Tongue Tied

What follows is my story of discovering I had a tongue-tie, and the effect it has had on my life. I hope in sharing this, it will bring more awareness to the musician community.

It In my early 20s, I realized there was tension in my shoulders. I assumed that I worked too hard. I was a student at IU and I never said no to a chance to play. My exuberance and joy for playing sometimes outpaced my energy, and occasionally it was too much. I would save my pennies earned at the music library to visit a massage therapist. I was told that I should try to relax a little bit. Do some stretching. Try to take it easy.

I finished school (for the first time). I then set off with my trumpet-playing boyfriend to Michigan. We both took day jobs while auditioning for orchestras. I took a job at a bank, and he at the call center for the Detroit Symphony. Life wasn’t so bad; we both found freelance work and taught. My boyfriend’s job had the perk of free tickets to any symphony concert we wanted. My job at the bank was not awful, they were flexible when I needed to take time off for playing.

There was one problem with this setup. To win a job, one must either double-tongue or have an absurdly fast single tongue. My single tongue is pretty fast. But, it isn't absurdly fast. I couldn't double-tongue for more than one or two seconds. All auditions included the Marriage of Figaro, in which you have to double-tongue for an excruciating long period of time. Feels like eternity. I spent years trying to double-tongue. I did every possible exercise; I consulted other musicians. I practiced for hours and hours and hours. I tried my standard method of forcing things into reality. Nothing worked. I would walk into auditions, knowing I couldn't play the excerpt, hoping they would hear my musicality despite the technical issues. Obviously, this never happened. My early years of playing bassoon were filled with successes. Those successes were bit by bit pushed to the recesses of my memory as this new reality barged in. I was crushed. Playing and performing were my joy. My access was restricted. The joy I knew before began to elude me.

So, after working through this crisis, I again found not my joy, but my determination. I realized this path wasn't going to work. That said, I knew deep down that a standard orchestra job wasn’t for me. I went back to school to get my doctorate, so that I could teach and do chamber music. During my doctorate, I realized that I had problems with my embouchure. I would tire easily, so I had to play on reeds that were light to survive the music I was playing. These lighter reeds never had the sound that I wanted on my bassoon, projection was difficult, and I felt almost ashamed of my sound. I forced myself to play on harder reeds. I had to train for concerts like I was running a marathon. I had to slowly build up until I could survive the whole concert. Embouchure fatigue plagued me. This tensed my shoulders. I began to have painful back spasms that lasted for days. My source of joy was riddled with difficulties. I would receive monthly massages from a talented massage therapist. This helped keep the worst at bay. However, no matter what, the tension would stay. No one told me this wasn't normal.

For several years, I coped with a back that would often spasm and freeze. I began to have difficulties sitting upright for long periods of time. My life-long TMJ became so severe that I would grind through my mouth guard. I found one of the best physical therapists in town. He tried his best to uncover my problem. He couldn't. His hypothesis was that my issue stemmed from how I moved.

I eventually began therapy to process old traumas. I also started the Alexander Technique to learn about my movement. Both of these helped; I rarely had spasms anymore. Despite this relief, I still had a lot of tension in my body. My primary care doctor noticed how tense my shoulders were and suggested acupuncture. It didn’t help at all. My doctor shamed me for having tension in my body. Why aren't you taking care of yourself? she asked. I didn't know what to answer. I was taking care of myself. I changed doctors.

At this point in my life, the tension became a puzzle. The amount of tension didn't seem to correlate to my life. In the past decade, I learned much about my specific needs. I know how to set boundaries most of the time, and I know what I can do and what I can't. I know my limits, and while I sometimes push myself, I do it, conscious of what I am doing. I know how to manage the very creative, anxious voice in my head. I think I take pretty good care of myself. I found joy again in playing. So why was the tension still there? 

