A Fraidy Cat Without a Voice

What do you call a writer who lost her voice? I didn’t see it coming, but it didn’t come as a shock either now that I am looking in the rear view mirror of life.

The voice stealer had been circling me at a distance. I could feel him out there like a wolf circling pray in the dark of a winter blizzard. I was edgy. Hyper-vigilant.

I kept moving thinking I’d out run him, and everything would be fine.

It was last year this time. I was on a lovely resort in Florida traipsing around alligator and python infested golf courses in the dark. That’s what friends do when they are lost on a resort in Florida, I guess.

I was with writers and bloggers the likes of Michael Hyatt, and I was a pretender.

I was pretending that life was o.k. and that I was one of them or would be shortly. Months later, a sweet friend from Alberta inboxed me, “I sensed heaviness about you when we were all at Captiva. I knew you were not ok. I am praying for you.”

I made myself scarce while trying to network and connect. It felt like even more of an oxymoron than it sounds.

My marriage was in tatters. I was newly separated and numb. It was hard to put on a pretty, successful face when the whole world felt ugly and cold and scary.

And, I was far from successful at anything. I couldn’t even succeed in my own private life.

A high powered blogger sat down beside me. She keeps a professional distance and seems impatient when dealing with me. I was prepared to give her the needed space to allow me to emerge unscathed.

Courtesy D. Scott

She turned unexpectedly towards me. “You,” she sniffed, “need to stop calling yourself a fraidy cat,” as if I had publicly branded myself with a scarlet ‘F’ for brand failure.

I sank lower in my seat. I don’t remember much of what she said after that. Not that she said much more.

Her words echoed in my ears and mixed with words I had heard a few months earlier from another high powered blogger. You know, the kind who makes more in a month than I made the last year I worked full-time.

“People don’t care about that inspirational stuff you guys write. They want stuff that tells them how to live better cheaper. If you want to make a living, bump the inspirational stuff and write the how to’s.”  (Loosely paraphrased, mind you.)

All those words got mixed up in my head. My throat, my writing throat, got scratchy and dry. The word stealing wolf was upon me.

Courtesy A. Hughes

I was the last appointment for an obviously weary blog consultant widely known for his Google-fu. He makes a substantial living traveling and consulting, and I had finagled five minutes of his time.

I was scared to death. Already quaking because of the other two voices in my head that had made my throat scratchy and dry.

He turned his lack-luster, ‘is it the end of the conference and can I go home now’ eyes to my new web page. The one I still haven’t launched a year later.

His look became quizzical. “This is the best website I’ve seen all day. The absolute best. Hands down. Why do you call yourself a fraidy cat? You, my friend, are certainly no fraidy cat. You need to stop calling yourself that,”

He began to play around with my brand because he has earned the right, with his considerable Google-fu, to do so.

I was even wearier than he – only my weariness had been growing for a life time not just forty-eight hours. So, I smiled a smile as ineffective as worn out dishwater, and said simply, “Oh, but I am.”

And just like that, in the middle of a conference that was supposed

Courtesy D. Ahola

to empower me to blog *more better and enable me to make gobs of money, my voice abandoned me.

(*Apologies to all the grammar nerds for my obvious misuse of language. Take a pill. You’ll survive. I’m sure there are instructions on how to do so on Pinterest.)

If you are a fellow fraidy cat who used to follow me or a new one who has just discovered me, I want you to know – I get you. You don’t have to explain, justify, or qualify.  All fraidy cats are welcome here.

I think I found my voice again. But, I will be a whole lot braver if I don’t have to figure it out on my own. So, would you come back again? Maybe tomorrow? If that’s not too soon? 

If you know me, you know there is more to this story, and I'm not thru telling it.

Love you long and strong. Even when I didn’t have a voice to say so.

Ephesians 2:10 (NRSV)

For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.

Find Part 2 here.