Oh boy, speech is my jam 🤗 so many ideas and voices swimming around in my head: which ones will congeal and manifest into perfect forms? Probably none of them 🙃 but seriously, this is a subject that could go in so many directions. What stands out to me at the moment is this one little girl that I work with. She’s diagnosed with selective mutism. I don’t particularly care for the label, because she didn’t select this. She didn’t choose to have her voice silenced. She is a precious little child, with deep anxiety and pain, which is evident in her demeanor and response to social interaction. I suspect trauma, although I have no solid proof. I cannot access her experiences or perceptions of her world through speech/articulation. However, despite her silence, I hear her. I hear (in part) what is stuck. I listen deeply to what isn’t intentionally expressed. I study her face and her body language. I observe her actions and reactions with great care and curiosity. Through her lack of speech, I come to know her. I form the tools she needs to extend herself outward, to know and to be known-to connect with her world. She is currently learning to use an AAC (augmentative and alternative communication) app/device to interact. And even with this, she struggles. She hesitates. She stutters in silence. She is unsure of herself. Her voice is in exile. And I, the therapist, along with all of the capable people in her life, are tasked with drawing her self out of herself. What an enormous responsibility and privilege! This is the tikkun. This is the tachlis: help her find and liberate her kol. Many of my colleagues understand this mission, but not all are equipped to complete it. I, myself, feel inadequate to heal her. Her struggle teaches ME/teaches US that we are interconnected. We are not islands. We need each other. When I am feeling alone on this journey, I withdraw. What irony! Why do I withdraw? Am I having a pity party or am I seeking fellowship with my Creator? Maybe a bit of both, but as you say, this is all for the good. My time alone restores my sense of self…a kind of recalibration. Then, when I am feeling rejuvenated and inspired, I become as an open vessel, allowing oil to flow. It cannot be bottled up. It should not be bottled up. These sages and their sefers…they are like oil, for they contain words of encouragement and hope: “Behold. How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious oil upon the head, coming down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard, coming down upon the edge of his robes.”
The exile of speech is very deep. It explains why desired articulation doesn't manifest, thereby keeping secrets hidden
Oh boy, speech is my jam 🤗 so many ideas and voices swimming around in my head: which ones will congeal and manifest into perfect forms? Probably none of them 🙃 but seriously, this is a subject that could go in so many directions. What stands out to me at the moment is this one little girl that I work with. She’s diagnosed with selective mutism. I don’t particularly care for the label, because she didn’t select this. She didn’t choose to have her voice silenced. She is a precious little child, with deep anxiety and pain, which is evident in her demeanor and response to social interaction. I suspect trauma, although I have no solid proof. I cannot access her experiences or perceptions of her world through speech/articulation. However, despite her silence, I hear her. I hear (in part) what is stuck. I listen deeply to what isn’t intentionally expressed. I study her face and her body language. I observe her actions and reactions with great care and curiosity. Through her lack of speech, I come to know her. I form the tools she needs to extend herself outward, to know and to be known-to connect with her world. She is currently learning to use an AAC (augmentative and alternative communication) app/device to interact. And even with this, she struggles. She hesitates. She stutters in silence. She is unsure of herself. Her voice is in exile. And I, the therapist, along with all of the capable people in her life, are tasked with drawing her self out of herself. What an enormous responsibility and privilege! This is the tikkun. This is the tachlis: help her find and liberate her kol. Many of my colleagues understand this mission, but not all are equipped to complete it. I, myself, feel inadequate to heal her. Her struggle teaches ME/teaches US that we are interconnected. We are not islands. We need each other. When I am feeling alone on this journey, I withdraw. What irony! Why do I withdraw? Am I having a pity party or am I seeking fellowship with my Creator? Maybe a bit of both, but as you say, this is all for the good. My time alone restores my sense of self…a kind of recalibration. Then, when I am feeling rejuvenated and inspired, I become as an open vessel, allowing oil to flow. It cannot be bottled up. It should not be bottled up. These sages and their sefers…they are like oil, for they contain words of encouragement and hope: “Behold. How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious oil upon the head, coming down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard, coming down upon the edge of his robes.”
Is there a possibility to have your e-mail to ask you a question please? Thanks a lot !