Then, one day. I was trying to teach my son how to blow a bubble with bubble gum. He couldn’t manipulate the gum around his tongue, and I thought, huh. That is strange. I googled tongue-ties. A tongue tie is when the tongue is tethered to the bottom of the mouth. One can have a mild tongue tie, and it causes no problems. Google said severe tongue ties can cause all sorts of issues. I compared the pictures online to Julian's tongue. His tongue tie seemed pretty severe. Then I read the symptoms: tension in shoulders and neck. TMJ. Sleep problems. Anxiety. Swallowing problems. I went through the list and either Julian or I hit almost every point. Could I have a tongue tie? It couldn’t be. I play a wind instrument. I have pretty good flexibility in my tongue. It cannot be. I will check, just in case. So, I had a consultation with the expert, and she confirmed that I had a tongue tie. So, with some hesitation on my side, we set an appointment to have it cut.

My son had his tongue-tie release before mine. Not much pain, his snoring stopped, and he no longer had food issues. That reassured me a bit, and I kept my appointment. I researched. The risk of side effects seemed minimal. The worst-case scenario was that it wouldn’t make any difference. Ignoring the fear that it would impede my playing, I prepared myself for the procedure.

The procedure itself was fast, and no worse than any dental procedure. Unbearable pain in my face, jaw, and ears accompanied me for hours after the numbing agent wore off. This subsided to a dull pain, which was manageable. I then noticed that much of the tension in my shoulders had vanished. It was easier to turn my neck from side to side. I could swallow without this funny click every time; it was one smooth movement. There was still some tension, but the stiff, wooden tension was gone. My sinuses were clearer than they had been in decades. I couldn’t believe it.

My doctor authorized playing on day three. I was curious to see if anything was different. I expected more ease in articulation; perhaps I could finally double tongue. After not playing for five days, I picked up my bassoon. My choice of reeds was one old and easy. Breathe. Play. Ease. I soon realized the reed I chose was too light, and soaked another. The feeling of lightness and ease remained. I didn't want to over-tax my tongue and mouth, so I set a time for 25 minutes. The time flew by. My breathing was easier, more fluid. I didn’t have to hyper-focus on breathing right, it happened without much effort. My embouchure didn’t burn after a few minutes of playing, something I have never experienced in my life. Double-tonguing. Double-tonguing. I am slow, but it is there. It's different. I can make the correct consonants with my tongue, where before I couldn't.

I am writing this a week after the procedure. The tension has not returned. The opposite. The tension that remained starts to melt away. My posture, while never bad because I willed myself into good posture, continues to improve. Without any effort on my part. This is the amazing part. This is the difference. I had no idea that my body and my work were being restricted. That playing the bassoon could feel, easy. The majority of the tension in my body wasn't caused by me, it was the tongue-tie. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I am still in a bit of shock and continue to be cautious. I am waiting to cry, to be mad, to feel relief; I just feel shock and amazement.

The story is not done. I need to continue with physical therapy to learn how to move, as if for the first time. As I already practice Alexander Technique, I have a head start. I have to do tongue stretches three times a day. No one, not no one, is allowed to see these, they look absolutely ridiculous.

I am sharing my story for several reasons. Tongue-ties are essentially unknown outside the breastfeeding community. I see that starting to change in the singing community. The only reason I thought of it was because of breastfeeding my son. I want to help spread the word that excess tension can be a result of a tongue-tie. Fun fact, midwives used to keep a long, sharp nail in case they delivered a baby with a tongue-tie. This knowledge was lost when women were tossed out of the birthing process. For teachers and musicians, especially wind players: if you or a student struggle with air, articulation, or shoulder tension, you may have a tongue-tie. If it seems that there might be some tongue restriction, it is worth it to be assessed. I will link a few resources underneath.

The Book “Tongue Tied” by Richard Baxter

Mayo Clinic info on tongue-ties. Here.

Tongue-Tie Support group on Facebook. Here.

Where I had the procedure done: Here.