There’s a story we tell ourselves. For me it began when I was 4 years old. My parents were immigrants from Cyprus who spoke Greek at home. They arrived off the boat (well plane) in Minneapolis, then Annapolis where I was born and landed in Knoxville, TN finding roots; because my late father was given tenure as a professor of physics at the a university of Tennessee. He was from a farming family in the village of Kato Zodia and my mom was from an adjacent village where her family had orange groves, a movie theater and a carpenter’s household. My maternal grandfather built 3 homes; one for each of his daughters leaving the eldest son to fend for himself.
From the day they landed in the US to 1974, my parents had 2 children with a trip back to Cyprus to visit family in 1973 (when my brother was born) and a new home in the suburbs. That is when a lot changed.
I remember being 4 years old in pre school. North Knoxville in the rental across the street from the train tracks. My mother would tell me…say “good morning teacher.” It was such an effort to remember the words as I spoke and thought in Greek. I had been in nursery school for several weeks with a language barrier. I walked up to my teacher proudly …words…I had words to say. I blurted out in Greek, kalymera thaskala, and she looked at me like I was an alien (well immigrants are called that in 2026) and I walked away with my little head down in shame. But that’s not what caused selective mutism.
Paint
Imagine a classroom full of 4 year olds with paint easels, brushes and acrylic paint. Well the paint spilled and yours truly walked right through it getting it all over herself. There was a group of teachers and they scolded me for spilling the paint. I don’t remember spilling the paint. 22 years later with a masters degree in counseling I had lived selectively mute and carried the deep rooted clinical anxiety through my career. It wasn’t until I was coached at Panera by Sandy Smith that I began to realize how much my life and career had been held back from the lack of skill in public speaking. Up until 2019 I had a space to guide clients individually, in small groups and family sessions; I had the lead. Never would I give a presentation unless it was to my clients who were under my professional care. It’s a different dynamic than public speaking of any kind. It was safe. I was not only accepted; I was respected.
When the pandemic happened in 2020, I had just turned 50. Being shut down a lot of us sought coaching and I found myself in a group of creatives studying The Artist Way with Julia Cameron. The in person conference was delayed so the organizers kept us busy with online offerings for painting and writing. It was then that I began to connect the dots. I was so blocked from painting and I revisited the moment I was shamed and falsely accused and scolded by the authority figures of my life as a 4 year old. I realized I was safe as the authority over my audience as the therapist expert protecting me. Well as a public speaker there are so many amplified out of control variables. My pathway to speaking began with picking up the paint brush and painting. Then I wrote. Now I speak. I had to go back to paint and it was emotional.
I found my voice. I listened for 50 years and now I speak. I have a lot to say. This isn’t my first podcast interview, however it’s the most interesting and real one. I’ll be sharing this story, how I found my voice. I’ll also share how menopause became such a part of my speaking and believe me this wasn’t something I planned or aspired to be known for. Now I’m advocating in the women’s health space and my voice is being heard.
Join Tuesday August 4th at 11:30 EST LinkedIn Live and interact with us during our conversation in the chat. https://www.linkedin.com/video/event/urn:li:ugcPost:7487938448876539905
Listen when the show drops Thursday August 6th
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