7 Things I Never Say Out Loud.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking lately about how strange it is to have done something for most of your life....and still find yourself feeling vulnerable about it. 🤪

I’m a 48-year-old professional singer. I’ve sung on Broadway stages, concert halls, been all over the world.

I’ve built a life around singing.

And yet… there are still things I rarely say out loud.

Because for all the confidence people assume we have- the years of experience, the training- there’s still this private, tender part of being a singer that never really goes away.

👉🏻The part that wonders if we’re enough.
👉🏻The part that aches when our voice doesn’t do what it used to.
👉🏻The part that just wants to feel safe being seen... even when we’re still figuring ourselves out.

It reminds me how human this path really is.

And I have a feeling I’m not the only one who feels that way.

These are the things I don’t often talk about… but I think maybe we should.

1. I’m terrified to sing in front of others.
You’d think it would get easier with time, right? But sometimes the more you care, the scarier it feels.
It doesn’t matter if it’s five people or five hundred. That fear shows up because you’re letting yourself be seen. And that’s brave. That's human. Figuring out how to manage and work with this fear has always been the journey.

2. My inner critic is the loudest voice in my head.
She’s got an opinion on everything- my voice, my body, my worth. But she’s also just trying to keep me safe. These days I don’t fight her; instead I reassure her & let her know I’m singing anyway. 

3. Some weeks I don’t feel like singing… and then I feel guilty for it.
I used to think passion meant constant motivation. Now I see that love needs rest, too. Sometimes silence is what's called for. Sometimes space is what's needed to recharge. And also sometimes a gentle nudge to return.

4. I compare myself to the version of me who “used to” sound better.
The younger, lighter, fearless me.
But she hasn’t lived what I’ve lived. My voice now carries my whole story and that makes it more interesting, not lesser. Also the wisdom and clarity on who I'm doing this all for (hint: not the audience) is knowledge I wouldn't trade for anything.

5. I sometimes wonder if I’ve already done my best work.
That the most magical notes might be behind me.
But then a phrase lands just right, or I feel that spark again and I remember, the magic never leaves, it just changes form. And the best is yet to come. 😊

6. I feel alone in these feelings, even though I know I’m not.
Almost every singer I talk to whispers some version of these same truths.
It’s wild how universal this is, and how private it feels.

7. I’m grieving the singer I used to be.
But I’m also falling in love with the one I’m becoming.
Grief and gratitude can live side by side: one honors what was, the other opens what’s next.

If you’re nodding your head right now, please know you’re not alone.
We all carry our creative hearts in such tender ways.

Owning your voice- your whole truth, with its fear and its fire- is how you come home to yourself again.

It has been for me. And it's what Joyful Singing is all about.

And that’s exactly what we practice inside The Own It Workshop — A FREE masterclass for singers: Pros + Enthusiasts.

🤩 Join The Own It Workshop here → GRAB MY SEAT!

This workshop isn’t just about singing-  it’s about owning your creative self in all her forms. You’ll walk away feeling seen, supported, and a little more at home in your own voice.