Hi Ximmys,

You have been named! Not by me, but by my 7 year old niece, who has declared herself the #1 Ximmy, inspired of course by her other fandom, the Swifties.  She’s too cute not to share, but I’m very biased.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you went back to one of those places from your childhood that was a bit uncomfortable - a place where it felt like you were being attacked by a tiger, or the walls were caving in, or you wished the floor would swallow you whole?  You know those places, where someone just said something a little mean, or you were sure everyone was staring at you, or you sat alone while everyone around you had fun?  So what would happen if you, now, today, having learned all the things you’ve learned, and after slaying all of those bullies from your past, had to go back to that same place?

Basically, if you ever felt like this.

Well, my friend, I found out this weekend, and, spoiler alert, I got triggered!  See, since growing up, my sister Sam has had this beautiful voice (sounds like an angel, as my grandmother would say, and I always agreed!).  I played piano, but did not have the angelic Sammy voice.  Now, trust me, kid Lauren had life pretty good, and got plenty of accolades, so I wasn’t exactly starving for attention.  (hehe, but I always want more, you know…)  But, perhaps because of this ginormous ego that I’ve been working to corral since a young age, to me, my voice was embarrassing.  Full on shame.  It was too deep, too low.  I couldn’t manage my range and going from low to high very well.  And the highs….squeaky.  I was the concert pianist, who needed to sing in chorus in order to prepare for music school, and needed to be able to sing pitches just by looking at them, and my voice sounded gross.

Have I complained enough about my voice yet?  Want to make sure you get the full picture of the deep shame I have been harboring about my voice.

I can hear you asking about this, a little confused, because now I sing all the time.  Well, you’re right, a lot about me and my voice have changed, and perhaps I’ll have to tell you about how I got from there to here another time.

But, this weekend, I got confused too, and forgot about all the work I did and where I am today.  You see, I always play piano at family events, like funerals.  I have this great idea that I was going to play and sing a song that means a lot to my family, Yellow by Coldplay.  I plan for this song to be so heartfelt, so deep, that everyone would remember why that song matters so much to us, and it is not going to be about me, or my performance, but about what the song represents. 

So, after the traditional Ave Maria, in which Sammy makes everyone weep with her soulful interpretation, we sit down at the piano together and she plans to sing Yellow with me, and maybe even the family would join in.  What I didn’t anticipate was that these memories of my voice compared to my sister’s voice flood my brain and make me freeze up, in a version of stage fright that I’ve perhaps never had before! Crazy, right?

Basically, as soon as we start singing, I hear her voice, not mine, and I cannot hear my voice at all.  I immediately become so paranoid, so sure that I sound awful and she sounds fantastic, that my brain tells me the only thing I can do in that moment is to STOP SINGING.  So I did.  I keep playing piano.  Sammy sings, and she sings it beautifully.  And I stay basically mute. 

Now, in this moment, I somehow know that I am reliving this childhood trauma in real time, and I can watch it, a little, while still being triggered.  So I see that this song is not about me, but about the family, and Sammy and I keep that going in the way we always know how - with her singing, and me on the piano. 

The beautiful part happens next.  When I get some moments with my sister, I tell her what happened, and how small I felt, and how frozen I was.  And I know that no one had done anything wrong, especially her, either then or now, and that no one had done anything to make me feel this way.  And she responds so generously, so beautifully, that I know I’m immediately accepted, and the shame melts away.  I realize that this moment of ice cold tension was just part of my journey to own my voice, and use it proudly.

So, weirdly, now, I’m grateful I went back to that family church, and sat at that same piano that I’ve played for so many family events, and had that experience.  It brought me closer together with my sister and the rest of my family, and it removed one of those shame layers that has been covering me up.  Who knows what’s next?

So, if you find yourself in a similar situation, perhaps think of me and Sam, share the experience with a trusted friend, and thank the good lord that we are not 12 years old anymore.

Love always, 

Lauren

THANKS FOR READING!