Mute

Ever since I was two I’ve been singing. I would take my pacifier out and sing along with Ariel while watching The Little Mermaid. I took dance lessons since I was about 3 or 4 and I’ve just always saw myself performing. I find great comfort in music. Music can evoke literally any feeling; it can put you in a certain state of mind, amplify an emotion, or just make you fucking feel something. I can’t count the number of times music has given me goosebumps or made me cry.

In high school, I was Vice-President (nerd alert) of the Concert, Madrigal, and Touring Choirs and was one of 3 choreographers. Touring choir was elite; you had to audition and go around to compete and we actually won. A lot. I’ve taken private and group voice lessons, piano lessons, and a “broadway” jazz dance class all at a performing arts school. I’ve taken commercial classes, have worked on sets (indie movie, commercial, Gossip Girl), was one of 3 producers of a sports podcast and produced and co-hosted another podcast. My point being: performing is in my blood. I’ve always seen myself on stage or in front of a camera. But in high school, the same friggen girl would get the leading roles in Drama Club and the solos in choir; there was never room for anyone else. Good for her, shitty for other people who had passion.

My mom’s way of telling me I was good was putting me in these lessons. Not “Ya know Alexa, you have a voice. You should/could do something with it.” No. Just here’s the check for your lessons. Which I get; that was her way of supporting me. But it’s not the same. Never hearing any praise or words of encouragement has fucked me up. I am extremely self-conscious about my voice because I fear it isn’t good enough. I’m tired of people getting aggravated with me when I tell them “aw, you have a pretty voice” isn’t good enough. It’s like a pat on the back and saying “aw, that’s cute”. Have a spine; fucking tell me.

When I lost Flora, everyone wanted to tell me and I quote, “the magic words to make me feel better”. But when it comes to lifting me up for myself, no one gives a shit. There’s only so many times I can pick myself up by the bootstraps, and I reserve those moments for when my depression (possible bi-polar) gets so bad that I can’t see a reason to keep doing this bullshit. Yeah, I do hair; that’s creative. But it doesn’t fulfill me. I am musical, always have been. If I gave two shits about doing hair the way I do about music, I would be posting pics of my work on Instagram (although, to be fair, I only cut hair and there’s only so many fades and long layered haircuts I’d post). But as far as fulfillment goes, I may as well be waiting tables.

Today I met with a vocal coach and he wants to work with me. He said, “I want people like you. You feel it. You get it.” Does he mean it or is he trying to make rent? I don’t know who to trust. This was never nurtured in me and I don’t know what to do. No one seems to know what to say even though I feel like I’m shouting the words at them. “SAY THIS!” And each and every fucking time it’s a swing and a miss. I open a door to show them the way and they crash into the wall. I’ll never “get over” Flora but since I’m trying to work on myself, almost to a manic extent, everyone figures “eh, she’s fine now”. That fucking hurts, man. AM I GIFTED? DO I HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO DO THIS? DO I HAVE AN IOTA OF TALENT? I don’t understand people. And I feel like I’m surrounded by people who get angry that “aw, you have a nice voice” isn’t good enough. Sorry, it’s not. Choke on it. It’s not genuine and if you really wanted to help me, you’d try harder.

I should’ve come home happy that he wanted to work with me, instead I got upset. Because AGAIN, it’s met with what feels like indifference or “oh, that’s cool”. How am I supposed to feel confident when I’m trying to un-do almost 30 years of these thought patterns? Sorry, but I’m gonna need a little help with that. And fuck me if I think I’m going to get it. It’s like talking to a goddamn wall. I don’t know why I bother.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s