A very special person and I recently discussed feelings about stuttering and what happens when we block. I really found this fascinating, because we don’t always have the courage to ask someone how we sound when we stutter or what it actually feels like for that eternal second that seems to go on and on. He told me that he enjoys listening to my stuttering, because it seems so effortless and shows no sign of tension. I find that to be such an oxymoron, because to me the whole act of stuttering IS tension. If one can speak without effort and tension, then the speech shouldn’t be stuttered. I don’t understand this, and certainly don’t understand when someone offers me feedback that my stuttering is pleasant to listen to. Maybe it is!

My friend then asked how does he sound and look when he stutters. He shares that this is not a question he has asked often, but it is one you can ask a fellow stutterer. I honestly responded that I can indeed hear his stuttering, but it is OK, sounds fine and easy to listen to and that I do not see noticeable tension in his face. That is where he thinks it is most visible.

I wanted to know more, because I feel another person who stutters somewhat mirrors our own experience and allows the freedom to explore and ask these really probing questions. I wanted to know how it really feels when someone else gets caught in a block. Now, I can ask pretty direct questions. We have become close and respectful enough with each other to really be honest. I felt it was OK, that I wouldn’t be too disarming My friend explained his block like this, “well, its like I lose contact and go into this nowhere place.”  As he said this, I felt how he felt. I could picture the place. Getting lost, like its a black hole that you visit, for that split second or few seconds, when you are no longer present and engaged in the conversation. I appreciated his candor so much.

And the amazing thing, we both agreed, is that the listener doesn’t even know this is going on. You lose contact and feel helpless and alone and out of touch with the person you are talking to, and they don’t even know. Its all internal, for those few brief seconds,maybe even mili-seconds. THEY DON”T EVEN KNOW THIS IS HAPPENING. I thought about this for a long time. Your fellow traveler in the conversation doesn’t even know you fell off the trail. Doesn’t even know you feel lost and alone. People who don’t stutter can’t possibly get that.

I got it immediately. Felt it, like getting the wind knocked out of you and you are trying desperately to act as if nothing is wrong. I think this hit on the crux of the whole covert stuttering thing. Both my friend and I had been covert. So when your hiding your stuttering anyway,and then try to hide the fact that you fell of a cliff too mid-way through a conversation, and no one but you knows it’s going on, whoa.

I could not have had this conversation with anyone else. A fluent person would have no idea how this feels. And this really was a perfect way to explain what that LOST feeling is really all about.

What do you think? Have you ever gone to the nowhere place? Can you describe it?