The Years I Lived Without a Voice: Learning to Breathe Again | Stories from the Path by JBE Mindful Pathways
Stories from the Path | JBE Mindful Pathways
I wasn’t born quiet. I became quiet.
And for a long time, I thought that was healing.
There’s a certain kind of silence you wear like armor.
It keeps you from exploding.
It keeps you from being labeled “too sensitive,” “too dramatic,” “too loud.”
It keeps you safe—but only in the way a locked room keeps you safe from the fire and the light.
My silence wasn’t peaceful. It was survival.
It was growing up in a world that told me:
“That’s not how we talk around here.”
“That’s not appropriate.”
“Let it go—nobody wants to hear about that again.”
And so I learned to bury truth with a smile.
I learned to say “I’m fine” in three languages.
I became fluent in shrinking.
Breath was the first thing they took.
It’s subtle, at first. You don’t even notice it’s missing.
You stop sighing. You stop exhaling fully.
You hold your breath when someone raises their voice—
when you feel unworthy, (How trauma affects breathing patterns)
when you sense that your truth is too inconvenient for the room you’re in.
And you learn to take up as little space as possible.
Even in your own body.
One day you’re eight,
swallowing a sentence.
One day you’re sixteen,
laughing at a joke that hurt.
One day you’re thirty,
sitting in your car thinking, “Why does no one see me?”
It builds quietly, like pressure in a chest that was never meant to be a storage unit for pain.
And then one day, I choked on my own silence.
There wasn’t a single moment that woke me up.
It was small things.
Moments where my chest burned for no reason.
Moments where someone said something unkind, and I didn’t defend myself—and I couldn’t stop shaking later.
Moments where I watched others speak with boldness and thought, “I used to be like that.”
Healing, for me, didn’t start with speaking up.
It started with breathing again. (The healing power of breathwork)
Really breathing.
Not the shallow kind.
Not the “let me keep it together” kind.
But the kind that makes your ribs expand and your soul remember:
You were never meant to be silent.
You were meant to be heard.
Even when your voice trembles.
Even when it shakes the room.
Even when someone rolls their eyes.
What I’ve Learned About My Voice:
- Speaking up doesn’t make you disrespectful. It makes you whole.
- Saying “no” doesn’t make you difficult. It makes you safe.
- You can be kind and assertive. Gentle and firm.
- Not everyone will like your voice. Use it anyway.
- Silence is golden… until it becomes a cage.
And yes, sometimes… I laugh.
Because reclaiming your voice isn’t always deep and dramatic.
Sometimes it’s… accidentally hilarious.
Like the time I suggested something helpful to my sister, and she shrugged it off like I was talking nonsense.
A week later, her friend said the exact same thing—suddenly it was genius.
She looked at me and said, “Didn’t you say that already?”
And I just blinked and said,
“Oh, I did. I just didn’t say it in Influencer Voice.”
The way she rolled her eyes?
Pure sibling love.
Growth moment: check.
So now I breathe. On purpose. Out loud.
I speak my boundaries. I name my needs.
I use my voice even when it doesn’t come out polished.
Even when I cry mid-sentence.
Even when someone tries to shut me down with a look.
Because breath is life.
And my voice—after all these years—is my resurrection.
Final Note from Me to You:
If you’ve ever been told to “tone it down,”
If you were ever made to feel that your truth was “too much,”
If you’re still learning to exhale without apologizing—
This piece is for you.
Your voice doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. (Why reclaiming your voice is vital in healing)
You don’t have to scream to be heard.
You just have to be you.
Soft. Honest. Loud, if needed.
Sacred, always.
With grace, grit, and a love that refuses to quit.
Keep showing up—even when it feels like no one’s watching.
Your presence is powerful.
Your love is building something they’ll one day thank you for.
From one survivor to another—
With strength and softness,
~ Juju Divine Empress
Founder, JBE Mindful Pathways
Wellness Advocate | Writer | Mother | Still Learning, Always Loving
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