Losing My Words

Reclaiming language after months of isolation

When I was in eighth grade, I started taking Latin. Despite the fact that it’s a dead language, arguments about why to study Latin and how it benefits students have existed for decades in American education. Whether or not it has all the positive linguistic effects that teachers and parents want, Latin can be fun. It was for me, anyway. 

The biggest joy of my Latin education was translating long poems with a grammar guide and a New Oxford Latin Dictionary at my side. Many Latin words would have multiple English definitions, and the puzzle of figuring out the best, most sensible translation was an enjoyable game for me. 

Studying Latin vocabulary had the secondary effect of introducing odd English words into my vocabulary. Words like loquacious, pugnacious, and pulchritude worked their way into my vocabulary because of Latin. 

But over the past year and a half, I’ve lost more words than I’ve gained.  As my daily routine shrunk both in space and variety, I had fewer things to talk about. The lack of experiences outside of the general daily tasks of waking up, working, going to run an errand in the neighborhood, watching television, and going to bed hampered my ability to imagine futures where I’m not stuck in the same circle. 

Lockdown Loneliness

Before the onset of the lockdowns caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, I was working as an assistant for a large-scale indoor events company, and writing on the side for fun (and a small amount of money). For me and so many others, it wasn’t a question of if I would lose my job, but when. 

In early summer of 2020, I was jobless and trying to calculate which risks to take in order to see my family and friends. My meager earnings from freelance writing became my only source of income. Even as people got comfortable meeting up in parks once in a while, I was still spending most of my days alone and working on job applications or freelance writing work. I would go weeks without talking to anyone but my twin sister and my cat. The lack of interaction began to weigh me down. 

Although my friends who were still working complained about the constancy of video meetings, I longed for any face-to-face interaction, while dealing with the isolation of unemployment. When I did pick up a freelance assignment, all communication was over email.  Although there were video calls and happy hours with friends, many of them were exhausted by the computer and needed a break from constant video-to-video communication. On the other hand, I had no coworkers with whom to commiserate and experienced an antsiness that couldn’t be cured. 

I began to notice that when I did have an interview on a video call, I would get stuck in the middle of a sentence because I couldn’t figure out what word to say next. Even when I attempted to explain my work history (with which I am extremely familiar), I would forget a word like “adaptable” or “responsible” or even “spreadsheet.” There were missing building blocks in the structure of what I was trying to say. 

I kept experiencing this semiotic breakdown in the triangle of reference. I forgot descriptive words, proper nouns, and objects. In my head, I had the reference, and I knew the symbol, but it couldn’t translate to my speech. When I talked to my twin sister (with whom I lived for the pandemic and still live now), these lexical gaps in my speech didn’t matter as much because we have a shorthand conversation style that allows us to fill in missing pieces once in a while. 

My speaking difficulties soon cropped up in my writing. I would find myself writing longer sentences, talking around a word that I couldn’t remember. Writing became a huge struggle because I hate repeating words, but I couldn’t come up with new words and kept forgetting ones I once used effortlessly. After a meeting, I would try for hours to remember the word I’d forgotten and try to nail it down. I felt like I had lost so much of my ability to communicate. Since I couldn’t remember the words, I also couldn’t look them up and try to fix the problem. 

Retraining My Brain 

The lack of daily person-to-person interaction took a huge toll on my ability to communicate. Although it feels like almost everyone in the world (except for the ultra-wealthy) was dealt a terrible hand, I can only speak to the pain of confinement. 

One of the best ways to invigorate the brain is to expose it to new experiences and build new habits. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been easy for the last year and a half. I settled into a hard routine  and it was impossible to break out because of the pandemic.  

Since I got vaccinated, I’ve started seeing friends in person.  I always feel more at ease talking to someone in-person, because I can see their micro-reactions that are lost in stilted video chat software. Additionally, I flow past forgotten words instead of getting stuck on a lexical gap and pausing the conversation. When someone is in front of me physically, it’s easier to get out of my own head. It is still very hard to make new connections, but I’m trying as much as I can so I don’t lose my words in conversation again. 

I’m working full-time these days  and settling into a different routine (one with video calls), but I’m still looking for ways to  reintroduce the lost words into my writing. I rediscovered the trivia website freerice.com and I have spent hours on vocabulary quizzes on there, just like I did in high school. 

Another way to rediscover old words and find new ones is to dive into academic writing. Although people often make fun of academics for using arcane and complicated language, it serves my purposes perfectly. I dusted off my old books from college and graduate school, and then attempted to decode the use of words like “hermeneutics” and “subjectivation.”. Many of the complex, five-dollar words that come up in these books are polysyllabic Latin nightmares—which to me, is an engrossing challenge. 

Writing articles and short pieces came back more easily. Even if the words were simple, I had more control over the presentation and I could spend time on the words to make them make sense. Video calls are still a major part of my work life because offices remain closed, so in-person meetings are still so much more precious to me. Feeling someone’s energy inspires more words for me; speaking with someone face-to-face is even better. One of my best friends is immuno-compromised, so the few times I’ve been able to see her in person post-vaccination have set me off with uncontainable excitement through an endless stream of spoken thoughts that she volleys right back at me. It’s a grim reminder of the time we’ve lost over the past year and a half. It’s possible she’s heard all of my stories before, but she listens, and so do I. 

The most frustrating aspect of  forgetting words is that I can’t track what I’ve forgotten. The only hope I have is to break up routines and create new connections and neural pathways. I wrote an article about the Comics Code Authority over the summer that activated my excitement for discovery in a way I hadn’t felt in a while. Reading about truly weird comics history reminded me why I love comics and why I love writing. I wanted to include every fun and weird fact I found about the CCA, and the first draft flew out in about an hour. I didn’t pause on any forgotten words. 

I also recently read Jane Eyre for the first time in conjunction with the podcast On Eyre as a way to escape my routine. Jane has to navigate a world of oppressive customs and manners, trying to forge a path where she can find intellectual stimulation and break free from a system that threatens to force her brain into submission.  Even if it’s a tenuous connection, I do feel Jane’s resistance to demure, obedient womanhood is something I can strive to emulate through seeking out newness. 

Whether it’s by reading about experiences radically different from my own, and traveling outside of my neighborhood (within reason), I have begun to  stimulate new words and memories that are making language fun again.  I have to accept what I’ve lost and trust those words will return as I continue to surround myself with written language, conversation, and the joy of building stories with words. 

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Julia Rittenberg is a Brooklyn-based writer with a love of all weird words . She is a contributor at Book Riot, a reviewer at Booklist, and a general collector of odd jobs. Her favorite way to engage with media these days is with her twin sister and her cat so they can all give a running commentary.

Hi writer friends—Britany, here. A big thank you to Julia for that lovely essay on the experience of losing and reclaiming words.

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Britany