Finding My Voice
At 52, I found myself in a place I never expected, a place of genuine self-acceptance that took decades of struggle to reach.
In learning to love myself more deeply, I found my voice, but it wasn't the seamless journey movies portray. My first attempts at speaking up came out louder than intended, raw and unrefined. I secretly hoped for validation: "I see you standing up for yourself, good job." Instead, I often heard: "That's not my problem. You're the problem."
It hurt. I cried. More than I care to admit.
Those tears were special, though I couldn't see it then. Each one carried decades of buried authenticity, of moments when I made myself small to make others comfortable. My whole life, I'd been the peacekeeper, the one who smoothed things over, who said "it's fine" when it absolutely wasn't.
The grief cycle took me through its necessary stages. Just months ago, anger consumed me, at others for their treatment, at myself for my silence. Years of suppressed emotions erupted like a volcano, and suddenly I saw red flags everywhere. Back then I would make excuses for everyone: "Oh, she's too busy." Or "It's ok, he doesn't know." But no more. It became "FUCK YOU!" on my mind constantly.
I'm not proud of this phase, but I honor it. The universe had to break me open to reveal the truth.
During this time, I found myself sitting alone with my thoughts one evening, absolutely upset about a friend who had dismissed my feelings yet again. "Why am I suddenly so angry all the time?" I scribbled on my journal furiously. As I reread those words, something calmed me. I wasn't suddenly angry. I was finally acknowledging the anger that had always been there, buried beneath layers of people-pleasing and emotional compromise.
I told my husband, "I am bitchy, but I'm still evolving. So don't see the now me as the final version." He laughed and said I should make t-shirts out of it. That laughter was exactly what I needed—a reminder not to take my evolution so seriously all the time.
My spiritual practice became both anchor and the light during this storm. Meditation helped me sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of running from them. My long baths with essential oils became rituals, moments where I could connect with spirits and receive their wise messages. In those quiet moments I often found the clarity that I needed in the noise of everyday life.
Fortunately, lately, something has shifted. The anger has mellowed into a quieter wisdom. I'm learning the delicate art of loving myself while extending compassion to others; allowing people to be who they are without abandoning my boundaries; creating space to understand without sacrificing my peace.
This transformation reminds me of kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. The breaks aren't hidden; they're highlighted, honored as part of the object's journey. My own broken places, mended with the gold of self-love and hard-earned wisdom, have become my most beautiful features.
This journey has meant disconnecting from many, but in doing so, I've found connections that feel right. I've had to let go of friends I'd known for decades because our energy is no longer aligned. I've had to step back from those who couldn't respect my boundaries. Each separation brought its own grief, but also a profound sense of liberation.
No one needs me to be their validation, and I'm no longer performing to be seen. In this authentic space, I finally feel at ease, simply being.
If you're in that messy middle place, the place where your voice is too loud or your boundaries feel awkward or your anger seems overwhelming, please know this is a special time and space. You're not doing it wrong. You're finally doing it for yourself.
When I was at that explosive volcano eruption stage, I pulled an Oracle card that reminded me I'm now both a lion and a deer — bold, fierce, and vibrant, but also silent, sweet, and gentle. What a perfect vision of the integrated self we're all working toward. We contain multitudes. We can roar and whisper. We can stand firm and be flexible with grace.
The universe doesn't ask us to skip the messy parts. It asks us to move through them with courage and self-compassion.
I send light and love to wherever you are on your journey today. May you know that you are held, you are enough, and your authentic voice, however it sounds right now, is exactly what this world needs.
