Talent Show – Who Am I?
Brené Brown once said, “I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” Today, I want to share my story—one that feels vulnerable but important to tell. My hope is that it resonates with you in some way and empowers you to find the courage to embrace your own story, your authenticity, and the gifts that make you who you are.
This summer, while attending a drum facilitator training camp, we were told that part of the experience would be a talent show. The following is a story I wrote and shared at the event.
When the announcement came, my inner dialogue kicked in, loud and clear: “Talent? We’re having a talent show? I don’t have talent… Or do I?”
I froze. My breath stopped. My body tensed as I sat with those words, over and over, during our breaks or while lying in bed. I noticed the weight of those thoughts, how they landed in my body, and I asked myself: Where was this message coming from?
Conditioning. Old wounds.
As a child, I felt terrified to be seen and heard. I had selective mutism, only speaking to family and close friends, but freezing whenever I had to speak in school or to people in the ‘outside’ world. It’s hard to describe what that felt like. It was as though I’d been spotted by a tiger, and my body went into fight, flight, or freeze mode—usually freeze. Selective mutism is an anxiety disorder, one I’ve largely overcome, one that I’ve largely overcome, though it still reappears from time to time.
I often think of the chicken-and-egg dilemma: Which came first—the anxiety disorder or the trauma? It feels too simple to attribute it to just one cause because it’s far more complex than that. But in the interest of time, one piece of the trauma puzzle that I’ve been healing from my entire life was running from that ‘tiger’—my father’s belt—until I was cornered and froze.
The trauma? The anxiety? The mutism? I don’t know which came first, but I do know this: I was an extremely sensitive child. I was always told, “Don’t be so sensitive,” as if my sensitivity was a flaw. But my sensitivity also connected me to the world in deep ways. I cried at everything—TV commercials, Disney movies. When Bambi lost his mother or when Dumbo was mistreated, it was too much for my sensitive heart. In many ways, I now realize, I was like those characters—abandoned and abused.
As a child, I found solace in nature and I could spend hours playing in the woods, climbing trees, exploring paths, and floating in water. I was deeply attuned to the sights, sounds, and smells of nature, and how they soothed me. But as I grew older, I lost that connection. I lost a part of myself. Adulting happened, and I found myself in and out of marriages and relationships that repeated abusive patterns—until I finally broke the chain. Because it broke me.
Little by little, step by step, year by year, I began learning and practicing modalities that helped me heal. I reconnected with the things that brought me back to myself. Back to that little girl who found comfort in the rhythms and pulses of life, who longed to reconnect with love, harmony, and peace.
So, talent… I don’t know. What talent do I have to share?
I’m not a drummer…
but I drum.
I’m not a dancer…
but I dance.
I’m not a singer…
but I sing.
I’m not a fighter…
but I fight.
I fight the voices that tell me who I am NOT.
So, let me start over.
Hi, I’m Dee DiGioia.
DiGioia means ‘joy,’ – it’s a name I chose as part of my journey.
I am a drummer, and I will drum with you any day.
I will bring the joy of drumming to others in my community and beyond, encouraging those who, like me, have always wanted to drum but were afraid to try because we didn’t feel talented enough.
I am a dancer, and I will move without hesitation to connect with the universal rhythm of life itself—because it feels good and helps heal the frozen parts of me locked in fear.
I am a singer, and I will sing whenever I feel called, letting my heart and my voice harmonize with the earth, the wind, the water, the fire… and with you.
And now, I’d like to share a gift with you—a simple verse of a song. If you feel moved, I invite you to join in because, together, we are better. Add your voice, your harmony, and your spirit.
“Do what you love and love what you do,
And all good things will come to you.”
[Note: We sang these verses over and over at the Talent Show. Perhaps one day, we’ll sing it together! Watch for our new “One Voice One Heart Song Circles” coming soon!]
We often think we’re alone on our path, but we’re not. After sharing my story at camp, many people came up to me and thanked me for my vulnerability. They related to bits and pieces or encouraged me to keep up my talent for writing!
So here I am, still writing. Still fighting. Still sensitive. Still drumming, dancing, and singing my way back to joy, back to me, with all of you. ~ Dee DiGioia
This is a commercial that used to always choke me up when I was a little girl and I would have to leave the room to gather “control” of my emotions.
This is the original song (without Coca Cola reference)
