Learning to Use Our Voices
Even if it looks different than we expected.
Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash
I wrote a whole chapter about my music background in Good Enough. I shared the grief I felt over giving up on singing because my voice was “just” middling-Taylor-Swift-ish instead of powerhouse-belt-like-Xtina. At that time, I had long sat in the shadow of some truly great talents, and instead of learning to love my own soft alto, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort it would take to be great.
I allowed perfectionism to drive out my passion.
The short of it is that (next to writing) music has been one of the great loves of my life. I sang in high school and during college at Georgia Southern University, where I was in the Women’s Choir, marching band, and pursued a music minor. There was so much about music I didn’t understand because it was mathematical, and I sucked at math. But I had a natural ear, like my brother, and a deep, persistent joy for the way music connected me to the world. I performed beautifully with an ensemble, but, try as I might, singing solo in college—where I was no longer a big fish in a little pond—gave me such terrible stage fright that after a few embarrassing mishaps (thank God social media didn’t exist in 2004) I gave up on trying to do anything with it.
I convinced myself that it was fine, that I was fine.
But I really wasn’t. I was terribly sad.
I turned my attention to the other great love of my life, writing, and soon discovered that it was a much better fit. I was thrilled by the realization that telling stories with the written word came more naturally to me. It didn’t feel as though I were slogging through it, trying to make myself into something I wasn’t, as it had with performing music.
I learned to use my voice in a different way, and it changed my whole life.
I bet you have a story like that, too, don’t you? You tried going down one path and, eventually, you hit a dead end. Maybe that path was enjoyable for awhile, with lovely views and soft afternoon sunshine, so coming to the end of it was that much more painful. Or maybe you never even got the chance to go down that path, and now you’re plagued by what-ifs.
Every new year, we’re tempted to look at those moments in our lives and examine them more closely. We love fresh starts. We love sloughing off the old and making plans and telling ourselves that this year, this time, we’re going to get it right.
But maybe…
maybe it’s time to let all of that go.
We were created for the cyclical nature of the earth. As the writer of Ecclesiastes so wisely stated, “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” (3:1, NKJV) This is the way were designed. And I have sneaking suspicion that if we continue trying to move into each new year weighed down by the same disappointments, losses, and burdens that we’ve been carrying for longer than we want to admit, we’re only going to add to the weight. Perhaps we should grant ourselves permission to put them all down.
It may be that this isn’t your year to try again, or push yourself, or find another route to the path you thought was yours.
It may be that this is your year to grieve, and, in doing so, discover that there is still a surprising amount of joy left to be had in the world.
I still get sad when I think about how I let fear of inadequacy drive my decision to move away from music. But I don’t regret letting it go because, truly, it wasn’t mine. I felt that somewhere in my spirit even though I couldn’t make myself say it. My only wish is that I’d have been able to walk away with the confidence of someone who can look at a thing, even a good thing, and recognize it’s time to say goodbye.
Maybe you can find the courage where I did not.
Nowadays, I still sing. I can’t help myself. But now my audience is the inside of my car (where I pretend to possess the vocal abilities of Hayley Williams), the bathtub, or my two children. Luckily enough, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to perform for all of them.
And every night, when my son lays down on his pillow and says, “Sing me a song,” I revel in the joy that my voice has finally found its place.
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Reading in The Nook
I posted a reel on Instagram with three of the books that have been filling my cup this past month. Details are in the caption.
For fiction, I devoured these two last week:
It’s a series about a struggling author and divorced mom of two who, unexpectedly and quite unwillingly—thanks to an overheard conversation in a Panera about the plot of her new novel—becomes an assasin-for-hire. These two books are funny mysteries, with lots of delightful hi-jinks and even a bit of romance, and I’m waiting with bated breath for the third and final novel in the series to release this month!
Links Lately
Lucy and I discovered Gabi’s Vintage this year, and she posts a vintage outfit every day from the collection she shares with grandmother. (I basically want to be her great-aunt Stella’s bestie.) It’s fashion and history all in one and we never miss a post.
“Which beautiful mysteries are out there in the dark?”
Happy New Year, friend!