Reclaiming My Voice: Healing the Inner Child Through Song

I’ve been posting more lately. More covers. More music. More of me.

Putting myself out there again hasn’t been easy—but it’s been powerful.

It’s been healing. Especially for the version of me that never felt fully heard.

Especially for the little girl inside me who used to sing her heart out… until people made her feel like she wasn’t good enough.

When I Was a Kid, All I Ever Wanted to Do Was Sing!

I sang everywhere.

In the mirror. In the car. Watching musicals. Watching Dreamgirls, The Wiz, Moulin Rouge, Cinderella—imagining myself on screen, imagining that maybe one day it could be me. That maybe someone would hear my voice and believe in it.

But that’s not what I got.

What I got instead were voices that sounded a lot like,

“You’re too pitchy.”

“You sound flat.”

“You’re too nasally.”

“You can’t hit that note.”

Then came the mocking. The imitation. The snickering after I sang.

The same people who tore me down would ask me to sing again just to mock me again.

It wasn’t playful. It was cruel. And it worked.

I stopped singing around them.

I stopped talking about music.

And eventually, I started shrinking that part of myself down.

Until one day, I didn’t know where she went.

I Had to Become My Own Support System

I wish I could say I had a supportive family. I wish I could say I had a built-in cheering squad.

But I don’t.

Most of my life, my only real support system has been me.

I had to fight for my own belief.

I had to remind myself that their words weren’t the truth. The bullying, the baiting, and snickering.

That my voice mattered. That my gift was still mine to hold and nurture and protect.

And now, years later—here I am.

Putting my voice out there again. Recording covers. Creating again.

And seeing people respond with love?

That has been healing in ways I can’t fully put into words.

Now, I’m Singing for Her

Every note I hit. Every lyric I post. Every time I share my voice online—it’s not just for me today. It’s for the girl who stopped singing because someone made her feel like she didn’t deserve to be heard.

Now I sing for her.

For the girl who cried silently after being mocked.

For the girl who sat in her room whispering her dreams into pillows so no one could hear and tell her they weren’t real.

For the girl who deserved love and encouragement and warmth and never got it.

I’m singing for her.

And now, I am that support system she needed.

The Bad Bitch Version of Me? She’s Still Soft. Just Louder Now.

Let’s be real—being an independent artist is hard.

It’s hard to put yourself out there. It’s hard to feel like you’re doing it alone.

But I’m not giving up. I love music too much.

And now I have a partner who encourages me.

I have a friend who shows up, who comments, who reminds me that people do care.

And most importantly—I have me.

The version of me who’s soft but no longer silent.

Who’s healed enough to create.

Who’s strong enough to share.

Who’s loud, proud, and singing again.

Final Word: Keep Singing

To anyone who was ever silenced, made fun of, discouraged, or mocked for their passion—I see you.

Your voice still matters. Your dreams still count.

And you don’t need anyone’s permission to show up fully.

Sing. Speak. Shout. Create.

For your inner child. For your future self.

And for the bad bitch you’ve always been becoming.