Why is it so hard to find and listen to our own inner voice? What happened along the way that we learned not to hear it? These questions have stayed with me for years, often surfacing when I’m faced with life’s quietest yet most profound moments.
A Childhood of Silence and Strength
I was born just over a year after my father returned home as a POW from Egypt. It was the mid-seventies, and no one truly understood post-trauma or the ripple effects it had on families. My father came back physically and mentally wounded, and our household bore the weight of that invisible pain. Just a generation before, my grandmother and mother had come to Israel, survivors of the Holocaust, carrying their own unspoken burdens.
As children, we learned to live with a constant duality. We were taught to be the best versions of ourselves, not for our own benefit and growth, but to avoid adding to the suffering of the adults around us. Pain was not discussed—it was buried. We focused on living in the present and planning for the future, but never paused to acknowledge past and the complexity of our inner worlds. Listening to yourself was not an option. It was a dangerous act in a world that didn’t give us the tools or language to process emotions.
In that void, I found refuge in books, art, and writing. These were the places where I could live through the feelings I did not know how to express any other way. My notebooks and drawings became my sanctuary, the only spaces that felt real to me. But even then, the duality of existence grew: outwardly strong, inwardly lost and sad.
The Universal Struggle to Be Heard
We all carry stories that shape us, whether they stem from family, culture, or life’s unexpected twists and turns. Across generations and geographies, the struggle to find our voice is a shared experience. For many, it starts in childhood—the quiet moments when we learn to hide parts of ourselves to fit in, to avoid pain, or to meet the expectations of others.
This struggle isn’t unique to me; it’s woven into the fabric of human existence. We grow up learning the rules of the world around us, often at the expense of our inner world. The courage to listen to ourselves—to push through the noise and the fear—isn’t something we’re taught. It’s something we learn, often through trial and error.
The Beginning of Listening
It wasn’t until I was thousands of miles away from home, during my college years in the U.S., that I began to truly listen to my inner voice. Something about the distance—both physical and emotional—allowed me to start learning this skill. In the bustling noise of New York City, amidst the chaos, I found quiet moments. Between brushstrokes in my studio or during long, snowy nights, I started to hear myself.
At first, it was painful. Listening revealed the parts of me I had long buried. But slowly, other elements began to bloom—a new language emerged. I began to see the woman I had become, and for a long time, I didn’t know what to do with her.
The Courage to Step Into the Unknown
So here I am, taking small steps each day. I allow myself acts of trust and discovery, even when the path feels unclear. I teach myself to be quiet, to read even if it’s just for five minutes, to write even when the words feel heavy or the effort seems pointless. Word by word, moment by moment, I keep going.
These small steps have become my lifeline, connecting me to the voice I had buried for so long. The journey of finding yourself isn’t a straight line—it’s full of stops, starts, and questions. And yet, the unknown holds a quiet gift: the opportunity to listen more deeply, to grow in ways you didn’t expect.
Each act of listening is an act of courage—a decision to trust in your ability to face whatever comes next. Growth doesn’t come from having all the answers; it comes from daring to take one step at a time, even in uncertainty.
"Do not be afraid of the unknown, for it is where your growth resides."
– Robin Sharma
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