FIND YOUR VOICE
BE LOUD. BE PROUD. BE YOU. SILENCE IS A HARD HABIT TO BREAK, YET FEARNE COTTON HAS LEARNED WE HAVE TO SPEAK UP IF WE WANT TO CREATE CHANGE IN OUR LIVES…
H ow many times have you swallowed words? The word ‘no’, or perhaps the words ‘I won’t do that’ or ‘That doesn’t work for me’.
How many times have you sat nodding in agreement, yet inside are screaming? How often do you feel too terrified to say your bit? I think most of us will have experienced unspoken words mounting up and creating physical tension, resentment and a lack of confidence. A mound of lost syllables pushed back down our throats. What is it that is holding us back from speaking out? Rejection? Perhaps. Being shamed by others? Maybe. But maybe it’s just a bad habit.
On a grey Tuesday in early 2020, I found myself in a taxi racing through the streets of London with thoughts working at a similar speed. Just moments before, I had seen my vocal cords on a large hospital TV screen as a throat specialist eased a micro camera down my nasal passage.
The more husky than usual voice I had been struggling to use at work had become problematic as I coughed and spluttered through voice-over work and my podcast series. I just couldn’t seem to clear this croaky voice, which had gone past ‘sexily husky’ and was now firmly in the territory of ‘annoyingly raspy’. Much less Marilyn Monroe and much more Muttley the dog.
The cause was a sizeable cyst, perched contentedly on the side of one of my vocal cords.
Rather than panic, I felt curious as to how it had ended up there. I knew the cyst could be removed with surgery and that there was a risk around this sort of operation with how well and quickly I would recover, yet curiosity overrode any worry. My first thought was: I KNOW WHAT THIS IS ABOUT! I just knew it was the tension built up over the years of not speaking my truth. The professor explained that little is known about why cysts end up in this part of the body, but people who do a lot of voice work are slightly more susceptible to them. Yet, to me, this throat critter symbolised something very specific.
I had actual flashbacks in montage form of all the times I’ve not set boundaries and have then felt trodden on and taken for granted. Followed by cinematic flashes of me saying ‘yes’ when really I meant ‘no’. Moments when
I have not said what was on my mind and instead remained silent. Just for the record, sometimes silence IS the best response, but not always. Sometimes words need to be spoken to create great change.
Faced with the possibility I might have to be silent for a while after the operation to allow my vocal cords time to recover, I felt fired up to think about using my true voice. Here was my chance to switch things up. Here was my chance to try flexing this very underused mental muscle. Could I really start speaking up?
I’ve often been so bad at this sort of communication that I’ve sat and endured loud music in a cab when I’ve had a blinding headache, too nervous to ask for it to be turned off. In these moments, I actually feel my throat and whole neck tense up. I’m a grown woman – 40 next year – how can I still be struggling with this stuff? At this point in my life, I’m at total ease with telling you how my heart works and about my troubles and worries. I feel safe doing so, as
I adore deep and heartfelt communication, but there was still this gaping canyon between professionally speaking my truth and doing so in my personal life.
‘I’M 40 NEXT YEAR, HOW CAN I STILL BE STRUGGLING WITH THIS?’
First, I had to look at the fear behind my decisions to not speak up. The fear that has debilitated me when it comes to telling someone what I’m okay with and what I’m not. The fear of taking up a certain amount of space. If I could overcome this fear and get ready to accept the outcome, whether favourable or not, then maybe I could fix so many bits of my life that feel heavy and twisted. I think, for most of us, this fear is subconscious and omnipresent. It might go back to a need in ancient people to be in tribes for survival. We don’t want to be excluded, left out, ostracised for saying the wrong thing. Our bodies and minds tell us we need the pack, we need other humans to connect with. It’s a visceral fear that we’ll be alone. Although we might not be in physical danger, us modern-day humans still need connection to feel safe emotionally. Yet we often take this too far and dilute ourselves for others, or shy away from expressing who we truly are. Our true self might not necessarily be more gregarious, flamboyant or eccentric than others expect, it might, in fact, be quieter, more ‘ordinary’, and less exciting. Dilution of who we truly are isn’t always a reduction, it’s just hiding away what we know
to be true. We all know deep down what our truth is but are often scared to speak it as we want to stay in the pack.
At first, I experimented in small ways. Letting people down who had kindly invited me to a party that I didn’t want to go to because I love an early night. What would happen if I didn’t make up some excuse and instead just spoke my truth? Would
I lose friends? Be ostracised from society? Of course not. I politely replied to the invite with total honesty and said friend very much appreciated that honesty.
