Louder Than Fear

Little Liv wasn’t sure if the thudding in her chest was her heart or an echo of the drums thudding downstairs. She covered her ears with her hands. She could still hear and feel the pounding. Her body quaked a little and there was that funny tightness building in her throat that meant her eyes would start leaking soon.

She thought of taking her hands off from her ears long enough to hold the rails and go downstairs. It would be louder there, and scarier, but maybe she could tell Daddy that it was too noisy and the drums would stop altogether. 

But that didn’t work last time. Last time, he was upset because he liked to play the drums. He worked hard and deserved to play for a little bit, he had told her. Then he yelled at her with his big booming voice to stop crying because it was a waste of time. That was worse than the drums. 

So Liv tucked herself under her covers, pressed one ear to her pillow and covered the other with her hand. She held tight to her teddy bear and shut her leaky eyes. Daddy deserved to play and be happy. It would just be for a little bit. She could be brave for a little bit.

---

Liv thought she must have always been pretty brave. According to her parents, when she was still in Mommy’s tummy she would curl up into a ball whenever the vacuum was on. When she was born she would cry when the light turned off in the incubator.

Now she was even braver. She could go downstairs at nighttime by herself for water now, and she didn’t cry when the vacuum or the washing machine was on or when Daddy played music too loud. In fact, she didn’t even cover her ears anymore when she flushed the toilet. She was pretty proud of that.

But there was always more to learn, just like Daddy said. That’s what she thought about when she stopped herself from singing in the car on the way to school. Last time, Daddy said she was being too loud, so this time she just sang in her head.

She was excited to go to school today. It was show and tell day in her 2nd grade class, and it was the first time that her teddy bear was coming with her. Nothing could bring down her spirits.

They got to school early, so Liv had time to rest in the car. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to play spy with her teddy bear though. She slipped down from her booster seat and crouched down on the ground with her bear. Every few minutes she would pop up and peek out the window to see if anyone was passing by. It was all fun and games being sneaky until Daddy had something to say about it.

“Why are you hiding?” he asked.

“Because I’m playing spy,” Liv told him.

Then he made a very serious face and looked her straight in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not hiding because you’re embarrassed about your booster seat?”

“I’m sure.” she said.

“Are you telling me the truth, Olivia?” he asked with his loud, booming voice.

Liv hesitated as her heart started to thud in her chest. That voice meant she was in trouble. She thought hard about his question.

Earlier this week, she had told him about being one of the only ones who still needed a booster seat. Her classmates were all bigger than she was. Nobody else needed one but her. That was why he thought she was embarrassed. 

But even he could be wrong. “I’m telling you the truth. My teddy bear and I are playing spy,” she told him. She was supposed to always tell him the truth.

But the serious look on his face didn’t fade. Instead he lectured her on how she ought to tell him the truth, how he knew she was embarrassed about her booster seat. He used his booming voice the whole time because lying was a terrible thing to do.

Liv nodded along, her heart thudding the whole time. Her throat got tight and she wanted to cover her ears again. But she had to be brave. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy. You’re right. I’m embarrassed,” she said as the tears leaked from her eyes. She wiped them away silently as his tone softened and the lecture ended.

----

Liv learned a lot from her dad. She learned that telling the truth was important. But if she wanted to avoid being yelled at, it was better to tell the truth her dad saw. 

She learned to value her health and safety, her family, and the idea of financial security and independence. She learned that education was the best way to achieve that and dove into her academics. After another lecture, she learned that the best way to learn was to shut up and listen.

She learned that crying wouldn’t accomplish anything except convincing people that she was weak and emotional. So, she had to be brave and control her emotions, especially because she was a girl. If she didn’t, nobody would take her seriously.

---

By the time Liv was in college, she had a good handle on the rules and lessons. She was as close to perfect as she could achieve. She listened and never rebelled. She worked hard to do well and to tuck away her feelings. She got over the way her heart thudded and throat tightened. 

It was oddly happening more often--before tests, anytime there was room for mistakes, anytime she had to do something new. But she pushed through it. She had to be brave.

It paid off. She was an A-student in high school. Now she was on her way to earning an engineering degree with high honors, then a good job,  a house, and independence.

She was doing well. Everything was great, right? Except for the part where those heart-pounding throat-tightening moments were happening more often. The part where she wanted to do things that she didn’t have time for anymore--like reading and writing and painting and singing and going to the beach. The part where she barely had enough time to do all of her schoolwork to an acceptable degree of perfection while also sleeping, eating, showering, and keeping her emotions at bay--they were starting to get out of hand… Did that make her weak?

She was starting to wonder if this was worth it. She didn’t understand why she kept crying. Why it was getting harder to eat lunch. Why did she keep thinking about how it would be so much easier to lay down and sleep forever? That couldn’t be right. She would just have to tuck that thought away. It was all okay. She was okay. She just had to keep being brave because she was doing so good.

Her parents were proud of her. Her father had said so, but there was always room for improvement. According to him, this time it was in her confidence.

That latest lecture had been a long one. He told her that she needed to speak up and be more confident in herself. Companies wanted to hire confident people and she would have to be better than everyone else because she was a girl. They wouldn’t want a little girl with no voice. It couldn’t be that hard--she was a 4.0 student after all. He couldn’t fathom why she doubted herself, why she was always so anxious. Just be more confident.

