Mute Again

This blog has become a valued part of my therapy.

Yesterday Dr. Shoja wanted to know if I had any idea what might have triggered my current “crisis” so I dearly wanted to tell her about my experience at Cirque. She offered me a pen and paper — can you imagine her sitting there while I wrote out that long story? Instead, I was able to show her the story on this blog using my phone.

So now, sometimes, my blog posts can be very practical.

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It’s important to me to optimize every experience so I searched for a positive outcome from my Cirque experience. For one thing, I did not have a seizure. And: I have a new “emergency” (fast acting) medicine that serves for a PTSD episode in a way similar to the way my “rescue inhaler” functions for an asthma attack.

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I am learning about dysfluency through the publications of an American academic partnership — Richard Culatta of Appalachian State University and Linda Leeper of New Mexico State University. I have read a lot about dysfluency issues that do not affect me as well as aspects of the phenomenon that are personally relevant.

I was diagnosed with psychogenic (emotionally based) dysfluency (EBD). In the third paragraph of their introduction to EBD, they write: “Emotionally based dysfluencies nearing 90% of all utterances are not unusual.” They cite their own research, published in 1987, as the source of their data supporting that statement.

Well that’s me right now. I am at 100%.

My speech app will be vital today. I have to take my car in. I will pre-load my questions and the things I want to say into the app and play it to the clerks at the dealership. Tomorrow, if I am still mute, I will not be going to the Christmas party I was planning to attend. Doing anything with people is pointless under these conditions.

I know this will pass, but right now it’s hard not to worry. If by I am still mute on Christmas day, I am going to J&B’s anyway. They are true dear friends who stick with me no matter what.

This is my second bout of muteness. When I am like this, a form of practical charades is a vital part of getting through the day. Another feature of muteness is moments — just moments — of extreme frustration and sadness too.

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All my friends know about Rand. I can ask friends, “Shall I Rand?” Which is to ask them if they’re okay with me using my fake South African accent voice to speak with. When I can speak, I speak with a bad “stutter.” (I use quotation marks there because I am technically not a stutterer but I use the word to describe my vocal ticks that are caused by psychogenic dysfluency.) But when I speak using my Rand voice, I do not stutter at all because speaking that way uses a different neural pathway.

Similarly, when I am mute. If I close my eyes and visualize Mr. I., my affectionate friend, and attempt speaking to him, I can speak. I “stutter,” but I can speak. The same works for Dwight or Leslie or any one thoroughly trustable, but only if I am speaking to them.