Singing saved my life:

…not in one dramatic moment, but slowly, over years of self-discovery and discipline. My voice was more than a way to capture audiences, or give art to the world; it was how I “spoke” and shared my literal voice, and ultimately my compass. Everything in my life, from what I ate to where I lived, revolved around protecting it. Because my body was my instrument, health became my north star.

Early on, I learned that an unhealthy body equals an unhealthy voice. There’s no separation between the two. I avoided people sneezing and sniffling, stayed away from smoking (when I was in college in NC you could still smoke in bars!!), and even when I worked as a bartender to support my career, I hardly ever drank. I focused on lowering inflammation, eating well, and staying balanced - because the state of my voice reflected the state of my body.

Growing up in North Carolina (I did actually grow up in a city), few people I knew ever left the state. Aspiring to such an ambitious career, though… it gave me something to reach for. My aspirations carried me across the country and all over the world. Ultimately, pursuing this career gave me so much worldly opportunity not only in travel, but forever friendships too. 

My journey wasn’t without struggle. The home I grew up in carries the imprint of several generations of complex-trauma. Combined fears of being seen, being perfect, about being “good enough,” but also not too much, followed me into my singing career. My nervous system was constantly in overdrive when it came to auditions, and though I ultimately walked away, it was the need to find calm and peace for my singing that led to healing my nervous system.

Over the years, I came to realize that singing didn’t just give me a career - it began to heal my nervous system.

I spent years trying to understand why I would lose my voice after fights, or tough auditions, or even just moments of deep emotional stress. It wasn’t because I was overusing or damaging my vocal cords. It was because my body was remembering. I grew up in a home where I didn’t have a voice. I was constantly talked over, interrupted, and invalidated. I learned to suppress myself, keep my emotions small, never fight back. My voice had been silenced long before I ever set foot on a stage.

In a panel discussion once, someone asked a group of us why we sing. Others spoke about art, history, or connection with the audience. I had a hard time voicing my ‘Why’… “Because I love it. It makes me feel free????”

It took years of therapy to understand the weight of that statement. Singing gave me something I didn’t have as a child: permission to speak, to take up space, to be heard. When I sang, my voice wasn’t fighting to exist - it just was. Singing protected my body from holding onto trauma. It gave me a place to release, to move emotion through, to feel safe in my own sound.

Even now, I still wrestle with the fear of being seen. Speaking truth in my personal life can feel terrifying. But performing - standing under the lights and letting my voice fill a room - that was where I first learned what freedom felt like. 

Over time, I began to understand that singing was teaching me more than musicianship - it was teaching me about wholeness. The act of using my voice was both emotional and physiological. It revealed the intricate ways my mental health and physical health were intertwined. I started to connect how my nervous system, my environment, and my body were all part of one instrument. 

That realization set me on a mission to uncover why I was constantly vocally fatigued, and felt like I caught every cold - which also led to losing my voice, even though I was doing “everything right.”

In the last year of undergrad, my voice teacher encouraged me to seek answers from an ENT.. They offered treatments that felt like patching holes in a sinking ship. I couldn’t help but wonder: if something was bad for the whole, how could it possibly be good for the part? That question led me down the biggest rabbit hole of my life. I sought out the best specialists (holistic and allopathic), enrolled in courses, and earned certifications. The more I learned, the more I knew other singers needed to know this information. 

Trying to heal my voice ultimately (like many, many years) led me to discover staggering levels of mold toxicity and other [squatting] pathogens in my body that would have contributed to very critical conditions later in life. 

Looking back, I realize that singing wasn’t just my career. It was my survival mechanism. It gave me a reason to care about my body, to stay out of destructive habits, to seek calm and clarity.

Singing may have been what got me started, but health (in physical, mental, emotional, and even spiritual) became my north star. This calling didn’t just save my life, it’s provided me with a truly great one.