She made the mistake of telling him that she was making an effort--she had joined choir and it challenged her on a daily basis to be brave enough to sing out and support her section. 

Nothing was enough unless her father could see it and quantify it. Suddenly, she was back to being a little girl playing spy with her teddy bear. 

After that lecture, her eyes had leaked again. They had been doing that more often too. It was frustrating, but she wasn’t going to let leaky eyes get in the way of her goals. If anything, it made her more determined to push herself.

That was how she ended up auditioning for the choir solo. It was an opportunity to improve.

The solo was a beautiful piece. It was melancholy and soft in the beginning then built in tension into something glorious. It was in Latin, like many choral pieces, so Liv wasn’t entirely sure about the meaning behind the words, but the music itself spoke to her.

When her turn came, she stood up in front of the rest of the choir. The piano started and she sang at her cue. Her heart thudded much faster than the tempo, sending little tremors through her legs. The beginning went well--she hit every note perfectly--but the build up sent her crashing. When she pushed into the crescendo her voice cracked and her throat tightened until she was singing in a mere whisper. 

At the end of the solo, she was met with silence. She saw rather than heard the smattering of courtesy applause. The pounding in her chest fueled her escape as she excused herself.

She went for a breath of fresh air outside, only to find theater students rehearsing monologues. The noise beat against her ears like a drum. Involuntarily, pressure bloomed behind her eyes and tears leaked out. Liv hurried to a bathroom stall and didn’t come out until she schooled her eyes into submission. 

By the time Liv returned, the choir rehearsal was over. Everyone had left except the director.

“Are you alright, Liv?”

She smiled even as she felt the tension building in her chest and throat. “Yes, of course. I just… had a case of stage fright.”

The director nodded. “You were doing great up until the crescendo.”

Liv laughed it off. “I’m not very good at singing loudly.” It had been a while since she had.

“Why don’t we give it another shot?”

Liv couldn’t bring herself to say no. She rarely ever denied adults their requests. 

As it did during the audition, each time the music built and her voice would start to grow, a thrum of panic would lodge itself in her throat until her voice died out. “I-I can’t. I can’t sing loud.”

The director disagreed. “You’re holding back and tensing up. You can’t sing properly if you’re tense. Try singing this scale as loudly as you can. Easy-peasy.”

It wasn’t. It felt wrong. The very act of being loud made Liv feel like a child facing the toilet flushing, the vacuum, and the drums. Her heartbeat seemed to challenge her in seeing which could be louder. Each beat was a taunt, daring her to showcase her vocal mistakes. She was failing.

“Louder!”

Liv resisted the urge to cover her ears. She pushed harder. Her voice continued to strain and crack.

The director stopped playing scales. "It's like you're afraid of being loud." At her hesitation, she paused and softened her tone. "Is that it?"

Liv swallowed and thought through the situation.

"Liv?"

"What if I mess up? Again?" She voiced her fear and braced herself for a scolding. 

The director smiled at her instead. She explained, "You can’t get this high up in your range without being louder. You have to support it and that makes it loud. You can do it. I know you can. You just have to be louder than your fears."

After a beat, she said, “Repeat after me.” Then she sang, “I am louder than my fears!” in a bright melody.

Liv repeated it.

“I am louder than my fears!” She went up in pitch and in volume.

Liv parroted her. They ascended in key and built up to a belt. Liv focused on mirroring the director’s notes and technique mostly, but a little part of her was caught on the words. Like a loose thread, the lyrics caught on that little jagged edge inside of her, that poked and prodded until she was bleeding fear. 

The idea felt so unreasonable and foreign, but with every iteration, she tried to believe it a little more. She flung herself into it.

She could be louder than her fears.

At the last repetition, the director switched to singing the solo.

Liv sang it back. Her body opened up and the sound poured out of her, rising and falling like a wave. She sounded pure and round and full. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid to be loud. As she sang out, her body released tension that she didn’t even know had been there.

At the end of the solo, Liv was surprised to find her cheeks wet. She hurriedly wiped them away, stealing a glance at the director. 

“That was perfect!” she bellowed, still in a loud mode. She smiled broadly. “How did that feel?”

Liv laughed. “It felt great.”

It felt great to be loud.

She could be louder than her fears.

Liv left the choir room with more than just the solo on her mind. She was afraid of being loud. It left her stunned when she realized that growing up, she had been encouraged to be quiet. She had been raised to silence herself and to shut up her emotions and any sign of weakness. All these years, she had filled herself up with her doubts and fears, every emotion she couldn’t trust herself to feel, and now she was overflowing. She was filled to the brim and leaking under the pressure of new expectations.

Before, she was praised for being quiet, timid, studious, and cooperative like little girls were expected to be. But now as a young woman, she was expected to be outgoing, confident, and competitive enough to conquer the workplace one day. She had been raised to be a housecat and was now expected to roar. 

But she had lost her voice. She had drowned it out with her own fears and feelings. 

Now she would let it all out. No more covering her ears. No more hiding anything. It was time for a new kind of bravery.

Liv would be louder than her fears.