How I Lied to Myself for 22 Years

I was 22 when I was told for the first time that I had a beautiful voice.

 

Of course I didn’t believe him. NO ONE in my family had a good voice. It’s just a part of having Sitton blood running through your veins. While creativity is the air my mother’s side of the family breathes, we have never been complimented on our singing.

 

 

As a young girl, I was convinced it was my place in life to be a terrible singer, despite the fact that deep down, deep enough I couldn’t even admit it to myself, I really enjoyed it. So I created a fear of being overheard by even my own parents and hid my desire behind it. I told myself that it just wasn’t something that would ever be a part of me.

 

But I could never quite walk away.

 

I remember the afternoon I decided that I wanted to hear my voice alone for the first time, not hiding behind the church congregation or my family’s inharmonious attempts at a melody. I was so scared of anyone hearing me that I grabbed my hymn book and hid in my closet behind several locked doors and row of hanging dresses. Kneeling on the floor, I opened the little book the size of my hand to my favorite hymn and started to sing.

 

 

I made it through one verse before shutting the book. I couldn’t get away from the fear: What if someone heard me and told me I was just as terrible as I had always feared I would be? So I continued to hide it.

 

But in the Summer of 2012, things started to change. Sitting in a church pew with a boy, singing the hymns quietly with the rest of the congregation, I tried my hardest to let the few members of the congregation drown out my voice.

 

I failed.

 

But in failing, I found a small victory against the fear.

 

Because at the end of the service, the first words out of the boy’s mouth were: “You have a beautiful voice, Maddie.”

 

 

 

And for the first time I admitted to myself that maybe I did actually love to sing. Maybe I did have a pretty enough voice to sing along in the car without the radio drowning me out. Maybe I had a pretty enough voice to one day sing to my children before bedtime.

 

I probably will never join a choir or perform a solo on a stage, but I am ok with that. For me, singing is more fundamental and reflective. It is the thing that helps me connect with myself anytime I sit down to create. Whether I’m painting a thrifted bookshelf or sewing an emerald green dress for my next photo project, I feel alive when I can open my computer, turn my crafting playlist on and forget about the passing hours as I sing and create.
So today I wanted to share a little part of what brings me joy, by sharing my current go to crafting playlist. I hope you enjoy singing along to it as much as I do.

 

 

Yours,