I have always been loud. Even before my memory, there are stories of me commanding a room, thriving as the center of attention. I came into this world hellbent on being heard. For many years, I was. I danced, sang, and took center stage in my own life, literally and figuratively. I thrived on performing and the applause that followed. But, as I soon came to understand, being the center of attention is only fun when your audience is caring and encouraging. Early contact with people who were anything but dealt the first and strongest blow to what had, to that point, been my unshakeable faith in the power of my own voice.
Unlike many others, I spoke up. But, for a variety of reasons, my words fell on deaf ears. Not once. Not twice. But, over and over again. All of the sudden, it felt as though my words didn't matter or weren't believed. The ensuing confusion and pain was only compounded by the usual trials and tribulations of adolescence. Because I lacked the perspective to understand why those to whom I had turned responded as they did, my anger moved inward. I started to wonder what was wrong with me. This sense of inherent insufficiency plagued me for the rest of my childhood and well into my adult life. Ultimately, it became the catalyst for incredible personal, professional, and spiritual growth.
The insecurity of not feeling heard was not a problem I could tackle head on. Indeed, it wasn't even something I was conscious of for many years. Lacking awareness, I went about the business of growing up, getting educated, and undertaking a career. As in all things, more was revealed through that process.
Slowly, the Universe guided me to the place where I could see--and heal--my fear of not being heard. First, I chose a profession that relies entirely on my ability to write, speak, and persuade. This work required me to overcome my threshold fear of using my voice, while simultaneously providing ample opportunities to feel as though my words had not produced the desired effect. In short, my job gave me a twofold gift--the comfort of speaking and the repeated discomfort of not feeling heard.
Healing took time--and a lot of work. It became an intuitive process of picking up each new tool as it appeared before me--calling that counselor my friend mentioned, taking a Daily OM course another posted about on social media, working with the creator of that course for several years. Like a slow walk through the woods, my path unfold in a meandering sort of way. I never knew what revelation or guide lay around the next bend. I didn't need to know. What mattered was not the path that I charted, but my persistent willingness to keep going, to take direction, and to give whatever came up my love and attention.
I can see now that my devotion to the process is what finally healed my fear of not being heard. For the first time, I committed to listening to myself. I gave my entire interest, attention, and love to whatever expression I found within, without judgment or recrimination. I allowed and accepted it all. That is not to say that I didn't encounter resistance. Indeed, it seemed to plague my every step at first. I am so grateful to one of my wonderful guides, Marcella Friel, for teaching me how to embrace resistance as a necessary and beautiful part of the journey. Allowing my resistance helped me overcome the feelings of inadequacy and inertia that always accompanied it. Instead of stopping me in my tracks, my resistance energized me to take the next step. To gratefully embrace the discomfort for what it was--the first sign that I had found the next path to tread.
Now, I know without a doubt this simple truth: When I want to feel heard, the answer is not to speak louder. It's to start listening to myself.
I don't need to fight for my place at life's table. I need to create time, space, and stillness for the needs within me to reveal themselves. I need to allow their full expression. And I need to respond with attention, care, and love. When I do this, all of the sudden--like magic--the people around me become more attentive and willing to listen. And I become less concerned with whether they accept what I have to say. I can be free because I know that I will always be heard, valued, and believed by the person who matters most--myself.
The joy of feeling heard that flows from this approach has rippled out to those around me in the most beautiful ways. I hear and believe my children, even as they struggle to communicate their needs. Our connection blossoms and I thrive on the security they find in our bond. Colleagues, friends, and family seek me out to share in their struggles. And, when I am called to speak, I know that the value of whatever I have to say comes not from my own ingenuity, but from my willingness to listen and respond to the needs expressed.
Life becomes a beautiful dance because I can finally hear the music. Listening devotedly to that music, as it plays from deep within, has become the source of my enduring peace and unshakeable strength. I am heard. I am free.
For more is always revealed.
XO,
Katy
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