Judgemental Singers

This is me singing. 

I am a singer. I have sung forever and I love it. On many occasions I openly attribute singing with saving my life and keeping me sane. Because, unlike other instruments, singing comes from somewhere deep in ones soul, singing gives voice to emotions in a way which playing an external instrument can not. Every vocal instrument has it's own unique sound, which is perhaps why people get so nervous about singing. Yet people have sung since forever, for countless reasons and for no reason at all. Everyone can sing, and most people do at some point in their lives. But a real 'singer' is someone who sings all the time, who feels sad if they don't sing for a day or so, who sings along to everything simply because that's what they do, they literally can't help it. Singing is a part of them and a part of what they do. For a singer, the act of really singing, is freedom in it's purest form.

I want my daughter to sing, I can't wait to hear her voice when she does. Sometimes I sit her on my lap at the piano and sing songs which she sometimes 'sings' along to. Ok, so she might make more of a drawn out "aaaah" sound, but I like to think she's joining in. She certainly seems to be enjoying it.

But, much as I want her to be a singer, to get lessons, join choirs and to sing all that she can, I am worried. Because it has been my experience, that singers, are the most judgemental of all the musicians. Of those judgemental singers, the most bitchy are the trained singers, and strangely enough, the most arrogant, are the ones who have "never had a lesson".

This is an interesting paradox which I have come across time and time again, and am finding increasingly frustrating.

So why is this post on my 'mummy' blog? 

Because this is a future my daughter is very likely to be entering into, and while I'll be thrilled if she does turn out to be a 'singer', the thought of her becoming this judgemental makes me sad, and thought of the judgement coming her way makes my stomach turn.

Let me explain.

We judge each other for singing too softly, having too much air in our tone, or not having enough breath support. 

For being too tense, too slouchy, putting an H before a vowel, for putting a glottal stop before a vowel, for singing the same vowel different ways, for singing all the vowels the same.

For over singing, under singing, not enough diction or for over pronouncing words. 

We judge other singers for not interpreting the song 'correctly', for not singing loud enough, for being too nasal, for not using enough nasality.

For yelling, for using too much vibrato, for not having vibrato or for not holding that final note quite as long as we could have held it.

We sit in polite silence when someone gets the solo that

 'should have been ours', 

and whisper to the singer next to us about how we can't stand the way another singer sings.

When a successful singer 'screws up' their live performance, my facebook page becomes riddled with comments about how useless they are. If a performer gets outed for singing to a click track, everyone starts talking about how they can't sing. If a new singer appears out of nowhere and shoots to fame, singers everywhere start to tear them down, to dish out backhanded criticisms:

"I'm sure they are a really nice person, but they really can't sing."

"What a horrible voice."

"Can't you hear their vibrato? It's terrible!"

"Omg, I can't stand the way they have no tone."

"They must have really rich parents, because there's no way they got where they are because of their voice."

It seems ridiculous to me, that when singers share such a visceral and primal need to use our voice for song, and can understand each other in a way non-singers can not, that we continue to sit on our high horses, acting as though we alone, are the be all and end all of musical taste and knowledge and know-how. That somehow we are the voice above all others, and are not only able to, but feel that we should ensure, that everyone else knows that they. are. not.

I have now been teaching singing for four years, and I have been taught different singing techniques by numerous different teachers over nearly 20 (yikes, really?!) years. I am not a perfect singer, but you know what? I don't know what a perfect singer is. There are very few people who come through my door who aren't as passionate about singing as I am. Who don't live and breath singing, and who haven't come to me because they are searching for something they know they have but can't find. To sing higher, louder, stronger, longer.

I do know, that for years and years my voice was trapped inside me because of fear, lack of training (yes, that hideous thing that means I cannot say my voice is 'my own' and unaltered), and general lack of belief. I knew that I could sing better than I was singing, but I struggled for years to actually find it. Sometimes I even dreamed that I was singing with nothing holding me back, that I had finally learnt how to free it. And when I finally found the teacher who was able to show me how to unlock it, I finally felt that feeling of utter freedom, and knew that finally, I found my true voice.

