Finding My Voice
Several years ago, when on vacation with my husband and our children we found our way into a little boutique with a large selection of magnets with funny as well as thoughtful quotes on them. I found one that captured my attention and purchased it. When I got it home, I stuck it right on the front of my refrigerator with the rest of my magnet collection. I have looked at it often and yet not really seen it. You know how you can grow so accustomed to seeing something that it seems to almost disappear? One morning as I was grabbing some creamer from the fridge I saw the magnet, I read it, and I was awestruck. It was as if on that morning I saw it again for the very first time. The magnet reads; Find your voice then listen to it. Even when it shakes. Especially then.
I am learning to listen to my own voice. I am learning to use my voice. When I was younger, I might have wanted to use my voice for recognition or accolades now at the midway point I realize my voice is most important for me as I process through my life events, and I move forward with more honesty and authenticity.
When I was a little girl, we traveled 10 miles to the neighboring town to attend the Nazarene church having not been satisfied with the churches in our small rural village. My father, a salesman whose territory encompassed four states, went to church with my mother, brother, and I on Sundays. But because my dad was usually on the road during the week, it was the just the three of us who attended the Wednesday evening services. The Wednesday night crowd was a smaller and the children were allowed to play in the basement during this more casual service. My brother and I joined them for our first few Wednesday nights, and it was so much fun. We laughed and played in the nursery with all the toys and made-up games as kids are so good at doing. At some point, after one of these Wednesday nights services my mother scolded me on the way home saying, “your voice carries, and the only sound I heard coming up from the basement was you.” She then said I was no longer able to play with the other children. I had to stay in the service upstairs with the adults while all my friends played in in the basement below. I have no memory of what this meant for Chad, my brother, I only remember that I was singled out from my friends because of my voice.
This became the seminal event that began my lifelong effort to quiet my own voice.
Now I am not sure that my voice was louder than my fellow church friends. I am not even convinced that only my voice carried all the way up the concrete stairwell that connected the dimly lit, cold cement block basement to the sanctuary. Maybe it was that my mother’s ears were tuned to pick up my voice. It is possible that for her hearing my voice wafting up the basement stairs was a source of embarrassment. As an internalizer, I was beginning to understand that my voice was more of a liability than an asset.
In Dr. Lindsay Gibson’s book, “Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents,” she describes the coping strategies children of this type of parents use. Children, she posits, become either internalizers or externalizers. I fall into the first category. Internalizers take in everything, noticing things that others simply do not see. They take the information in and try to solve the problem from the inside out. They assume that by recognizing and learning from their mistakes they can make things better. They just need to try harder, learn more, be more aware of their surroundings and so on. In other words, they make any difficulty they encounter their own problem rather than placing the blame where it belongs.
As an internalizer, then, my voice was the problem. It was too loud, it “carried.” As I grew this became a reality that was reinforced over and over. I was overlooked for parts in plays in Jr. High and High School while at the same time I received poor grades in conduct for my voice. A voice that seemed to “carry” in the classroom but did not “carry” on the stage. When I read for a coveted part in the Jr. Class Play, I read it quietly and without expression. I realize now that I was toning myself down as I had learned to do. I missed out on that opportunity, not because I wasn’t as talented a thespian as my classmates but because I silenced myself.
This is what can happen when you lose your confidence in your own voice. I went off to college and did well. I started to find my voice again in the safety of my Christian college community. I married and became a pastor’s wife and I my voice softened. Old insecurities were rearing their unwelcomed heads again. And this cycle continued repeatedly. I would find myself in a place where I started to let my voice out and then something would happen; an unkind word said, a sideways glance, a feeling of being overlooked and just like that, I am back in the hard wooden pew sitting quietly while my friends laughed and played below in the basement.
To say that I have been my own worst enemy, although true enough, would really be to admonish that little girl in the pew sitting quietly on Wednesday evenings. That child who was simply understanding things as best she could. I can see that now being a parent myself. Unfortunately, I learned that my voice was not something I should listen to, not something to share, not something to celebrate but something to tamp down and ignore.
This breaks my heart for that little girl who was simply trying to navigate an adult world in which she was ill equipped to handle. I understand that I am no longer that younger self who is afraid to speak. I am an adult working through these early negative messages with a fully functioning adult brain capable of much more sophisticated perspective taking. I am free to accept a different version of myself than the one I internalized all those years ago. I can choose to listen to my voice. I can decide when and how to use my voice. Even when it is shakes, especially then.