Something happens when you start to use your voice…especially if you have tended to watch quietly in the past. People don’t know what to make of it. They are shocked, saddened, disappointed, proud, impressed…all of the things. I think there is a level, when you finally treat longstanding social anxiety, that people feel that maybe they didn’t really know you before, and that is painful. That is not really the case…it’s not that they didn’t know you, it’s just that there are parts of you that even you didn’t know existed. There is a courage and a voice…a willingness to speak…that just wasn’t accessible to you before.
And at first, it is vulnerable and hard and scary for everyone. It’s like learning to speak for the first time. There are moments of teary frustration when you don’t feel like people have understood the purpose behind using your voice – moments of pride when you finally communicate something successfully, and so many little nuanced lessons in how to -and how not to – form your words.
But after a while, it gets easier. People grow accustomed to hearing your voice and it’s not so jarring. People realize that, even though you may sound different, you are still the same person that they loved before…People grow accustomed to the fact that even though you may now have made your differences clear, you still share a fundamental love and respect for one another.
It is hard fought. It is fraught with tears and sleepless nights and knots that take up seemingly permanent residence within your stomach. But it is worth it.
You have a voice. There is a cost to sharing it…but there is also a cost to silencing it. At some point, one will outweigh the other.
“True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness.” – Brené Brown
Photo by Jason Rosewell on Unsplash
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