These days I’m coughing and croaking my way back to life.
After pneumonia, my voice feels like a stranger’s. It cracks, it croaks, it occasionally gives up altogether. For someone whose craft depends on sound, that’s humbling. But I’m learning to embrace it—this imperfect, rough-edged version of myself.
Because isn’t that life? We stumble, we cough, we croak our way through the hard parts, and we find a way to keep going. The world doesn’t wait for us to heal, but maybe it doesn’t need to. Maybe we can meet it where we are, scars and all.
My lady says I can’t stop, and she’s probably right. My regular listeners have likely picked up on it, too—I’m a workaholic, but only when the work feels worthwhile. That’s the catch. When it matters, when there’s a story to tell or an idea to shape, I lean in. Hard. Even when my body says no.
Here’s my question: How do you keep going when your voice—literal or metaphorical—isn’t what it used to be? What do you rely on? And any remedies for a croaky voice?
Let me know in the comments and check out more at jamesbrowntv.substack.com.
On that note, I’m James Brown, and as always, be well.
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