My Voice

This morning I was thinking of having a voice that is heard.  The other day I brought my 41 year old cheer megaphone to work to encourage my students to participate in an open mic activity.  I used the megaphone as a symbol of making our voices heard.  It reminded me of a phrase from a Dear Evan Hansen song suggesting  "If you only say the word...from across the silence your voice is heard".

My students need to be heard.  Many times, their voice is a cry for help.  Their behaviors have spoken loudly and have been addressed by parents seeking treatment for their child's unhealthy personal expression. As with so many others in the mental health profession, I encourage self-expression through psychotherapy, writing, art, music, drama or other opportunities to open up for honest disclosure, reflection and insight.  

Besides the visual aide of the megaphone, I also brought my yearbook so the students could pick me out of a line up of cheerleaders.  I also performed a cheer using a microphone.  Of course, they thought it was dumb, but it gave me reason to pause and reflect about my value of having a voice.  As I thumbed through the pages of my ancient relic yearbook, I thought about other ways I sought to be seen and heard as a teen.  Whether it was my performance as Ado Annie in the the school play, or my involvement in student council, my voice was heard-no matter how high pitched and grating.  

In church my voice was heard through the many youth talks, primary music presentations as chorister, leadership councils, and special musical numbers singing solos and duets. From an early age, I enthusiastically raised my hand to answer questions posed by my teachers or get up in front of the congregation and bear my testimony at the pulpit.  I wanted to be involved but I also wanted to be heard.  

In college, my voice was drowned out by the large talent pool of BYU students. Nevertheless, I found small ways to be an influencer, long before the days of social media.  Whether it was in my interpersonal relationships with friends and acquaintances, service in church callings, or even serving a mission for my church in Spain, all gave voice to what I thought was important.

As a mother, my voice was heard through hundreds of hours of parental instruction-formal and informal, emphasizing family values. They didn't necessarily listen or like what I was saying but sometimes I felt heard and understood.  At times my sons and daughters did not feel seen and heard or that they truly had a voice in our family.  That is something I continue to address in the present as I reach out to them even if it's just to hear the sound of their voice.  I want their voice to be heard. 

In my career, I continue my desire to have a voice or at least some type of influence over my daily work schedule and duties.  I have often had incredible freedom approaching the very broad, generalist responsibilities associated with my title of recreation therapist and put my own spin on it.  I want to be "in the room where it happens" though power structures sometimes do not include me or want to know what I have to say about the matter.  

Church participation continues to provide opportunities to be heard.  Whether in testimony meeting, class member discussions, service and teaching-I feel welcome to share if I so desire.  These days I tend to listen and observe more with less need to be seen and heard. 

I am grateful to use this blog as my voice.  Even if I write and do not publish it for public consumption, It helps to give form and function to my thoughts and feelings.  It also is my small way to fulfil the promise from my patriarchal blessing of being a voice in the community. Though I'm not politically active, at least I can speak up-say something and be heard.  I am so grateful for all the opportunities to have a voice.  Thank you for listening!