return to Better You > Just For You

Sep 2009  |  By Trish Cook  |  Comments

Belt it Out like a Kid Again

In junior high, my favorite class was chorus. Instead having to warble "Greensleeves" or barbershop or anything equally distasteful to me at the time, we were set loose on Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, the Allman Brothers and the Beatles.

It was absolute nirvana for a music fanatic—and wannabe rock star—like me.

At our concerts, having a solo was the freaking pinnacle. Since I'd spent my entire youth—and every penny I'd ever owned—buying 45s of my favorite tunes, obsessively memorizing every lyric and then singing into a tape recorder until my performances were as close to the original as I could get, I suppose I was more prepared than many for the highly competitive tryouts.

After many eliminations for the coveted Sandy part in “Summer Nights,” it came down to me and the most popular girl in school—whom everyone agreed had the best voice in school. Still, I never once doubted myself.

My belief that there was a new best singer in town soon convinced everyone else of the same thing. I won that solo and many others that followed.

But then … junior high ended, and so did my reign as rock star. I stopped singing.

Maybe it was the offhand, innocent comment my friend surely didn't mean. Or the negative self-talk that comes with being a teenager. Or the nagging sense of having been wrong about my talents. Whatever the cause, I lost my conviction and, with it, my voice.

I went radio silent, loving music as much as ever but never daring to open my mouth in public for fear of being outed as a complete fraud. Tone deaf. A misguided wannabe who had a fluke moment of glory in junior high.

Even at Ladies' Rock Camp—one of the most transformative experiences of my adult life—I kept my mouth shut. When my friend said that she wished I would actually sing the song I'd co-written with her, I pressed my lips together and shook my head, tears filling my eyes. I just couldn't do it.

Thank goodness for divine intervention.

In the cab back to the airport after our big camp performance, nature treated us to an awe-inspiring rainbow, and we spontaneously broke into an old Elton John song. It was like that unforgettable scene in "Almost Famous" where the tension just slips away and everyone starts belting out the tune: "Hold me closer, tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway … "

In that moment, I was set free from my cruel, self-imposed imprisonment. And I realized: Yeah, so maybe I'd never be a rock star. But maybe, just maybe, my voice was worthy of being heard again. And maybe, just maybe, I had something important to say.

I mean, sing.

Since then, I've recaptured the joy one note at a time. First it was recording on Garageband so my band could learn the words and melodies to my original songs. Next it was adding some background vocals to them in practice. And, most recently, it has been occasionally stepping up to the mic as lead singer. Sure, it's only in basement rehearsals so far, but I have hope that someday I will let people hear my songs in public—with me singing them.

And so if you—like me—have allowed your true self to be silenced over the years, I hope you'll decide to claim your voice again. Whatever you have to say—to sing, to draw, to build, to design, to sculpt, to manage, to play, to dream, to paint, to offer—is uniquely yours. No one else can do it for you, and no one can do it quite like you. So just do it, and don't listen to anyone who says you can't. Do it like you know, absolutely know deep down in your heart, it's what you were always meant to do …

… and everyone one else will believe it, too.

The "Let Your Dreams Be Heard" Playlist

"Live Out Your Rock Star Fantasy" Links