All my life has revolved around sounds, voices, music. I’ve been playing one musical instrument of another since I was three. I grew up speaking multiple languages. Even when my brother was born deaf, the absence of sound in his life was a glaring reminder of its presence in mine.

Emphasis was always placed, both at home and at school, on making myself heard, speaking up, annunciating, projecting. I sang in choirs, performed in orchestras, took the lead roll in plays, jammed with jazz bands, competed on debate teams, and even rocked out with my own band. Countless hours were devoted to creating and perfecting all the ways I could produce sound, convey music, and utilize my voice.

Yet in all of that time, I never figured out how to have my own voice. Never once did I get the message, “Hey! If you need something, you need to ask for it.” In fact, somehow I missed the idea completely that I should even have the right to ask for what I need. When it came to personal needs and wants, I learned to be compliant and undemanding. To ask for my needs to be met was to be selfish, disrespectful, or just plain silly. Boy, I really lost the plot on that one.

Now I’m stuck going to the shrink every week to get my hippiechick, earthchild doctor to gently bludgeon that one lesson into my thick skull. Crap! Let me tell you. That is one expensive lesson to have missed the first time around.