But I’m not very good at saying ‘no’ when it comes to work, as I’m self-employed. Every ‘no’ feels like starting a small fire to burn a bridge to more opportunity. Yet, of course, not every offer or proposal floats my boat. Learning to say ‘no’ to work opportunities meant I had to flex the confidence muscle and maybe add a sprinkle of hope to the equation. The confidence part was essential for me to know that turning down work wouldn’t result in me losing everything. I had to take a look at how much of my self-worth lay in the hands of my outside achievements. How much of my confidence derived from others telling me they liked my work or thought I was good. The revelation was terrifying as I realised how much of that power I had handed to others. This is where hope comes in. If I could cultivate the confidence to say ‘no’, I had to shut out my inner critic and have hope that I’d be able to continue on my desired trajectory – when all the decision-making was on my terms. Confidence and hope is not easy to muster at the best of times, but it gets easier with practice.
I became more comfortable the more I did it, which gave me the confidence to believe that this might be more bad habit, and less bum-clenching fear.
We can’t ignore the fact that we’ve all been socially conditioned on some level not to rock the boat. Whether that’s as children by our parents, as adults with the constant pressure of not slipping up in our friendship groups, or on social media with all eyes on us. Somewhere along the line, we forget it is okay to make noise and to have different opinions, wants and needs to others.
I might be generalising here, but I also think women find this harder than men. The language used exclusively around women can also be very harmful. Assertive women are bossy, ambitious women are selfish, powerful women are scary. These attributes are celebrated in men yet viewed with scepticism when it comes to women. It’s all nonsense, yet perhaps hard to unlearn, as by osmosis we’ve taken so much of it on board. Being honest to those you are closest to might be easier than to strangers, or it might feel insurmountable. I’m lucky that I find it very easy to talk to my husband honestly. We have a constant open dialogue around the big and small stuff, which makes life a lot easier. With my mum, I find it slightly trickier, as I often don’t want to worry her. For instance, I didn’t tell her about Mr Cyst until a few weeks after I had the all-clear from the doctor. I knew telling her would create a large amount of stress, which would, in turn, change my perspective on the situation. This is again something I have practised since writing Speak Your Truth. Just yesterday, I was very open in telling her I had tried EMDR therapy (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) to lessen my panic attacks. Previously, she might have been concerned that my panic attacks were something to worry about, but now we can have a more open dialogue and she is more willing to also discuss her experience of the same.
To rebel, contest or do things a little differently takes courage. We are all capable of being courageous and standing up for what we believe in, I guess the only caveat is we have to be prepared to rock the boat. We might piss others off, be disliked, lose people or things from our lives, but surely it’s all worth it to live truthfully. I was recently sent a letter from a friend to tell me they didn’t feel I had been there enough for them. I was utterly shocked and felt, at first, defensive. Then I rooted back to the quiet within. The knowing that I am okay. The knowing that I always try my best and give what I can. The knowing that I won’t always get it right, but that’s okay, too. This time, I rocked the boat with silence. A first for me. My usual response would have been full of apology and defence, yet this time, it’s my truth, so I didn’t reply. The reply you give, the question you ask, the silence you choose may not please others, but you have to go with what will bring you peace. We can’t be responsible for everyone else’s feelings.
During the writing of my book, I did a little self-inventory and looked at what my truth really is, and the repercussions of speaking it. It led to some regret from my past and also to moments when I felt compelled to reach out to those in my life I hadn’t been honest with. Some of these connections needed an apology and some simply needed an explanation. Relationships need the truth. When we forge a new connection with someone, unless we set clear, loving boundaries right from the start, problems usually evolve. We end up making assumptions or not listening to the other person. Relationships thrive with honesty at the helm. I had learned this one the hard way again and again. Luckily, I have amazing mates and uncomplicated friendships, so if I have turned down an invitation or haven’t wanted to take on an idea one of my team put forward, nothing is lost. I have found that I am much more open to honesty now, too. I take things a lot less personally and see things with perhaps a little more perspective and, at times, distance.
I won’t spoil the ending of the book for you, but will hint at the whole process being rather thrilling – with a final farewell to Mr Cyst.
Being truthful requires resilience, acceptance and courage, but I also found it to be an opportunity to remember my own fluidity, and how alive it makes me feel.
Get excavating your own life to unearth your truth and start knowing it’s okay to make some noise.
‘TO REBEL TAKES COURAGE’