We all hold pain; whether it is the mild discomfort with uncertainty or frustration at not being seen/heard to the most paralyzing fear and deep pain that we’ve held onto since childhood, or anywhere in the in between.
The wounds causing the pain are often invisible and the pain is often unconscious. Many childhood wounds (even in-utero traumas) are held in our bodies without conscious thought.
Add the cultural bias of keeping up appearances - making sure everybody thinks we’re okay - that’s deeply embedded in many of us, and pain gets stuck, trapped. We have been taught to hide our wounds or were told they were necessary for growth; toughened us up.
How many times have you heard: “but, children are resilient.” I was told that; heard that as a child. I believed it. Even passed the message on. But of course, I learned how to pretend, so that it looks that way.
They told me I was fine. My mom told me not to cry; not to be sad, not to be angry, so I did my best. Pretending was a survival tactic. I didn’t have any aware or emotionally intelligent adults around, so it went unnoticed and I got lost; lost myself. There was no such thing as trauma-aware or trauma-informed then!
How many of you relate?
Singing Saved Me
I found my singing voice to be the gateway to emotional freedom and connection. My speaking voice was locked though; holding back all that the body wanted to say, yell, shout, scream, and was never able or allowed to.
Singing is one of those activities that can release truth. Some of our dis-ease with singing in front of others is a little self-consciousness, and much of it is fear of that release: the build up of deeper unspoken wounds that have buried us in fear. I think that’s why it took me a while to find the loud powerful side of my voice.
I had an angelic voice. I sang as sweetly as I was told to be. I loved singing sad songs; even sung sweetly, they felt cathartic.
Singers can put a pretty melody and some fancy rhythms to cover the truth of our hearts, and try to pretend that the pain isn’t there, or that we’re someone else, and yet the release of breath and the sound it activates, can stir the long held silence of our inner child. The sound and release is like a beacon…Look Here! Look within!
The singers that we love and identify with, and that move us, are usually letting that pain out. We hear how they feel about the world, life, loss, and we find connection and meaning when we listen and when we sing along.
When we start singing on our own, it’s just us, our story, our voice. We stand alone; our sound is a beacon for all to hear. It is exhilarating and terrifying. Any judgments and moments in your life you have been taught to be ashamed will bubble up to the surface; disapproving voices of parents, siblings, even childhood teachers will rumble through your mind; the smell of perfume or hair dye of that one person who was especially cruel, will seep through your memory banks and cause you to choke up; sometimes quite literally.
These are internal wounds that are unhealed.
Then, we add modern day competition and judgment to what is a “good” voice on top of it, and our breaths catch, our muscles tighten, our hands freeze, toes go numb, and our voice gets snuffed out. This physiological sequence can be a catalyst to awaken long held wounds/traumas in the body, if we are paying attention.
Different Personalities of the Spoken and Sung Voice
Not everyone has this deep wounding, and yet we all know pain. Not everyone’s pain translates to trouble singing or asking for what they need or desire. For me, it was the latter.
Singing was my rescue; it was how I unintentionally regulated my nervous system. Because I didn't know I was doing that - or even what a nervous system was at 9 yrs old! - I wasn’t able to consciously use it as a tool.
Lucky that I grew up in a singing family. That was my saving grace. And, when things were good, and happy and shiny, there was a lot of singing. When things were dark and scary; silence was golden. This is how my authentic voice got trapped.
I mentioned loving sad songs. Often, those melodies are softer; easier to access. Anger was so forbidden that I couldn’t even get close to an angry song. It was the scariest of all. It took me a long while to allow, and express anger. I know this is true for many of us; especially people who identify as women.
I was almost 40 when I realized I was hiding behind the music. I could say and express half a rainbow of emotions through songs, but I would not dare tell people how I felt, especially if it was a contrary opinion. I was taught not to wake the inner demons of others. I avoided conflict.
I sought help. I sought coaching, eventually therapy, and dove into a treasure trove of literature on trauma and healing, communication and connection, vulnerability and authenticity, bravery and creativity.
I made some difficult changes, and dug into a new venture, songwriting. I created my own outlet for musical expression as I was learning to use my spoken voice for the first time in creating a life of my heart’s desire, mending and ending relationships.
Life was flowing well. I found more ease; joy. Making new relationships; I was having fun with life.
Then my mother’s Alzheimer's diagnosis came in 2019..The biggest jolt was realizing that I had not plunged into the depths of my childhood wounds and pain that was hidden there. It was in this dark place when the pandemic hit, and then all I could see was pain and fear, all around me.
I noticed it in my clients, who made the immediate virtual transfer, desperate for connection. I saw it in the world; the pain of injustice, the collective anger of (and for) our black and brown brothers, sisters, strangers; the further separation of voiced beliefs as a country; more voices were feeling braver to spew hate.
Thankfully, I heard a rise of compassionate voices too.
Power of our Collective Voices
As I was awakened to my own deeper pain, I could hold others’ fear and pain easier. The way through is together. Breathing together, wailing together, rejoicing together, intoning together. When you hear the phrase “raise the vibration” do you hear voices? I do!
We can raise the vibration of healing and compassion in our world through our voices. We can do it collectively; there is always safety in numbers. AND, I believe we must have access to our courageous individual voices for when we have to be the beacon of light in a difficult moment or dark times, when we have to stand up for ourselves and others whose voices cannot be heard.
I accidentally tripped into the magic of the voice. Because I came to singing so early and it was encouraged, I found it to be a safe haven. I was rarely afraid of it. The stage was a safe space in my childhood.
Most of my clients over the years have been looking for confidence. I approached this overcoming from so many angles, working on performance anxiety, finding strength in the voice.
And, it hit me a couple of years ago, this comfort with performing is a matter of nervous system regulation. Just like we need in everyday life. We need to redefine performance, redefine singing, redefine what a singer is for all those that want it. We ALL have permission; access.
People say music can be healing. Sure. It can be. And, we also have to do some of our own work to get greater benefits. The ease of singing in front of others has to do with acceptance of one’s one voice, compassion and ease for self and others, a judgement-free zone, and practice. I don’t mean practice of the singing, or the song (sure, of course), but I mean practice, like exposure. We need to expose our nervous system to the fear of performing over and over and in the midst, find the safe space. This is a learned practice!
Just like I had to live through the discomfort of learning to ask for what I needed, learn to sit with the discomfort of conflict, reminding myself that I’m ok. It’s the same practice for singing.
Our nervous system regulation is vital to a steady voice and a peaceful world. Our breath is vital to our nervous system regulation, and making sound. Our ability to exhale sound and find regulation is vital to our steadiness. Our ability to move the sound, flow the breath, hold onto the ease and flow of regulation starts to raise the collective vibration.
Doing this together is how we co-regulate and get our voices heard.
Raise the Vibration
Will you join me in creating a more compassionate world in healing your pain by finding your most courageous voice?
Join my Studio Gatherings this year…
We gather (in person and online) and Breathe, Vibrate, Regulate, Harmonize, Sing, Practice saying the hard thing and Practice Performing. We are each other’s emotional witness when needed.
Jump in! $59/month (subscription for year) ($30 drop in per class)
Want to dip a toe in; see what it’s like?
Contact for the Schedule and Details