I would like to honor the voice in us all. Whether it be a mere “yes” or “no” or an eloquent declaration of our thoughts and feelings, every time we assert ourselves, we can gain perspective in relation to surroundings, situations, and process of thought. A sound can help ground us by affirming that we do exist, and we do matter. Same goes with a purposeful touch.

This is a continual reminder to me that what I say or do “is what it is” at that point in time, and it need not have a value judgment often attached to it. This is a difficult reminder when declaring myself to others because people can see through filters and potentially perceive me not as I am or misinterpret what I am saying. I have debated how to say something instead of just saying it. There needs to be a balance in terms of declaring my feelings and my thoughts in some type of congruence, but to walk on eggshells in fear of being misrepresented by others is not honoring my raw voice, my basic existence that deserves just as much respect as everyone else’s.
I want each of us to look each other in the eye instead of put anyone on a pedestal that has us stand over someone else. When we all simply communicate our genuine thoughts, concerns, and feelings, we can work together in openness and little judgment. So, let us all write blogs, essays, and books, make videos, and engage in conversation with each other without fear of being put down. We can be criticized constructively and with care, or we can just be heard and left to be. What matters is that we are heard, even if it is just by one’s self.

A background to this post is that I felt overwhelmed emotionally after a recent consultation with a highly skilled and knowledgeable naturopathic doctor with specialization in homeopathy, Dr. Paul Theriault. My current work exposes me to where my every word is sometimes analyzed. I have some social anxiety that stems from the insane abuse I endured as a child; my body’s cellular memory sometimes reminds me of a highly vulnerable and defenseless state, and I therefore lose some grounding. I cried out of deep sadness after this meeting that determined a wonderful elemental remedy for boundaries, and what stopped my crying was an unexpected but firm sound that my throat made. My voice grounded me in the present. It reminded me of my reason for writing and speaking in the first place—to simply say a message. I will not be able to please everyone or be “perfect” at every little thing involving my messages. All I can do is be me to the best of my faculties, and that me happily has a voice that should be honored and not stifled by my yet-to-be-healed insecurities.