I Was Never Afraid of Failing. I Was Afraid of Losing My Voice.
For a long time, my greatest fear wasn’t that I would fail.
It was that I would stay small.
That I would remain quiet.
That I would slowly forget the sound of my own voice.
I didn’t have language for it then, but looking back, I know exactly what it was.
I was living like a human version of Ariel, on land, without my voice because that was the price of being with a man.
And it’s a price I paid.
Now? Never again.
The Disney Lie We’re Sold (especially as women+mothers)
Disney never tells you what it really costs.
They don’t show you the slow erosion that happens when:
your ideas are dismissed,
your excitement is met with eye rolls,
your vision is called unrealistic,
your creativity is “cute” but not taken seriously.
No one ripped my voice away. I’d say many circumstances did, that led me to giving it up piece by piece. I believed that if love required compromise I’d pay the price and I didn’t realize the compromise was me.
I learned how to soften my words.
I learned how to package my ideas smaller or not at all.
I learned how to pre-edit myself so I wouldn’t be “too much or too many ideas.”
I learned how to survive on land without a voice even though internally the whispers grew.
My Greatest Fear Was Never Being Alone
It was staying in a life where I was tolerated instead of celebrated.
Where my ideas were minimized.
Where my ambition needed to be explained away.
“Too many ideas.”
“Whoa, slow down.”
“That’s been done before.”
“I don’t think that’ll work.”
“Just be happy in your 8-6.”
“We need your benefits.”
“If you were a stay-at-home, you’d cheat…” while he was.
My Synopsis: What they really wanted wasn’t partnership.
They wanted containment.
Radiant Women Trigger Systems Built on Silence
I read something recently that cracked something open in me:
Women who are truly radiant don’t ask for attention.
And yet, they become walking triggers.
Because a woman who knows herself, who creates, who imagines, who builds, exposes the fragility of systems that depend on her staying quiet.
And when the world isn’t ready for her, the response isn’t support, it’s judgment, it’s belittlement, it’s fear-based and just plain-old ick.
It’s…
“Why are you complaining? You should be grateful.”
“If you leave me, it’ll be a custody battle.”
Meanwhile you’re the most gratitude filled person you know, that wants nothing but the best for her children and act accordingly…(PS: those statements are gaslighting my friends)
But here’s the truth no one tells you:
If your presence feels disruptive, it’s because you’re evolving past what can hold you cue the shattering.
The Price of Silence Is Too High
I paid the price too many times.
I gave up my voice for what I thought was the greater good.
I traded expression for acceptance to stay.
I mistook love for self-erasure, re-read that. If your eyes didn’t pop open…check yourself.
And it almost worked.
Almost.
Until the fear of staying silent for my daughters became greater than the fear of leaving even under the…
“You’ll only get 50/50.”
“If you leave me, it’ll be the biggest custody battle ever.”
This is your reminder you don’t belong crying on the bathroom floor questioning your worth to preserve someone else’s fabricated worth. Have I mention people like this aka undiagnosed narcissists typically prey on educated, intelligent women? Let’s skip to the good part.
Motherhood Didn’t Silence Me: It Refined Me
When I became a mother, something shifted. Then shifted again.
I didn’t disappear, I clarified. I started seeing things for what they were.
Yes, I pivoted for what I wanted for her.
Yes, I closed chapters I built with my own hands, but only after giving it my best and final.
Yes, I reinvented everything I thought I knew. Twice…and still am.
But motherhood didn’t make me smaller.
It made me unignorable.
Because when you bring daughters into the world, you don’t just protect her being, you protect her future voice.
And I *know* I could never model or be silent or submissive to FEAR again. (Yes, a tense change here, my creative writing teacher in high school would be upset, but it’s important I know that today.)
Today I Choose My Voice, Every Time
I am soft where love lives. Within me. Within my children. Within my home. Within our travel and our soul beings.
I am gentle where healing is needed. For me. For them. For others.
And I am immovable where anyone tries to diminish, reshape, or quiet me.
I will never again trade my voice for false belonging.
I will never again shrink for companionship.
I will never again confuse silence with the pre-tense of faux-peace.
I am not afraid of standing alone.
I am afraid of disappearing.
Perhaps that is why legacy and authenticity have become my driving forces.
If I were to die today, it’s what I leave behind.
And sadly the fear that was there is what brought me back to myself…but I want to transpire that fear into empowerment for my daughters.
This is my story.
This is my return.
And this time, (spoiler alert) I keep my voice.
So, follow along and thanks for being here.
-Britta
