The voice - my path

I grew up as the oldest - and only - daughter with four younger brothers. It was often loud. Lively. Beautiful, in its own way. But children adapt. And I often thought: I can't be loud too. Not wild as well. Not take up space on top of everything else.

 

So I became "the oldest." The "mature" one. The "reasonable" one. The big sister who looks after her little brothers. And I made myself a little quieter than I truly was.

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At eleven, in 1998, I stood on a stage. On national television. I was part of the "Mini Spice Girls" for a year. We appeared on TV, gave interviews, were in newspapers.

 

That was my moment.

My highlight.

My best year!

 

Cameras. Audience. Lights. Applause. It felt incredible.

 

And then came the other side. Comments. Probably jealousy. "She always wants to be the centre of attention. She's arrogant."

 

I heard it. And I didn’t know how to handle it. So I pulled back. Not completely - but enough. Enough to become careful. Enough to learn: being visible can hurt.

 

I became quieter.

 

My voice stayed.

But I held it back.

Out of fear of being too much.

Too loud.

Too present.

 

And still - the longing was always there. The longing for expression. For stage. For space.

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For years my mother said: "Vio, the Speech Academy - that would be your thing."

 

I loved the idea. And pushed it away. Too unrealistic. Not secure enough.

 

In 2020 I became a mother for the first time. A new life began. Corona. Everything shifted. Motherhood changed me deeply. And the miscarriage in 2023 marked me just as deeply - but also reminded me who I am. And who I want to be. In 2024 I became a mother again. Then came 2025 - a year full of decisions.

 

I decided not to return to my safe back-office job after maternity leave. I decided to follow my inner voice. I attended a trial day at the Speech Academy in Kemptthal - and immediately felt it: This is my space. My heart beats differently here.

 

And still, my mind began: Too expensive. Not enough time. Two small children. Already in another training. Maybe next year.

 

I had so many reasons why it wasn't the right moment.

 

And yet, not a single day passed without thinking about that school. About that voice inside me. About the desire to discover MY voice. To train it. To explore what it's truly capable of. In September 2025, I began my training as a voice artist.

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During my second one-on-one coaching session, just weeks later, a lecturer said a sentence that shifted everything:

 

“Violetta, you are never too much.”

 

It went deep.

Very deep.

 

In the recording studio I held back my tears. Later, alone in the car, they came. I realised how long I had made myself smaller. Quieter. More adjusted. How strong my protective walls had become. How big my fear of taking space was. This is not just about becoming "a nice dubbing voice." These are deeper layers. And I am ready to meet them NOW - to become free.

 

Again and again I heard:

"Your voice may take up more space."

"More volume."

"More presence."

 

One lecturer once said: "Your voice is allowed to sing, Violetta. I know you can."

 

That same day, I signed up for singing lessons.

 

Speaking in front of people was already a step. Singing in front of people felt like the most intimate thing imaginable. Standing naked in a crowd would have required less courage than singing fully dressed.

 

And yet - I received beautiful feedback. And I could hear it myself. My voice has potential.

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"It sounds like you open a window with your voice, sing out into the world - and then get startled by your own power and quickly close it again," my singing teacher observed.

 

That sentence stayed. It fit perfectly.

 

I began the voice training for fun. Without a concrete goal. Today, I feel: there is so much more here.

 

A space is opening where a part of me becomes visible - a part that has long stayed in the background. With every workshop, every experience, my ambition grows. I want to be a professional voice artist.

 

I want to use my voice.

In texts.

In my blog.

In a podcast.

In stories.

In readings.

In commercials.

In films.

In documentaries.

 

I want to break taboos. Because sentences like "We don’t talk about that" make me rebel. I want to use my voice to encourage. To inspire. To move people.