MY. 

TRUE. 

VOICE.

So when another singer brings someone else down for using their true voice, it makes my skin crawl.

Does it matter if someone is successful and 'making it' in a singing career if they do things less than perfect? Does it matter if they have a breathy tone or a husky voice? Does it matter if they never sing above a G4 or use too much vibrato? They are the ones who have 'made it'. They are the ones who have achieved what every, single, one of us dreams of. Why must we make ourselves feel better by convincing ourselves that we are more worthy of their success than they are?

What about you 'untrained' singers who make the self righteous claim 'I've never had a lesson' repeatedly, as though having a lesson means you are less of a true singer. Does having a singing lesson mean your voice is no longer pure? No longer your own? Does it mean that you don't deserve success because clearly you couldn't sing to start with? 

What gives you, the trained or untrained singer down the road, the right to say this about anyone else?

"I'm sorry, but they just can't sing."

Really? They can't sing? What do you mean when you say that? More importantly, why are you saying it?

I sing because I love it and I have a need to do so. 

I took lessons because I knew my true voice wasn't yet free and I wanted to find it. 

I would rather die than be made to stop singing. It's a part of me. Just as it is a part of every singer.

So why can't we all stop talking behind each others backs, and start singing to each others faces?

29 weeks - antenatal

Ok, I think it's fair to say that this is getting pretty difficult now. Physically, and mentally it is taking quite a toll. At the start, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle it because of all my anxiety and panic attack issues, but I've surprised myself on that front. For the most part, any anxiety I have had has been pregnancy related, and fairly normal concern about effects on the baby. I haven't been in a constant state of unrestrained panic or fear, like I imagined I would be. I haven't been freaking out and feeling like there is an alien living inside me, that something abnormal is happening and I might die at any minute. I have made it through some pretty extreme panic situations without taking my normal calming miracle pills. I certainly haven't been wishing it would all go away constantly, and I definitely haven't gone crazy. Yet.

Perhaps that is all about to end, I don't know. All I do know, is that the last month has been hard. At first I wasn't sure if I was hormonal or actually getting legitimately depressed. I couldn't tell if I was just wanting to hide at home because I was actually tired, or if I was making excuses because I am becoming increasingly self conscious about my changing appearance. I decided to wait it out. Figuring that things would get better. But they didn't. They got worse.

Last week I had a complete break down. I got teary, irritable, exhausted, couldn't sleep, couldn't be bothered getting up, getting dressed, or even eating properly. I desperately, desperately wanted it to be over. I must have had a baby growth spurt, because suddenly I can't put on my shoes, I can't bend, or reach for things, and even my husband reckoned I'd grown one afternoon. Literally, bigger since that morning apparently.

I have been rude to friends, basically my inner monitor or think before texting/speaking seems to have vanished. I simply can't be bothered being tactful right now. I don't want to leave the house. I feel like everyone's eyes are constantly on me. I feel like the elephant in the room....which isn't far from the truth as far as I'm concerned. For someone who had pretty severe Social Anxiety right from 11 years old to mid twenties, these things are a big deal. I like to be invisible. I like to go about my day and not be noticed. I like to not be the topic of conversation. It is honestly, extremely disconcerting to suddenly find that I am public property.

Physically, things are tougher, walking is harder, and much slower than it should be. Sleeping with less than three pillows under my head makes the blood pound in my skull regardless of which way I am sleeping. Leg cramps can wake me biting back a scream, and the pain lingers for days afterwards. Sometimes baby kicks so hard, I actually worry that my skin can't possibly hold it in any longer.

I delayed getting pregnant for ages because I was terrified of the labour and morning sickness. Turns out, the things that are bothering me most, aren't even things I had considered. I never thought about actually BEING pregnant. I'd worried about physical things, but hadn't even contemplated the mental strain.

