I Hear It [Again], Loud.

I can see it now. 
How I've gave away pieces of my voice the last year. 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 relationship that confused my spirit - a hard reconciliation of being the day I broke my own heart, 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 during that relationship that weakened a foundation from which I stood confident with a voice that, up until that moment, I was fierce not to betray.
We all have those pivotal moments, don't we? They are the moments that break us open. They are our greatest teachers.
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.  
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, to him (I really think he is my soulmate, still)- there's a real price I was beginning to pay.
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.
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 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 in the sun, 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.

Love you, Mean it!

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