“Dumb Girl” is available as an audiobook — and I recorded every word.
I assumed the hardest part would be the microphones, the mouth clicks, the perfectionism of saying each sentence just right.
I was wrong.
The hardest part was what happened in my body.
Reading scenes of my childhood in present tense—in my child voice—meant I wasn’t just narrating what happened. I was back there.
In the booth, headphones on, I had to hear my dad’s rage through my own mouth. I had to once again, speak aloud what once felt like a confession to my mom about being sexually abused by my brother. Sometimes my voice shook. Sometimes I had to stop and put my hand on my chest just to keep breathing.
Five days in a row. Five hours a day.
My vocal cords ached. My back spasmed. I ended each session emotionally empty.
And yet—something shifted.
My dad didn’t sound ten feet tall anymore.
The shame in those scenes didn’t belong to me—I could hear that now.
The trauma doesn’t live in my body the way it used to.
Recording this book was exhausting. And it was healing.
Because this time, I got to be in control of the story—not the little girl living it.
“Dumb Girl” audiobook now available wherever audiobooks are sold.
