Your voice matters…

I lost my voice at age eight.

Not literally—but emotionally, psychologically, relationally. It began with what the British call being “sent to Coventry”—a deliberate act of ostracism. I was given the silent treatment, excluded from conversations, and treated as though I didn’t exist. It was passive-aggressive, but deeply wounding.

And it didn’t take much to trigger it. Being sassy. Defending myself. Disagreeing. Having an opinion. Any of these could land me in isolation. Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes weeks—maybe even longer. I never knew when it would end. But when it did, I was expected to be grateful. Submissively grateful. Careful not to speak too boldly or step out of line again.

From age eight until I left home at seventeen, I lived like this—tiptoeing around others, shrinking myself to keep the peace. I learned to shape-shift, to prioritize others’ comfort over my own truth. I was conditioned to believe that my role in relationships was to keep everyone else okay, even if I wasn’t.

That belief followed me into adulthood.

Dating. Marriage. I thought silent treatment and emotional withdrawal were just part of the deal. I thought every woman did this—made herself small, walked on eggshells, people-pleased, submitted. I thought it was normal.

It wasn’t.

It took years—years of unlearning, healing, and rediscovery—before I found my voice again. Before I realized that love doesn’t require silence. That relationships shouldn’t cost you your authenticity. That being heard is not a privilege—it’s a right. My voice matters and so does yours.