Finding My Voice Again (20 Days at a Time)

Last month, I did something that scared me more than almost anything I've done in years: I sang, out loud, on camera, every single day for 20 days.

If you've been part of the Here We Grow family for a while, you know singing has never been the scary part for me. I've been singing with your kiddos in circle time for over a decade. I trained in musical theatre. I've stood on professional stages. Singing is, in so many ways, home for me.

So why did 20 days of it feel like the bravest thing I'd done in years?

Because somewhere along the way, I made myself smaller.

Not on purpose. Not in one dramatic moment. It happened the way it happens to so many of us - a little at a time, in the space between raising kids, building a business, and pouring myself into everyone else's growth. I became so used to being the one who holds the space for other people to find their voice, their confidence, their joy, that I quietly stopped taking up that space myself. My own voice, the trained, expressive, mine voice, got tucked away for safekeeping.

The 20-day challenge was my way of taking it back out.

Why I Started

I didn't set out to make it a tidy, produced project. I set out to be honest. Each day, I showed up with whatever voice memo or reflection I had in me that day, and I sang - sometimes strong, sometimes shaky, always real. I built it one day at a time, each one asking something a little different of me, each song peeling back another layer of what I'd been holding onto or holding in.

What It Was Like

Some days were easy and joyful - my daughter jumping in beside me, my son cracking me up between takes, my husband (who has known my voice since we were fourteen years old, auditioning for performing arts high school together) reminding me why I fell in love with this in the first place.

Other days were harder. I sang for my grandmother Mimi, who I lost, and felt her right there with me. I sang in honor of Michael Larsen, the mentor who first saw something in me as a young performer and never let me forget it. My friend Melissa showed up too - a fellow singer and family music teacher who walked with me through the early, tender years of new motherhood. Having her there felt like a full-circle kind of support.

Some days I threw my own little temper tantrums before I hit record. Some days I laughed at how silly I felt. Every day, no matter what, I ended the same way…with my voice still showing up and my heart wide open.

That became my anchor. It was true even (especially) on the days I didn't feel brave at all.

Where I Landed

Twenty days in, I didn't land on some perfectly polished version of myself. I landed somewhere better: back in my body, back in my voice back in the truth that I am, and have always been, a performer and a teacher in one - and that both of those things get to take up room.

I also landed on something I want to say directly to you, my dear community: your voice is allowed to be loud, imperfect, and yours - no matter how many years you've spent making room for everyone else's. That's true for your children in our music circles, learning that their voice matters before they even have words for why. And it's true for you, the grown-up in the room, who maybe hasn't sung out loud - really out loud - in a long time.

That's what Here We Grow has always been about, at its core. Not just teaching children to find their voices through music. Modeling, ourselves, what it looks like to keep showing up with an open heart, even when it's scary.

So if there's a version of you that's been tucked away for safekeeping - I see her. And I hope, in whatever small way, this encourages her to come back out too.

Voice still showing up. Heart wide open.

With so much love,

Taryn

If you want to see the whole 20 days - the shaky ones, the joyful ones, the ones when my family jumped in - come find me over on Instagram at @motheringwithlight. That's the home for this part of my journey, and I'd love for you to be part of it.