Reclaiming My Voice

When I moved to California, it was prophesied over me that I was getting my voice back. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but it resonated deeply. When had I lost it? How? In what way was I getting it back?—singing, writing, speaking?

I didn’t realize (until tonight) that I had been hiding my voice behind the mask of my own perfection. I had been holding up an image with my face on it that I thought everyone wanted to see. But, really, I was the only one worshipping it.

Behind the scenes, I ignored and abused the real me. I shut her up and told her she didn’t matter. She didn’t deserve my patience or attention. She wasn’t beautiful or interesting enough to come forth. She had better just stay quiet and stay out of the way.

Truly, though, I was afraid of her.

I saw her power and her potential, and I didn’t know what to do with it. Her free spirit and wild curiosity didn’t fit into the tidy little blueprint that had been drawn for me by my community. What would they say if they saw how different she was? And, how would I control her if she broke loose? It was easier to just play it safe.

But, fear makes a terrible tyrant. As I’ve learned to chase away fear with love—loving and accepting myself in each moment—the mask has fallen off and the weight has been lifted.

Now that I’m listening to my own voice again, I’m able to share it freely again, too. It feels so good.