Losing My Voice
Thoughts on silence and breaking out
For my entire life my strength, my joy, my job, and my calling have been connected to the actual use of my voice.
My literal voice- the one that comes out of my throat.
Whether on a stage or in a classroom, facilitating a meeting, meeting one on one, singing backup, or leading a congregation- it’s been my voice that has carried me.
For the last few years, I’ve traded my actual, physical voice for the one I present on paper.
I’ve only begun to realize how that’s affected me in ways I’m just beginning to understand.
My introverted self has always connected to words- reading them, crafting them, and writing them down. It made sense that after reeling from several personal traumas, leaving the religion of my childhood, weathering a pandemic, and moving to a town where no one would recognize me at the grocery store would inspire a deep desire to hide.
And so, I did.
And it was (in part) what I needed to heal. To duck between lines and pages. To feel as though I could close the book on the day the same way I put a bookmark in to hold my place. But the trade of my physical voice for the one in my head and the one on the page hasn’t always been a fair one. To me, that is.
I miss it and everything that came with it.
And I think I’m ready for it to return.
What’s Nourishing Me This Week?
I made an appointment with a new therapist. Am I thrilled? No. Haha. I will be honest in admitting that therapy has never really worked out for me to date. But it is nourishing to know that I am willing to make the steps necessary to live a full life.
My eldest daughter got my sister hooked on the Percy Jackson series, and to all our shock, I have never read it. It’s a delight to discover something together.
Mulligatawny Soup. I know. I have mixed feelings about it, too. It’s colonizer food. And it’s also delicious and incredibly comforting and I’m making it again for a friend for lunch tomorrow.
Every time I’ve asked myself, “What do they think?” this week, I’ve countered it with, “What do I think?” It has been a simple and life-changing narrative switch- especially in the field I’m in currently. Centering what I think and valuing it above others’ thoughts has been the most effective anxiety tool I’ve found to date.
Breakfast with friends. Phone dates with my sister. A local, independent bookstore. A trip to the farmer’s market. A return to the piano. A snuggle on the couch with my soon to be 7 year old. Life is terrible and good.