learning to love the sound of my own voice

the first time i heard myself

on a recording

i wanted to disappear

that voice

high and thin

like glass breaking

was supposed to be mine

but it belonged

to someone else

someone i was pretending to be

someone i was dying not to be

so i stopped talking

for weeks

months

letting others fill the silence

nodding instead of speaking

texting instead of calling

because every word that escaped

felt like a betrayal

of who i really was

then came the voice coach

in a small room

with mirrors everywhere

and she said

your voice lives in your chest

not your throat

breathe from here

and placed her hand

right above my heart

where the real me

had been hiding

the exercises felt impossible

humming low

feeling vibrations

in places i'd never noticed

my ribs

my sternum

the hollow of my throat

where courage lives

weeks of sounding like

a thirteen-year-old boy

going through puberty

cracking and breaking

but finally

breaking toward myself

you sat with me

through the worst of it

when i sounded like

a stranger to both of us

recording practice sessions

on your phone

playing them back

until i could hear

the progress

buried in the roughness

you never laughed

when my voice cracked

during important conversations

job interviews

ordering coffee

moments when i wanted

to crawl back

into silence

but you'd squeeze my hand

and remind me

this is you

becoming

the first time a stranger

correctly guessed my pronouns

based on how i sounded

i cried in the parking lot

not from sadness

but from finally

being heard

as myself

now when i answer the phone

and don't get misgendered

i think of that small room

with mirrors

and your patient love

and the voice coach who said

your authentic voice

was there all along

just waiting

for permission

to be heard

my voice still cracks sometimes

when i'm nervous

or excited

or deeply in love

but now it cracks

toward truth

toward the frequency

of my real self

and when you tell me

you love the sound

of my laughter

my sighs in the morning

the way i say your name

i finally understand

that this voice

rough around the edges

deeper than it used to be

higher than some people expect

this voice is mine

and it has been worth

every broken note

every cracked word

every moment of doubt

to find the sound

of who i really am

so now i sing in the car

leave voicemails

record videos

speak up in meetings

because my voice

carries my story

and my story

deserves to be heard

in the exact frequency

of my truth