Her name will be Rainn. I can remember so many times wishing my stuttering would go away. It would not cooperate. Even when I tried to bargain with it, like in the old nursery rhyme. Remember how it went: “Rain, Rain go away – come back again another day!”

My stuttering is with me all the time, sometimes as an extra, sometimes in the starring role. Having a relationship with stuttering means being comfortable with her whenever she arrives. Sometimes I have conversations with stuttering, telling her things like: “OK, if you’re sticking around today, I will introduce you” or “I am talking about you today, so you better show up.”

So it goes in a relationship. Sometimes she is present right away, and it seems right to introduce her right away. I might say something like, “I stutter, and I am OK with it. I hope you are too”. Sometimes I have talked about stuttering at a workshop, and she doesn’t show up. Then I feel foolish, lacking credibility. After all, if you are going to disclose that you stutter, it helps if stuttering makes an appearance.

This is the stuff that covert stuttering is all about. Situational stuttering that is not always evident. Unconsciously switching words, which I also try to talk talk about, again something that I never did. I would just try to go with the flow and pass as “fluent”. (Oh, how I am getting to hate that word).

Sometimes, if I am trying to teach kids about stuttering, I might use voluntary stuttering, which means that I might stutter on a word or phrase on purpose. This involves a certain amount of risk, because my voluntary stuttering often turns into real stuttering. That used to bother me, but it doesn’t anymore. It is what it is.

It takes at least two to have a relationship. I hardly ever ask or wish for Rainn to go away anymore. She is part of me, part of what makes me real, unique and authentic. And being authentic opens the door for many more deeply satisfying relationships.