My Voice is in the Doing

How I speak through action

I finally found my voice on TikTok, and the secret is that I don’t speak. I’ve been making these silly fit check videos—they’re quick, funny, and entirely me. For once, I’m not overthinking how I come across. It’s playful and simple, a space where I feel free to express myself without having to say anything at all.

I’ve been thinking about why this works for me. Maybe it’s because talking—really talking—has always been hard.

just 4 fun on TikTok

Growing Up Quiet

As a teenager, I spent most of my time hiding in my room. I avoided life, family, friends—anything that required me to engage. I felt disconnected, unsure of how to express myself or even if I wanted to.

But then came AOL. Suddenly, I had an outlet. Chat rooms became my escape, a way to connect with people beyond the quiet house I grew up in. I’d stay up until 3 a.m. talking to friends in California, letting my humor and personality pour through my fingertips. It made me the fastest typer in my typing class—fingers flying, brain alive.

Typing felt natural in a way speaking didn’t. I didn’t have to overthink what I was saying or how I was coming across. I just wrote, and everything I wanted to say came out.

The Struggle to Speak

Every time I get on a Zoom call, I feel a sense of dread. It doesn’t matter if it’s a meeting, a pitch, or a 1:1 conversation—I never know who the person on the other side of the screen is going to be, or how I’ll come across to them.

The moment the call starts, my brain splits into two planes. On one, I’m trying to say what needs to be said. On the other, I’m analyzing myself in real time: Am I talking too much? Do I sound dumb? Should I ask more questions? Are they bored? The constant observation is exhausting.

In interviews, it’s even worse. I panic. My brain goes blank. Words disappear. I become a nervous, bumbling weirdo. And the stakes feel so high.

Every bad interview feels like a door slamming shut. Like I’ve been left behind again, unable to grasp the next step in my career. My silence and inability to fully perform make me question my future. I know action is my strength, but action only gets you so far. People want the full show—voice, body, presence, and confidence.

Action as Proof

In the early days of building my company, I didn’t try to convince people to believe in me. I just made things happen.

I created the vision, built the product, brought the community together, and kept going—even when it felt impossible. I knew that no one would hand me credibility or trust based on my words alone. I had to show them what I could do.

Hannah Arendt writes about action as the highest expression of human individuality and agency. In her view, action is how we reveal ourselves to the world and make an impact that’s uniquely our own. It doesn’t just show what we can do—it shows who we are. Unlike words, which can sometimes feel scripted or performative, action creates an undeniable truth. You can read more about Arendt’s thoughts on action here: Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.)

For me, action is where my voice comes through loud and clear. It’s not about convincing people; it’s about showing them.

Ironically I verbalized my thoughts in this TikTok:

Why Action is my Voice

Action is quiet. It doesn’t require me to perform or match someone else’s energy. It doesn’t pull me into the endless loops of self-critique that talking does.

Action is also undeniable. You can question my tone or demeanor in a conversation, but you can’t question the things I’ve built.

Arendt describes action as relational and transformative—it happens within a shared space where others witness and respond to what we do. That’s what makes it so powerful. Through action, we create stories that connect us to others and leave a mark on the world.

I feel most like myself when I’m creating or collaborating with people who understand me. In those moments—whether it’s brainstorming ideas, building something from scratch, or bouncing thoughts back and forth with a trusted friend—I feel clear, connected, and joyful.

I miss those moments. I crave them. Because so much of my time now feels like being on the other plane, stuck in the ruminations, trying to say the right thing and never fully getting there.

The Desire to be Whole

I don’t hate my voice. I’ve had moments—on panels, podcasts, or in deep conversations—where I’ve felt confident, funny, even compelling. When I’m talking about something I love, or with people who truly see me, the words flow.

But in the spaces that feel transactional—Zoom meetings, job interviews, pitches—I fall apart. The constant push and pull between expression and self-critique is overwhelming.

I want to be better at those moments. I want to feel confident, present, and quiet the endless rumination. I want my voice, body, and actions to align so that I can step into every opportunity fully and without fear.

Conclusion: Speaking Through Action

Maybe I’ll never be the person who nails every meeting or interview. Maybe I’ll always feel a little weird and vulnerable when I speak.

But I’ve learned that my voice doesn’t have to sound a certain way. It’s in the things I build, the ideas I bring to life, and the connections I create.

Words might fail me, but action doesn’t. For now, that’s what I hold on to. And maybe, with time, I’ll find a way to bring the full show together.

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If you’re ready to take action on your own ideas, I created the 30-Day Starter Kit to help. It’s a step-by-step guide to clarifying your vision, building momentum, and making things happen. Because sometimes, the best way to find your voice is to start creating. Check it out here