The Time I Lost (and Found) My Voice

Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to say how I felt. It’s not that my mom and dad instructed me not to talk about my feelings. It was more of a subconscious understanding that how I felt didn’t matter.

Between their arguing and fighting, and our financial troubles, no one cared that the kids at school called me “cabbage patch kid” or that I didn’t have enough money to buy anything other than a chocolate chip cookie for lunch. (Even all these years later, I can still feel the cookie’s wax paper wrapper and the sand like crumbs on my fingertips.)

I went all through high school a good student but terrified of being called on in class. When the teacher asked a question, my stomach churned and my throat tightened up. What did I have to say anyway? My life at home was all about making sure my mother was happy and my siblings were cared for. No one at school could relate to that, or so I thought.

After receiving a college scholarship, I became a little more confident and started to speak up a bit. I’d ask questions in class and sit in the front row, hoping the professors would call on me. I also started to make a few friends.

One friend, with whom I shared a love of music and mixtapes, would tease me relentlessly when I sang, saying I had a terrible voice. Looking back now I know his comments were nothing more than boy-like affection. But back then, his comments made me loathe my voice. I stopped singing in front of anyone. Heck, I wouldn’t even sing to myself.

Then, a scary thing happened. In my mid 20s, I went for a physical check up. The doctor felt my neck and discovered that I had thyroid nodules. They turned out to be benign, but I was terrified nonetheless. It was the first time I had anything physically wrong with me.

I dove head first into researching why I’d have thyroid nodules at such a young age. Sure, there were possible genetic or environmental causes, but it was something I read about the emotional cause of thyroid issues that sent a chill up my spine.

My boyfriend’s mother had given me Louise Hay’s book, Heal Your Life, where she describes the emotional causes for just about every physical ailment you can think of. Desperate to know why I had thyroid trouble, I flipped through the book and my index finger traced the appropriate page until it stopped abruptly on:

ailment: thyroid

emotional cause: when is it my turn?

I was stunned. Did Louise Hay know me? Did she know about my emotionally absent parents and my lack of self-confidence? Did she know about my lost voice?

When is it my turn? 

I repeated this question multiple times. I said it louder and louder and louder until I was yelling it, screaming it. Before long, I was sobbing.

To survive my traumatic childhood, I shut down my voice. I closed off my throat. Being small and quiet felt safe. If I didn’t make too much noise, I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. And in a house full of loud, violent people, being tucked away and silent was how my subconscious, emotional brain made sure we survived.

Over the last 20 years, I have done immense inner work to find my voice. I’ve also become self-aware of when I’m shutting down. When that happens, my throat gets tight and achy.

Through traditional therapy, yoga, meditation, Holotropic breathwork, singing, and journaling, I released much of the energy that was locked in my throat chakra. I also had cathartic healing when I wrote my book Rise Above the Story.

Imagine how beautiful and empowering it was when Amazon, who owns Audible, bought the audio rights to my book and paid me to narrate it. They couldn’t imagine anyone else reading my book but me. The coach I hired to teach me a few things before recording at Audible told me that I was such a natural, that I should narrate other books.

And just this week, Rise Above the Story became an Amazon No. 1 bestseller! Not too shabby for a girl who used to be scared of her own voice.

I hope this will inspire you to uncover your voice and use it for your growth and empowerment. If you want to learn more about the three-step formula I used to heal myself from my childhood trauma and find my voice, I encourage you to listen to the Audible version of my book. 

Here’s to us all healing from the past and speaking our truth.

With love and light,