For anyone whose voice shakes when it matters, or who swallows what they really need to say.
When I talk about the psychology of voice, people often hope or expect to learn tactics for being heard, understood, and taken seriously, based on studies that show which pitch, accent, body language, or tone audiences best respond to. There can be real value in considering how we come across when we communicate, yet I don't offer tips and tricks that promise to endow you with an artificial air of authority, confidence, or persuasiveness. My passion lies in wholehearted, authentic communication. As a practitioner, I explore how our thoughts, emotions, and physical states shape how we express ourselves, and specialise in communication, trauma recovery, relationships, and a body-focused approach to wellbeing.
The interface between inside and outside
When I think of voice, I think about being heard, speaking out against things we find unacceptable, advocating for ourselves or others, performing or presenting in front of an audience, and the physical mechanics of speaking or singing.
Things that can get in the way include the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, the messages we received from our parents or caregivers, how we're feeling physically, and how safe we feel in the environment where we're trying to be heard. It's impossible to truly separate the mental, emotional, and physical aspects of voice. That's one of the reasons I'm so fascinated by it. The voice is the physical interface between our internal and external worlds.* A thought is an internal process, but when we choose to speak that thought or express that emotion, it exists outside our body.
Can you think of a time when you wanted to cry but made the decision to fight back the tears? Felt that lump in the throat as you attempted to swallow your feelings because it didn't feel safe or socially acceptable to let them out? That's a clear example of how our emotions, vocal apparatus, and communication interact with each other.
When the voice gives out
How safe we feel and our internal self-talk have an immediate impact on what comes out of our mouths, and how. Before I understood the physiology behind this, I experienced it first-hand.
As a teenager, I was training in classical singing. Though I was a born performer with a flair for the dramatic, I suffered terribly with performance anxiety – a term I wasn't familiar with at the time, when we just called it nerves and were told to toughen up. The more formal the environment, the more nervous I became. My breathing turned erratic and my voice shook fearfully. On several occasions, I auditioned for roles that allowed me to show a more playful, exuberant side. Directors expressed shock at the sudden transformation, while I just thought: 'This is how I really sound!'
Years later, disaster struck. A perfect vocal storm, involving a severe bout of bronchitis, a load of unprocessed trauma, and chronic exhaustion, led to me completely losing my voice. A combination of surgery, vocal rehabilitation, breathwork, and performance psychology support helped me find it again. A key aspect of that recovery was building solid therapeutic relationships. I had to trust the practitioners coaching me with some of the things most precious to me: my emotions, my stories, and my voice. That's something I hold in mind as a coach; I remember how vulnerable I felt and how vital it was to be treated with care.
As I learned about what was stopping me from expressing myself fully, the first lesson was about body armour.
Body armour and the unsaid
In somatic practice, body armour describes how we tense and brace our musculature when we feel threatened, often holding onto that tension long after the danger has passed.
Fear had me tied in knots, so physically tight that I struggled to express myself. To use our voices clearly, we need the support of our diaphragm and core muscles, alongside a steady flow of breath. The tension we carry in our neck, jaw, throat, chest, and shoulders when we're stressed, anxious, or under pressure can severely choke that physical support.
Alongside physical bracing, I went on to explore the unsaid. What were the things I didn't feel safe enough to say? What messages had I absorbed growing up about the acceptability of particular emotions? What was I telling myself when I felt those feelings, and how was my body responding? Making sense of what was happening under the surface yielded surprising results, and the improvements in my communication were tangible.
Building internal safety
I rebuilt my performing experience from scratch, starting with audiences of people with whom I'd built relationships of trust, and moving outward from there.
Vocally, I'm still more sensitive than I once was to physical, emotional, or environmental changes, but that sensitivity often acts as a helpful guide. My voice lets me know what I need, and reliably communicates how I'm feeling.
Being heard and understood tends to require the courage to be vulnerable. That courage can come partly from trust in yourself and the people around you. Yet there won't always be someone in the room who feels safe when you need to speak up. In those moments, we can learn to build feelings of internal safety.
While the specifics differ for each person, a good place to start is sending the breath down into your belly to engage the diaphragm, feeling the ground firmly beneath your feet, and consciously releasing tension from your shoulders, neck, and jaw. Communicating honestly and boldly is a skill you can keep developing: speaking your truth, even if your voice shakes.
Working together
If you experience vocal tension, performance anxiety, or find that your voice locks up when you need to speak about things that matter, somatic coaching and breathwork can help you build the internal ground to speak with presence.
Explore 1:1 support on my Coaching page, learn how breath supports vocal resonance on my Breathwork page, read my companion guide If You Can Talk, You Can Sing, or book a free discovery call to discuss where we might start.
If you have persistent hoarseness or concerns about your physical vocal health, please consult your GP or a qualified ENT clinician first.
*See 'The Singer's Psyche' – research by Dr Denise Borland for more on the psychology of voice.