I keep trying to find her.
I like the idea of singing in front of people, strumming the 5 chords I know on my guitar (whose strings easily needed to be replaced 5 years ago), or just flowing with a band. I used to do this, you know. Every Sunday. Every single Sunday.
And every single time, I began afraid.
I was watching Avery Sunshine singing on Tiny Desk Concerts on NPR and I remembered. In her, I saw a glimpse of who I am and of who I’m supposed to be… and I remembered.
I remembered the little girl with so much potential, who used to write all the time… poems, songs, stories… but who was, perhaps, too aware and slightly afraid of her own voice, even then. And I still don’t know why.
So I’m watching this Tiny Desk Concert and wondering what’s stopping me. Trying to figure out why I can’t quite reach any further just yet. Wondering who’s voice I’m playing over and over in my head telling me that I only sound ‘okay’ when I sing, that my writing is average, that my paintings are nice, but not quite good enough… that my lips are too big, that I’m way too skinny, that my jheri curl wasn’t juicy enough… that…
I remember when I used to eat government cheese and white bread sandwiches so that I could one day get thick… when I used to safety pin my mom’s suits, with the shoulder pads in them, so that I could wear them and look professional as the 6th grade class president… when my confidence was shattered time and time again because some dumb kid said I wasn’t pretty and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
I remember when this once overly vibrant...
Punky Brewster loving…
ghetto superstar who composed original compositions and Joe Jackson-ed my cousins until they sung them right for our family night talent shows ...
double-dutch hating cuz it always ended up with somebody arguing…
no dance-moves-having cuz I was tall and lanky and not as coordinated as my cousins and they didn’t want me on their lil funky dance team so I ended up being the person who pressed play on the silly lil cassette tape so they could perform to Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’...
spelling bee winning, except that one time I was robbed of the city championship because the judges didn’t know that you could spell judgmental with and without an e and those goofy kids cheered when I lost cuz they were jealous of my unstoppability...
Easter speech champion of which I still recall the opening sentence complete with the intonations I exerted to really get the church ladies hollering...
Perhaps a potential child prodigy because of my 15 year old mommy’s determination to beat the odds...
started hiding.
And now…
Here I am…
Desperately
Still
Trying to find her.
Desperately
Still
Trying to shake her…
To wake her up…
To give her
Free.
Luckily… she’s finally within reach.
