My voice broke very late. I think that, deep down, I knew that once it broke, my self-esteem would plummet, as I'd never be head chorister again.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
At 28 years old, seven years out of college, I was so convinced that my voice outed me as a fag that I had stopped speaking to people I didn't know.
When I was young, my voice was so strong, and I would annoy people because I had such a loud little voice. And then it changed, and I thought I wouldn't be able to sing again, because I thought you had to sing like Christina Aguilera to be a singer.
I have a feeling that about 90% of my life has been shaped by my voice, both as an embarrassment and as an advantage. There was always the terrible incongruity of this deep voice barreling out of this little body. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that it was ludicrous, that it took on an importance that wasn't really there.
My voice is stronger today than ever.
I had self-esteem issues into my early 20s.
I've learnt to accept what has happened to my voice, I suppose, but I do wish it didn't sound quite so rough.
In the past, my voice was my enemy.
It was hard for me to find my voice because I was, for so long, absorbed in my own world.
I've abused myself a lot over the years. But my voice is still intact - really, it's better.
I had years of therapy to recover from this. A lot of it had to with being a people pleaser, being the ultimate good girl. I wanted everyone to like me. I didn't really have a voice. I was afraid of growing up.