Man, Sometimes It Takes a Long Time to Sound Like Yourself

“Man, sometimes it takes a long time to sound like yourself.” — Miles Davis

That quote has been weighing on me lately — in the best way possible. My life feels like a long, winding road back to my true voice. It's the one I had as a child. Back then, I wrote poems and short stories in notebooks. I played 'fantasy games' with my cousin. I flipped through books as if they held magic. I thrived in spelling bees.

When a beat or a song hit the radio, I would remake it in my own way, even before learning what it meant to cover a song. I always had a way with words. They were my tools, my sword, and sometimes my balm. I used them to uplift people. I may have also used them to tear others down. Occasionally, I spoke to be seen, while other times, I held my tongue to disappear. Even when I stuttered in school, people told me, “You can be a speaker. A writer.” They saw what I couldn’t.

Looking back, I realize now: communication is my gift.

A Journey Back to My Voice

Lately, I’ve felt a bit lost. I wonder if I can still write like that little girl from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. The girl who sat cross-legged in her room, surrounded by shoeboxes filled with cassette tapes. She collected torn notebook pages filled with lyrics from her favorite artists, adding her own twist to them. Her walls were covered in posters. One corner was a mini library built from her own hands.

Those days were pure. There was no fear, no filter. Just flow.

But somewhere along the way, that girl started to question herself. She began wondering if her words were only good enough if they were polished and run through Grammarly or cleaned up by ChatGPT to sound "professional" or digestible to everyone else.

Of course, I forgot my power lies in the raw. My strength comes from how I freestyle, how I write what flows naturally — raw and real. I’m in the messy middle. I let the words flow first, fixing them later, or perhaps not at all. So that’s what I’m doing now: flowing.

The Impact of Our Roles

I’ve been contemplating the roles we play in each other’s lives. A stranger can shift your mood. A simple conversation can plant a seed in your spirit. Any interaction—whether short or long, intentional or organic—can leave you changed.

This line of thought led me to realize that there are six roles we assume with every person we meet. Sometimes, we play multiple roles at once, while at other times, one role is enough to shift everything.

Teacher or Student

In every moment, there’s a lesson to learn. Every soul offers a lesson.

Consider the young man at the corner store, the little boy on the bus, or the elderly woman in the grocery line. Sometimes you teach, and other times, you learn.

In challenging situations, I ask myself: What are they here to teach me? Or What am I meant to pass on?

Sower or Waterer

We are all gardens, and we are all gardeners.

Many carry seeds planted in them long ago—seeds of shame, doubt, insecurity, and fear. When we meet these individuals, we often see just the fruit of these seeds.

How do we respond? We can either water what's already growing or we can sow something better. That might be a little hope, faith, joy, love, laughter, or understanding. A little humanity. This realization is why I’ve begun moving more intentionally, tending to the gardens I encounter, even if it’s just with a smile or a kind word.

Builder-Up or Breaker-Down

This one struck me hard because we have a choice.

We each get to decide whether we build people up or break them down. Both roles have a purpose in transformation, growth, and alignment. Even breaking can be sacred. Remember, glow sticks shine after they’ve been broken, and the roots of a palm tree strengthen as it bends.

Here’s the catch: you can’t be both in someone’s life.

If you’ve broken someone—intentionally or unintentionally—you may not be the one who can put them back together. And that’s okay. Your role might have been to spark awareness in them, but healing? That might not be your assignment.

Sometimes, your role is simply to awaken, to stir, or to crack open a shell— not to mend it. You must know when it’s time to step aside and let someone else come in.

Someone who has come to pour, not to shatter. Someone who came to love, not to test. Someone who chooses to build without first causing harm.

You played your part. You’ve delivered your lines. Now, it’s time to exit stage left.

Yes, stepping aside can be hard, especially when you want to see someone rise or maybe you didnt mean to hurt someone intentionally....Yet sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is cheer silently from the sidelines. I’ve played all these roles, and I’ve encountered them too—each one teaching me more about who I am and who I no longer want to be.

So, that’s what I’m doing from now on....Flowing. Unfiltered. Free.

Letting the words come as they are. This is what it sounds like when I’m truly me. Not always polished—though I can be if I choose. Not perfect—but trust that I can speak with clarity, eloquence, and power when it truly matters.

Sometimes I’m raw and blunt; other times, I’m soft and graceful. I’m layered like that. I am multidimensional, contradictory, and a bit of an enigma.

And still, I'm me. I’m present, real, and still worthy.

Maybe that’s the point: stop trying to fit into one version of yourself and let all of you be heard.

“Sometimes it takes a long time to sound like yourself.” But once you do, once you finally hear your own voice clearly, you discover something deeper: Your voice isn’t just for you.

It’s for those you are meant to teach, to learn from, to plant seeds within, to water, to build up or gently crack open—so they can shine and grow in ways they forgot were possible.

Every word, every role, every encounter—it all starts with being yourself and sounding like yourself. Only then can you show up in others’ lives in the way The Divine Creator intended.

Conclusion: The End or The Beginning

So here I am, navigating the twists and turns of life. I am committed to sounding like myself and embracing all my dimensions. It’s a journey worth taking, one word at a time. The end of one chapter is just the beginning of another.