Fair to say that I do have antenatal depression. Something I'd (stupidly) never even considered. I'd heard about postnatal depression, and been quite worried about that, but this? Washing and folding the baby clothes helps a bit. It lets me be a bit excited about what this hard work is leading up to. Perhaps I will start sleeping in the nursery to lift my mood. Oh, and we start antenatal classes tomorrow. That will hopefully be fun. In the meantime, here's a sad kitten.

10 things to never, ever say to a pregnant woman

There are many things that change when you are pregnant. Not just your body, your mindset, and your clothes. But also, apparently, the guidelines by which others are allowed to speak to you.

Below is a list of the ten weirdest, creepiest, and more than a little offensive and upsetting things that people feel OK saying to me since I got pregnant.

#10 Should you be eating that?

Now, this is offensive in two ways. Firstly, are you saying I'm fatter than I should be? Who gave you the right to judge anyway? And secondly, do you think I'm so heartless, that I don't think about what I'm eating almost constantly. Have you seen the list of foods to avoid when pregnant? Do you have any idea of the guilt trip placed upon pregnant women over eating almost everything from chicken, to subways to salad that hasn't been washed?! Back off.

#9 Hi Chubby

This was said in jest. He thought he was hilarious. I very nearly slapped him, but instead pointed out that I was unlikely to ever catch up to his stomach.

#8 How's the body holding up?

Said by another well-meaning man. But it's weird, and creepy. You don't, just don't ask a pregnant lady how the 'body' is holding up. What kind of answer are you after? A truthful one with all the gory details, "Not great actually, my back hurts, my boobs hurt, I pee when I cough, when I sneeze and when I laugh, I am waking up with leg cramps, and everything is aching 100% of the time. Oh, did you want to know about the constipation and haemorrhoids too?" I didn't think so. So just don't ask. 

#7 God, you're looking really pregnant today.

Thanks. I hadn't noticed. I certainly don't feel it. 

#6 But since you're pregnant, you're obviously NOT on antidepressants

I was so mad at this shop assistant that I fumed about this statement for the next two days. I wish that I'd said right there and then, "well actually, I am". The judgement in that one statement was astonishing. I'm sorry, I am taking medications for my sanity while pregnant. Yet, here I am in your health store clearly taking an interest in keeping myself and baby healthy. What do you make of that? Am I evil in your eyes now? Do you think me some kind of callous mother who only thinks of herself? Do you think I didn't spend months weighing up the pros and cons and researching EVERYTHING that could be found about taking this medication while pregnant???

Well fuck you too, lady.

#5 You're allowed to look bigger, you're pregnant.

I know you're trying to make me feel better, but really, you're not. Now I just feel fat for a reason.

#4 The more you gain now, the harder it is to lose later!

Thanks for the heads up. I'll try to remember that when I've been thinking of nothing but cheeseburgers for 36 hours straight. Or when I'm so ravenously hungry I literally can't think straight. It's all about getting back in shape afterall. Thanks for reminding me.

#3 No, you definitely CANNOT drink

This debate has happened in front of me a number of times now. Mostly it happens when I mention how much I'd like a drink. I certainly never actually asked for one. I am in the 'don't risk it' camp at the moment, but I think that, like most things, the alcohol consumption in pregnancy thing is a personal choice. Forcing your opinion on me, particularly when you have a glass of merlot in your hand, have never been pregnant, or (god forbid) are a GUY, is tantamount to saying "no, you cannot have an abortion, it's bad, you are a bad person if you do that", and then turning back to your child free life and ignoring the fact that you have kids you simply never see.

#2 You should be excited

I am excited. Are you kidding? I'm also in constant discomfort, have become some sort of magnet for people to stare at, am not sleeping and feel ugly and disgusting. Sorry that my excitement isn't showing through for you at every possible moment.

#1 Surely you can't have THAT long to go, you're HUGE!

Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean telling me I'm huge is a compliment. Would you say that to someone who wasn't pregnant? Why do you think saying it to a pregnant woman is going to have any less of a negative effect? I go home each day feeling more and more self conscious about how I am looking, precisely because of comments like this. Mostly they come from men. Bastards.

