How I Found My Real Voice - Part II

Accepting that I was an emotional cripple who was keeping herself from her own vocal potential wasn't exactly easy, but at least I had Neil to guide me. His main goal was to help me learn to let go, but most importantly, think differently.

You see, I was basically asking myself to get over years of thinking that wasn't all that positive. To all my fellow one-time or current perfectionistic, Catholic-guilt recovering readers out there - I'm sure you'll be able to relate to some if not all of the expectations, to which I held myself accountable, described below.

I've only added a few because, you know, character limit and such.

For 23 years, some of the over-achieving tendencies I followed - in order to gain saint-hood, apparently - are organized by bullet points for your reading pleasure:

• Judge myself every time I did something wrong. Seriously. Especially musically. I had to be the best. Every single time.

"I shouldn't have breathed in the middle of that phrase even though my face was turning blue! I suck." 

• Expecting too much of myself when I was already doing too much, resulting in disappointment when I inevitably didn't have enough time or energy to do it all. 

"Rosie - stop it. You can TOTALLY go to your voice lesson, marching band, dance class, volunteer at the woman's shelter, help the little old lady cross the street, visit the sick, go to church and choir rehearsal all in one day!"... every single time.

• Never resting.

"Rest?! What? I've got things to do. Hello? Haven't you seen my schedule!". Every single... you get it already.

• Ask myself :

"What did you do, Rosie?!" when someone treated me badly. Clearly I was always, not just sometimes, the problem. Mea culpa. 

• Reminding myself, when applicable, that it is a terrible sin to even think negatively of someone else , resulting in my being kind at all times.... even when someone was treating me like a dirty rag - closest thing to an expletive I could use for purpose of comparison. This, to be honest, was probably the worst of the offenders. 

No example. Just have to always keep in mind little reminders from people like J. Cole: Love yourself, girl, or nobody will. 

And so began the process of learning to let go.



The Resolution

To overcome 23 years of self-deprecating thoughts, Neil had me do two very repetitive, yet deeply emotional exercises.

Warning: Some expletives will follow.

Part of the story, I promise.


Exercise # 1

Says Neil, "Because you refuse to be angry at anyone other than yourself, I want you to think of the people that have hurt you the most. Like made you reeeeeaaaalllly angry but you never said anything because you couldn't or wouldn't. Do it and yell at them in the mirror:  'Fuck you!'."

"Excuse me ..."
"... what?"

"Do it."

"...Fuck you."

"Come on. What's that? You're not angry. You're just saying it to say it. Yell it, loudly, and mean it. "FUCK YOU."

"Fuck you."

"Rosie. Stop trying to be polite. There's no way that phrase could ever be polite. Grab all the anger you have and say it!"

"...Fuck you. FUCK you. FUCK ... you."

*Serious face from Neil*
"Work on it Rosie. Practice at home."


Exercise #2

Says Neil, "Lay on the floor and don't do anything. Forget about everything. Just be present. Apologize to yourself for all the times you've hurt you."

"I'm sorry, Rosie."

"Rosie. You've put yourself through a lot in 23 years. Be truly sorry...and forgive yourself."

Tears running down my face -typical - recalling years and years of self inflicted mental and sometimes physical abuse.

"I'm so sorry Rosie. Sorry for everything I've put you through. Sorry I've mistreated you and hated you and didn't value you."

"Tell yourself you love yourself."

"But I don't..."

"Do it over and over again until you do."


I did this for weeks. Over and over I yelled at the mirror while I was at home and my mother would hear me and be mortified.
Mom: ¡¿Que es eso, NIÑA?!
Translation: What are you saying, young lady?!

Me: "Estoy practicando Mami."
Translation: I'm practicing, Mom.

I laid on the floor, crying and chanting "I love you, Rosie. Please forgive me." and my mother would be at the door asking me,
Mom: "¿Que te pasa ... Alguien te hizo daño?!"
Translation: What happened? Did someone hurt you?!

Me: "No, Mami. Estoy practicando."
Translation: No, Mom. Still just practicing.

Mom: "HA. Tremenda practica."
Translation: HA. Some practicing that is.

It's a Hispanic thing.

I did this until I started to let go, more and more each time. Every note sounding a little better. Every line of music sounding more authentic. So much more open and free. 

And it's funny. It somehow helped me to stop obsessing about what people thought of me so much, too. I thought I was "bad" less often- whatever being bad even meant. Maybe started to wean out the people and things that were keeping me down.

Don't get me wrong - it wasn't like I became Sophia Petrillo overnight or anything, but I started to learn to let go, which was evident during each and every lesson. Maybe it helped that I stopped listening to Adele and started listening to Beyoncé instead.

Who run the world? Girls. 

Whatever it was, I was dedicated to being better. Stronger. Enough that there was a specific moment in time where I, along with Neil, was able to pinpoint my musical breakthrough and find my real voice. It was one of the most beautiful, rewarding, overwhelming, monumental moments I had ever had with myself. And I feel blessed that I was able to tape that session and now share that personal, intimate, imperfect yet real moment with all of you below.

Ahem. Just do me a favor and don't mind the emotions that are evident in this recording. I was elated but it comes off as being a little too giddy.

I would like to end with a few words for the people who are reading this post, perhaps currently going through an artistic struggle or discovery, just like me: Never give up on looking for the true, most authentic artist within you. It doesn't matter what type of art it is or how long it takes you, what struggles you have to go through or what type of baggage you have to throw out in order to get there. It's never too late. And, more importantly, if it makes you happy, it's never not worth it. Just be brave and throw yourself into it - I'm learning to do that, too, along with the rest of the artists out there who have a dream. So, remember,  you're not alone :) Just know that as insignificant as it may seem, a reflection of the real you is being added to the great things of the world, which could never lack value.

Thanks for reading - xoxo, Rosie