PANDORA'S BOX
"Little Voice"

"For most of my life, I allowed others to make me feel as though I had nothing to bring to the table. So, I just sat and listened. When you are continually talked at, you become silenced.

That is, until I became a mom to a beautiful little soul whose name is Crosby, who we also happen to call Croz, who just happens to be labeled as nonverbal and who also has autism. Having a child who is struggling to verbally speak with words is pretty much life writing me a hall pass to say to all the people who silenced me for so long, “It’s now time for you to shut up and listen!” And damn you for making me get permission in the first place. My son has given me back my voice, and because of him, life has given me the green light to finally speak.

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My seven-year-old son is a constant reminder that I do have a voice and, with that, comes a responsibility to speak for those who cannot. That’s life showing me that I can use my voice in a way that connects with others beyond just words. As one of my exes once told me, “Words are just words; it’s people who give them meaning.” I have never heard my baby boy verbally say, “I love you, Mom,” though I constantly fantasize about what his voice would sound like. Yet even without words, I know how much he loves me because I can feel it beyond what three simple words could ever say.

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I couldn’t have planned for that, but this is life. You choose to embrace it and adapt, or you end up spending a long time in a really dark place. I’ve seen that dark, even in what should have been the happiest of times—but it’s no place to live.

For decades, I have unwillingly found myself surrounded by people who had something to say when I didn’t want to hear it, but no one had anything valuable to say when I needed to hear it the most. The noise had gotten too loud, so I got to a point in my life where I was just tired of talking to people. Talking was more exhausting than life itself.

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It’s not because I didn’t care about the people who wanted to talk to me. It’s just that I started to really see what “talk” was about. When I quieted the noise, I started to see the difference between people who really, truly listened to what I was saying and others who only heard what they wanted to hear. I got tired of trying to talk to people and only getting a blank stare or change of subject in return. So, I stopped talking to those people. I also got really tired of just being talked at. Some people walk this earth acting as if they know it all, like they know everything about everything even if they have no fucking clue. So, I stopped giving others the invisible microphone to do so. And I got really tired of providing water cooler conversations for others, especially to people who could never understand what I was going through, so I just stopped talking.

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If you are someone in my life who I can sit with in complete silence, and still have an amazing conversation, you’re one of my people. If you can hear my cries without me telling you, you’re one of the true people in my world. My son has taught me this. He has taught me the art of existing within silence. He has shown me the beauty in looking beyond just hearing. And he has allowed me to appreciate strength in the quiet. It’s not about being the loudest in the room—the voice that isn’t commanding attention is usually the wisest voice; the one that doesn’t just hear but actually listens is the one that truly speaks. But that also doesn’t mean you should allow others to silence you, just because they can’t quiet themselves to hear what you have to say.

My entire life I thought it was a parent’s job to teach their child. But all Crosby has done since the moment he was placed in my arms has been to show me that he doesn’t exist to learn from this world—he’s here to teach the world how to live a more beautiful life. And what a powerful thing it is when you learn to quiet the noise of the outside world in order to truly listen to what the voice within is trying to say. It goes way beyond the spoken word. The ability to speak, and be heard, is taken for granted so easily.

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For so long, I didn’t speak. But because of my son, I finally will.

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Crosby Royce,
I love you to the depths of my soul.
Thank you for choosing me in this lifetime.

All of this to come is because of you."

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