A Week of Weird

I'm at 21 weeks now, but apparently I am lying about that.
I know this, because during this week, four different teachers told me (in a variety of ways) that I looked much further along than I say I am.
Some of the best comments:
"You're only 21 weeks? Shouldn't you still be able to hide it?"
"You aren't due till september? You look like you've swallowed a basketball!"
And a beauty I heard second hand from students, "Miss is pregnant? I knew it! The rest of the class just thought she was really really fat."

These harmless comments, which were probably forgotten about the instant the perpetrators uttered them, have been my downfall this week.

On wednesday morning, I couldn't find a single thing to wear, everything made me look huge, I couldn't find anything that fitted. I was heading towards a disintegrating meltdown when Husband calmly directed me to 'go do my teeth' while he endeavoured to hunt for my one pair of pregnancy pants. In the end, I went to school in my stretchy gym pants and a t-shirt. Cleverly disguised as work pants with a nice jersey. Still, I spent all day worried that I looked enormous, and that every single person was sizing me up. Even today I was asked the wonderful question "Are you absolutely positive you are not having twins?"

On Tuesday I felt my first Braxton Hicks Contraction. It was really weird, I was just walking along, and then my tummy seized up. It didn't hurt, but I had to stop walking for a minute until it relaxed again. My midwife says these don't normally happen till later, but the google machine tells me a different story, and made me feel normal. So I am sticking with google for now.

Bubs is kicking and moving around a lot, still not strong enough to be felt on the outside, much to Husbands disappointment, nevertheless, I really enjoy feeling it, which is surprising, because for as long as I can remember, I have just expected that I would hate it. That it would feel alien and weird, and awful. I was actually really nervous about feeling it, but now that's all changed. I love it, I can sit for ages with my hand on the bump just waiting for the next one.

I am taking tomorrow off school, as I am absolutely exhausted. The discomfort of not being able to find a comfy position to sleep, the heartburn, the infrequent but painful round ligament pain, the swollen ankles and body that is already 7kg heavier than it was 5months ago, let alone the mood swing train, is taking it's toll in a big way right now.

At least I have my little kicker to keep me company! Maybe she'll be a soccer star!

Hands Off!

Just a note.
No woman I have ever met, likes having her tummy touched.
Not by family, not by friends, and not by strangers!
I don't know why this changes for some women when they are pregnant, but it hasn't changed for me!

Besides, at just about 13 weeks, I am somewhat offended that I am 'showing' at all.  I've spent years trying to hide my tummy, get rid of it, dress it up so it's disguised, and now what? I'm supposed to just be ok with it? Just like that?!

I don't think so.

I may well be in denial, but I don't think the belly I currently have is a baby bump. It's certainly not 'cute' as people are suddenly claiming. Pretty sure it's just a result of having to constantly eat to avoid throwing up. So telling me I am showing already, feels pretty much the same as it did when people asked if I was pregnant BEFORE I was pregnant.

Basically, I need a t shirt that say "Yes. I'm Pregnant. No. You cannot touch it!"

SMILE! BREATHE! Quickly move on!

To Show, or Not to Show?

One week away from our first proper scan, and people are already asking whether I'm 'keeping a secret from them', giving me eating advice, and suggesting what type of shirts I should wear.

This does not bode well.

To be honest, this has been a terribly kept secret from the start, but is it possible to be showing at just 11 weeks? I googled it, webmd' it, and searched the huggies forums, but no one had an answer.  I don't think I am showing, I'm pretty sure I've just got fat.

To make it worse, I am craving pies....and WINE!! - seriously, how is that fair? Obviously I am not drinking the wine, but the pie craving is slightly overwhelming.  I clearly don't stand a chance of coming out of this pregnancy with any semblance of my former self. But is that the point?

Before I got pregnant, one of my main reasons for not getting pregnant was a paralysing fear of labour.
Now, I'm excited about it because it will mean that this whole pregnancy business is OVER!

Once the scan (fingers crossed) tells me that there is definitely a baby in there, then I will put up some pics for you so you can compare and judge for yourself. Then I just have to tell my boss, and my students, and the facebook universe......oh the many things to think about!