Finding Your Voice

Finding Your Voice - Faith Barista Jam

 

I'm quiet. There. I said it. 37 years of trying to (unsuccessfully) run away from the label. I am finally, slowly, coming to the realization that it is okay to be that way. It's who I am. It doesn't mean I don't matter. It doesn't mean I'm insignificant. It doesn't mean I don't have an opinion or anything to say.

 

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight". 1 Peter 3:3-4

 

It means I will talk when I am ready. When I am comfortable with you. When I know the small talk is done with. When I feel that you won't  judge me for the softness of my voice or (since moving to a new country) for the accent that I have. 

 

I have adopted the quote "staying quiet doesn't mean I have nothing to say, it means I don't think you are ready to hear my thoughts", like a lone track on Replay on the iPod in my brain. 

Oh, who am I kidding? I don't speak up because I am afraid. 

Afraid of being judged. Afraid of not being liked. Afraid of what others will think of me. I am the quintessential people-pleaser. Anxious all the time for no reason, except to say is it any wonder? Living life feeling like I don't know who I am. Because if I did, surely I would be able to stand up for myself and start living an authentic life. A life that feeds my soul bearing witness to The One who made me. 

 

It was only recently, after a particularly soul-destroying night at work prompted a desperate Facebook post, that an acquaintance encouraged me to write something, anything, after I admitted that I think I write better than I speak. I had never tried it.

I put it off for weeks. The frenemies Procrastination and Doubt running rampant in my mind on a daily basis. What could I possibly write about?

And then one morning it was there. That little flicker, too passive to be called a spark, yet enough to ignite a short written piece. The words flowed. I don't know if they are any good. But what I do know is how the writing made me feel. 

It made me want to do more. I have since written some more pieces. I don't know what else to call them. But what I really feel is like I have embarked on a journey of Finding My Voice. If I persist with it. If I drown out the whispers that most often become shouts of what the point of writing is if no one will ever see it or that I won't be able to make a living off of it. I need to remember to just let it be. Write. Even when I feel I have nothing to say. Because it calms my mind. It slows the rattling chatter of my constant thoughts down. 

If I let it, it will Become My Voice.