Not So Steady Girl

Recently, I was diagnosed with an Essential Tremor, which happily they have a pill for. My doc says the pill won’t take it away completely, and it may get worse over time. As long as I can remember while using my hands for specific tasks, drawing, baking, making jewelry, writing - they would shake a little, hardly noticeable. I figured it was nerves or anxiety and paid it no mind, but occasionally when I wasn’t alone, someone would ask why my hands were shaking. Obviously, it was noticeable.

I used to enjoy singing, while the music played. Musicals from the 50’s and 60’s, blues, folk, torch songs, even opera. To my own ears it never seemed that I was ruining the song and I loved it, it freed me. Someone once told me they thought I sounded like Julie Andrews. Really? A coworker overheard me singing along to Madam Butterfly. (I was in my office with the door closed) A few days later he asked me to join his elite choir, I said I wouldn’t make it through the audition. He told me he heard me and there was no need to worry. My point is, I always took singing for granted. A few years ago my voice started wobbling, I couldn’t hold a tune or a note. The essential tremor is to blame for that. That makes me sad, I really miss singing along. It took me out of myself.

I gave up making jewelry a little while back. Between the shaking and my aging eyesight the pleasure was gone. I still bake, I use one hand to steady the other, but it’s becoming more frustrating and a much slower process. Luckily in this digital world hand writing and printing are no longer a necessity.

I stopped sketching shortly after I graduated art school. I got good enough to know that I wasn’t willing to put in the time to get really good. I didn’t work long enough at it to develop my own style. To be clear, not gimmick, style. I enjoyed sketching and I enjoyed working with pastels. Last year I bought a sketch book. I was thinking about trying again, but I’m afraid to. Now that I’ve been diagnosed with this essential tremor thing I’m thinking maybe this is the perfect time to start. Maybe a little shaking could free me, the way singing would. Losing my inhibitions, being impulsive through no fault of my own...this could work in my favor.

If I get up the nerve to try to draw again, I will. But the problem now is, what I have just written  makes me aware that not being able to sing anymore is the kicker. Not until now, did I understand how much I miss it. How disappointed I feel when driving alone and I hear myself try to sing. I laugh, but I’m sad. It’s a private let down, a lonely let down, something I shared with only me. I know it’s part of aging. I only wish I would have known how much it defined me before it was gone.