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Sounds Like You

Updated: Jul 28

On the quiet practice of sounding like yourself

Sounds like you

You speak

But not every word is yours

Some arrive dressed in fear

Some echo a parent’s pause

Some are sharpened for protection

Some are softened to survive

And somewhere in between

You forget what your voice sounded like

Before you learned who you had to be


The frequency of the real

Your voice is not your sound

It is your shape

It is the texture of truth when you stop rehearsing

and begin remembering

Narrative therapy asks

Who’s speaking through you

Fear?

Performance?

Someone else’s disappointment?

Carl Rogers suggested that when outer voice meets inner truth, what we find isn’t volume.

It’s resonance


When the mic isn’t yours anymore

When you forget your voice, you outsource it

to approval

to habit

to someone else’s comfort

But borrowed voices always tremble

They do not carry

They do not root

Returning to your voice isn’t a performance

It’s a remembering

Not of sound

But what matters before the sentence begins


What I say isn’t me

What part of me goes quiet when I want to be accepted

What do I say to be heard, and what would I say if no one had to like it

When was the last time I spoke and felt that sounded like me

“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”

Victor Hugo

You don’t need to sing

Only to notice the tone that feels like your own

You’re invited to listen inward


 
 
 

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