from, here’s a recap of what my plans were when we jumped into the future on January 1st, 2015.

• I started a photo campaign on Instagram, #sunshiny365. I’ve successfully posted daily with that hashtag thus far.
• After determining my vocal cord inflammation was due to allergies, I started a routine treatment plan, and vowed to record vocals for my collection of tracks I’ve been so patiently tweaking for a couple years.
• With the aforementioned music complete, I anticipated getting updated photos and media for a complete website refresh.
• I wanted to start singing live gigs as a teaser for the new material.

Well, long story short, my plans are delayed… again. I know, I’m a broken record, and I hate it. I don’t like complaining and never do in my blogs but I really, really hate it: get it? I’m using the word “hate” here, which I seldom use. I’m that frustrated and depressed about it. Angry, even.

Here’s the thing. In January, I started treating my allergies aggressively, which initially helped immensely. For several weeks, I was singing remarkably better. It finally felt like my vocal cords were working the way they used to; without strain, pain or fatigue. I could sing five songs in a row without a hitch! I was turning a corner.

Then, after Spring began and everything I’m moderately or severely allergic to went into overdrive, I started coughing. It got progressively worse and worse. I had no significant sinus pressure, no headaches, no fever and hardly any nose congestion. But every day, I’d wake up with junk in my throat (sorry, no other way to say it) and the coughing was unrelenting.

After almost a month of morning coughing fits, I went back to my ENT, whom I’m sorry to say knows me very well these days. I was happy when he looked at my vocal cords and (contrary to their swollen, irritated red appearance in January) they were in pristine and great condition. That small piece of positive news made me want to jump for joy: A victory! But unfortunately, the coughing and congestion in my throat has been so bad, my voice is horrible: I’m hoarse all the time. Ugh.

I’m not going to lie; I feel defeated, like I just can’t win. If it isn’t one thing, it’s something else. But I’m not going down without a fight. Sure, my plans are delayed (for what seems like the thousandth time). My songs sit, unfinished, just waiting for vocals. But they will get there. At some point, it will happen! It will. It will. I can do it.

I currently have a lovely swelling at the top of my sternum (Tietze’s syndrome) as a result of the ferocious coughing. You can faintly see it underneath my necklace in the photo. It hurts like a… yeah. Let’s just say you very quickly become painfully aware of how much you use your chest muscles to talk/laugh/sing/raise your arms, etc. I’ve added more meds to the mix, which I hope will nix everything in the bud, and I’m drinking tons of water.

Here’s the worst part: The music I hoped to release this summer probably isn’t going to happen. It breaks my heart, but my body needs time to heal. Vocals will have to come later, and live gigs are still a ways off. I can’t even go for my runs until the chest pain is gone! Ugh.

But I’m not stopping. I'm holding on to that wish/prayer/hope. I don’t care if I have to get a crowbar or a chainsaw or a short sword to bust through; I’m shoving that door open.