The First Time I Heard My Own Voice

The first time I heard my own voice played back, I cringed.

Not because it sounded bad — though it definitely wasn’t studio-polished — but because it sounded real.

Unfiltered. Unedited. Mine.

There’s something strangely intimate about hearing yourself outside your own head. It’s like holding up a mirror and realizing that what you sound like to the world isn’t exactly what you sound like to yourself.

I think that’s where The Her Mood Podcast really began — not the recording itself, but that moment of hearing it back and deciding to keep going anyway.

I remember sitting there, headphones on, voice cracking mid-story, rambling through pauses that felt too long. I almost deleted it.

But somewhere in between “this sounds awful” and “this sounds honest,” something shifted.

Because what I heard wasn’t perfection — it was presence.

It was the sound of a woman finding her voice, literally.

When I finally stopped critiquing and started listening, I heard more than words.

I heard the weight of years spent making myself smaller. The hesitation of someone learning to take up space again.

And underneath it all — the faint, steady hum of truth.

The truth that my voice didn’t need to be perfect.

It just needed to be heard.

That day taught me something I still carry:

Your voice will never sound the same to you as it does to the world — and that’s okay.

You’re too close to the story to hear it clearly. But someone out there is waiting for it to sound like theirs.

So now, every time I hit record, I remember that first playback — that awkward, too-loud, too-soft, too-honest version of me.

Because that’s the one that started it all.