A Tale of a Girl Who Found Her Voice
“Growing Sensitive & Strong” is the life-changing program that moves you from “What’s wrong with me?” to comfortable and confident in who God made you as a Highly Sensitive Person.
To be the first to know when Early Bird Registration for our summer session begins, you can add yourself to the Waiting List right here.
July 13, 2005, 10:00 PM
I stare at my blank computer screen and pray for inspiration to write my Vision Statement for the MA program I’m starting.
“Get in touch with your stories,” I’ve been told. “They will lead you to your vision.”
I feel like saying, “Yes, Jedi Master,” in my 12-year-old son’s best Luke Skywalker immitation.
“Those who have lost their narratives have lost their voice,” I’ve been told.
I feel like saying, “Whatever!” in my 14-year-old daughter’s best know-it-all teenager tone.
Instead of trying to “visualize” or develop a “vision,” I close my eyes and begin hearing voices.
- “What do you mean you lost your sweater? HOW could you have lost it already?”
- “All right, I guess we HAVE to have Cheri on our team.”
- “Get in your room and do not come out until it is clean.”
- “Goodbye. I’ll miss you. I’ll write.”
- “Why haven’t I heard any piano practicing this afternoon!?!”
- “Sis, here’s what you do: When you get a test back at school, keep it turned over on your desk and slide it into your backpack upside down. That way nobody will ever know your scores. And for heaven’s sake, keep your mouth shut.”
- “You’ll have to take over for Mother until she’s better. I know you can do it!”
- “You have a very natural seat on a horse. You have a lot of potential.”
- “Goodbye. I’ll miss you. I’ll write.”
- “Cheri, Nikki was hit by a car last night. We took him to the emergency animal hospital, but he died before they could attempt surgery.”
- “We had to choose between continuing your horseback riding lessons and piano lessons.”
- “I’m so glad you chose me to be your Dad.”
- “You know the Bach competition is this weekend. Get back in there and practice!”
- “Cheri, all the junior high teachers were talking about you during faculty meeting today. They asked me to tell you that your mother needs to take you shopping for a bra with better support and coverage.”
- “Cheri, your room! Just walking by it I feel messy!”
- “Cheri has the highest first quarter grade in Geometry. But today, I’d like to introduce a brand new student who will beat her next quarter.”
- “I’m not losing anything. I’m throwing her away because that’s what you do with trash.”
- “Cheri! Piano!”
- “And don’t you dare tell Mother or Daddy!”
- “Cheri Elder, Honor Roll.”
- “Just lose 3 pounds.”
- “WHY didn’t you TELL us?!? You knew all this time, and you didn’t tell us?!?”
- “Cheri Elder, ASB Religious Vice President”
- “Just lose 3 more pounds.”
- “Cheri Elder, 4.0 GPA”
- “Damn you! I told you not to tell!!!”
- “Cheri Elder, Honor Roll.”
- “Just lose another 3 pounds.”
- “Cheri Elder, National Merit Honorable Mention”
- “Just lose another 3 pounds.”
I contemplate the voices I’ve been hearing for the last hour. Do they mean anything? Are they anything more than a hodgepodge of childhood memories? How is “hearing voices” going to help me write my Vision Statement?!?
I look for themes, patterns, a metaphor, perhaps.
None of this is new; I’ve “dealt” with all of these stories (and many more!) in various counselors’ offices. More than once I’ve tried to leave them all behind.
What is the good of revisiting these memories now, when I’m trying to move forward toward an MA (and perhaps a PhD), not slide backward?
And then it hits me.
I see something.
Actually, I see something that’s not here.
I realize what is missing from this chronicle of the voices from my childhood and teen years.
My voice.
Where is my voice in all this?
It’s not here!
Frantically, I scroll back through the pages.
I must have just gotten so caught up in all the stories that I forgot to record my own words. I’ll just go back and add them in! Hmmm . . . should I add myself in between every voice or every other voice?
Stop.
This means something.
I can’t just go back and “edit” myself into this.
What I’ve written, here, means something exactly the way it came out.
It means something, that I recorded all these voices — my parents, my brother, my teachers, my classmates — but not mine.
It means I had no voice.
That blank space between each voice?
That’s me.
Voiceless.
Without a voice of my own, the voices of others defined my reality for decades to come.
Your Turn
What voice(s) were loudest during your childhood? What voice(s) are loudest now?
Wow , Cherie your writing really struck my soul like a lightning bolt, I feel for the little girl and the teen inside of you ! Thankyou for sharing ! The voices that were loudest in my childhood were those of fear, those of you are not important, and those of you are responsible to fix everyone and everything. The voice I hear today is most days that of my Saviour and I am forever blessed and thankful for his light shining into those dark places!
Yes. This. Exactly.
This is probably the most “on point” post I have read today…it reached me. It took too long to find my voice.
Powerful Cheri! Simply Powerful. As I read your words I found myself thinking back to some of the voices from years past and thanking the Lord that through is healing power that I am learning how to combat those lies that would want to come and undo all God has done. Thank you for sharing your heart and this delicate process of finding our voices.
You have a beautiful voice, Cheri! I’m so thankful you are using it for Him!!
Cheri: What you wrote made me think of all the voices I hear. Until recently, I have only heard other voices. What an amazing way to think about how we shut down our own. Thank you for this amazing post.
Sorry, I misspelled your name, Cheri!!! Can’t imagine why I did that! Ha!
Wow, Sheri! We have even more in common than I thought. This girl without a voice has such significance to me right now as I’ve struggled with my actual physical voice. I can’t wait to read the upcoming posts. This one really touched me tonight.
Tears came to my eyes as I read your words. I’ve been struggling the last three months with the voices that tell me “It’s always your fault”, “You’re not good enough”, etc., since I was a child. I thought that I had put the hurt behind me. However, when an in-law spoke some unkind / hurtful words, I ended up in a Christian counselor’s office trying to sort everything out. I know the ‘old’ voices are the lies of Satan but I’ve been brain-washed and it’s a minute by minute struggle to remember the truth. Prayers for you and for me….
Wow! …… It hurts me to hear you had “those” voices….. I had my own voices… Well, not my voice but other’s voices. I wasn’t supposed to voice my desires, my wants, my opinions. Never have any expectations…… Who did I think I was? I was stubborn though and sometimes I spoke up. Speaking up hasn’t always served me well though…especially when I moved to the South! 🙂 After 52 years, I try to listen to my own voice and God’s voice. I take in what others say. Sift it. And keep what I believe I need to. It works. Most of the time.
Love and Prayers,
Beth
Can’t stop thinking about the Tori Amos song, “Silent All These Years.” A secular and odd song, but same theme.
“I said sometimes
I hear my voice
And it’s been here
Silent All These Years”
Yay! Your voice is so strong to us, your readers; glad you are listening too. Thanks as always for your honesty.
Cheri,
Wow!! This is so powerful and I see my story through yours. So many of us keep silent while others tell us how to live, what’s appropriate, what we can’t tell and how we should think. This is beautiful.