on the power of our voices

Apr 10, 2013 | Life in Progress

Currently in love with this moment.

I can see it now. How I’ve gave away pieces of my voice these last couple of years. Subtle, over time, a little here, and a little there. You know how we don’t realize what we had until it’s gone or until it returns? Yes, it feels like that. Earlier this year, when I could feel my confidence coming back, I recognized my voice again – a lovely, most welcomed thankyoujesus gift. Oh, there you are: there’s your spark, your funny, your wise, calm self. How nice to see you again. I. Have. Missed. You.

I don’t believe we lose our voices, but rather we give them away

And I can see now – the very exact, specific moment when I began to give mine away.

It was a birth that confused my spirit – a hard reconciliation of being the day my beautiful son was born, but also a day that prompted a post traumatic response which then prompted the unraveling of my voice. Strange – beautifully strange – how our greatest teachers are often single, heart aching, slow-motion moments where we begin the dance of either losing (giving away) ourselves or finding ourselves. I could write an entire book about that pivotal moment.

We all have those pivotal moments, don’t we? They are the moments that break us open. They are our greatest teachers.

After the birth, I fell in love with my son, fell into new motherhood. Add in the intense demands of a business growing exponentially around me, and I I made the mistake (one of my best mistakes for all it has turned out to teach me) of simply not giving myself the time I needed to recover my voice and confidence that was shaken.

Instead, I just kept going, like a machine.

Managing deadlines. Growing my biz. Being a mom and spending as much possible time with my baby. When I wasn’t working, I was with my family. When I wasn’t with my family, I was working. I left no space for much else. For awhile there, I was just getting by in my work, in my marriage, in my friendships. During those months, the only thing that got my absolute full attention was my son. And just like that, little by little, my already shaken voice and sense of self began to slip further and further. Without knowing it, I was choosing, in small ways and in big ones, to carelessly give it away. That choice meant sacrificing my relationship not just to myself, but to others – there’s a real price I was beginning to pay.

Untitled

I have learned a really hard, necessary, beautiful, universal lesson that most of us already know but often neglect to fiercely hold onto

We give away our voice in the micro/everyday moments when we choose not to stand in our power. We give away our voice in the micro/everyday moments when we choose not to protect our boundaries and carry someone else’s shame/anger/etc that doesn’t belong to us. We give away our voice in the micro/everyday moments when we choose to sacrifice self-care over other-care. We give away our voice in the micro/everyday moments when we choose not to shine. We give away our voice in the micro/everyday moments when we become other-esteemed and not self-esteemed. We give away our voice in the micro/everyday moments when we don’t challenge the shame/gremlin/self-defeating stories we tell ourselves, all day long.

And perhaps most importantly, we give away our voices in the micro/everyday moments when we choose not to bravely show up inside our beautifully messy, often complicated lives. We must honor, and tell our stories, all along the way. It’s how we speak our truth and know our voice.

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

I’ve been reclaiming my voice for awhile now. To the girl who says no more often, who speaks up when she has a question, who takes a couple hours out of everyday to do anything that nurtures her soul, who firmly stands up for herself and her work, who is astonishingly sensing, who makes choices that are best for her family and disregards the judgments of others, who claims her courage as honesty, who owns her significance, who celebrates her quirks + her superpowers, who loves flowers and being outside, who loves music and art and silence, who has something to say.

Our voices are precious. Beautiful. Important. And they change the world.

May you be careful with yours. Be fierce around protecting it, nurturing it, and celebrating it, always.

XO
Kelly Rae

Sending much love,

Show/Hide Comments (62 comments)
62 Comments
  1. Liz Ostler

    As someone who lost her voice in an abusive marriage & slowly found it in the long journey of divorce, therapy, friends, family & my faith I want to thank you for this post. Thank you for standing with me in advocating for our individual voices!

    Reply
  2. Leslie Tucker Jenison

    Your brave post certainly resonated with me, and clearly many others. Thank you, Kelly, for courageously "putting yourself out there".
    In a world where there are so many hats to be worn, we often feel scattered to the wind. I believe this is especially true for mothers.
    Thank you for putting a voice to what so many are feeling!
    Leslie
    http://leslietuckerjenison.blogspot.com

    Reply
  3. Anonymous

    This helped me more than you could know today. Thank you!

    Reply
  4. Azajo DO

    Thank you so much and for the other people who posted. This is exactly what I needed to read. I will soon leave an extremely unhealthy environment where I've been slapped down repeatedly by peers with huge egos for the past few yrs. My voice was unequivocally silenced.

    This extremely painful experience helped me realize that despite this treatment, I've chosen to rise above it and be a woman of honor and dignity. It's helped me grow into a much stronger woman (I don't think my peers were expecting that – and neither was I)! Today, I don't "step into the ring" with crazy people. Now, I'm learning to share my voice only with those who choose to hear me.

    And you are absolutely right. I need more time for me. THAT'S what's been missing!

    THANK YOU!!!
    Dr. Hope

    Reply
  5. Lyn

    Remembering to stand up for my work. Thank you for your healing comments.

    Reply
  6. thefolia

    Glad you found your voice. I don't know if I ever have know its existence but thanks for the heads up…I will search for it!

    Reply
  7. Carey

    Thank you so much for this lovely post! It is a great reminder that we can't afford to lose ourselves. Even if it is in the things that we really love like our family, friends and business.

    Reply
  8. CJ

    A beautiful and inspirational post Kelly Rae, thank you for sharing.

    Reply
  9. Alissa Davies

    Your words hit home and made my hear swell. Just beginning the journey of motherhood and the reminder to remain in my own truth and nurture myself is a gift. By doing so I can only be a better mother to my little son….Thank you Kelly Rae for your amazingly touching words once again. Alissa
    edelweisswinter.wordpress.com

    Reply
  10. Gexton

    I can see it now. How I've gave away pieces of my voice these last couple of years. Subtle, over time, a little here, and a little there. You know how we don't realize what we had until it's gone or until it returns? Yes, it feels like that. Earlier this year, when I could feel my confidence coming back, I recognized my voice again – a lovely, most welcomed thankyoujesus gift.

    Reply
  11. Lise Meijer

    Kelly, I am smiling and tearing up. And breathing deeper than before. Sending you appreciation for your ability to say what is so, so human,and say it with integrity and poetry. And respect for your courage to keep searching and sharing the truths you find on your way. What a treat! Love from Lise.

    Reply
  12. Anonymous

    I think this is a new mom phenomenon. Your post made me cry, as it reflected what I have been doing too in the 13 months since my daughter was born. Thanks for the wake up call!

    Reply

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Hello + welcome!

I’m Kelly Rae Roberts

Before I picked up my first paintbrush at the age of 30, I was a medical social worker. I followed my creative whispers, and today I’m an artist & Possibilitarian. I’m passionate about creating meaningful art and experiences that awaken and inspire our spirits.

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