Make Room For The Stuttering

Little kids often like to play dress up in adult clothes, pretending to be a grown-up or someone they could imagine wanting to be. Little girls often take great delight in wearing mommy’s hats and jewelry, and trying to walk in shoes that are six sizes too big. Little boys like to wear daddy’s hats and ties, and also seem to take the same delight in trying to walk in huge shoes.

I don’t remember dressing up a lot as a little girl myself, but I do remember playing with paper dolls. I had lots of them, and they had little different paper outfits, which I experimented with on the dolls. I can remember dreaming about being a different person, and how that might be. How would she look? How would she sound? I imagined myself being someone else’s little girl.

I also remember my poor brother often took the brunt of his five sisters desire to try makeup on a real person. Once, a couple of us girls held him hostage in the bathroom and put mommy’s makeup on him. One of us held him down, while two others worked on the makeup. One held his eyelids closed, while the other applied mascara and eye shadow. When he squirmed and tried to wriggle free, we held him even tighter. Then we finished him off with blush and lipstick.

When we made him look in the mirror, he screamed and started crying. We girls thought that was hysterically funny. We dissolved into fits of giggling, and loosened our grip and he got away and ran and told on us. Mommy thought it was funny, but did wash the makeup off his face. I wish we had taken pictures of that day and moment. But it is seared in my memory.

Sometimes when I think of my stuttering, I can relate to the analogy of dressing up or dressing down. If I am really comfortable with who I am with, I am dressed down and loose. Kind of like wearing an old ratty pair of jeans, ones that are so thread-bare that they should be thrown out, but which I can’t bear to part with.

If I don’t know the group very well or feel I have to make a really good impression, or that I will be judged on my “performance” I might put on my dress up clothes. Suit, blazer, dress shoes with heels, all the things that I am not entirely comfortable with. And I might try to dress up my stuttering too. This might mean avoiding or switching a word, or talking at a much slower rate.

These are some of the covert dress-up tricks that I have used for years, and that still appear from time to time. It is so easy to slip back into old habits, sometimes almost unknowingly.

I am most comfortable in my old pair of jeans that has a big tear in the back. They no longer get stiff after washing and drying. That is my goal – to no longer get stiff, and only dress up when I really want to, not because I feel I have to. Dressing down is so much more me!

I have really been in a reflective place. I was trying to find some of the information that I saved from last year when I had my first “big stage” moment at the school where I work. I conducted the first ever induction ceremony of our high school’s chapter of the National Technical Honor Society. It included reading a bunch of stuff, calling the students names, having them do a pledge in a “recite after me” style and leading the candle lighting.

If you are a person who stutters, being on stage and asking kids to “repeat after me” can be daunting. I remember doing a very brave thing. Before we went on, I got the kids together, and asked them to be sure to “not repeat the stutter”. They were great, and it went off OK.

Fortunately, I had someone record the whole ceremony. I wanted to have a model to use for this year, and to figure out where I could make some improvements. I will have twice as many students inducted this year, but the same amount of time for the ceremony.

I still remember the stinging comments my boss made to me the next day. He had suggested that it would have been OK for me to ask someone else to do the speaking, if I knew I was going to butcher the names. In other words, ask someone else to do my job! He said this to me: “it was really courageous of you to climb to the top of the mountain, but you didn’t have to try and ride your bicycle up the side of the mountain the same night”. When I asked him what exactly he meant, that’s when he made the crack about me butchering the names.

So, I watched part of the recording today, as I am preparing for this again this year. Sure enough, I stuttered on just about every kid’s name – but it was just one repitition on the names. By all accounts, nice and easy stuttering, but absolutely noticable. But absolutely not butchering!

I have every intention of doing this again this year. I am the Honor Society Advisor, so its a no-brainer that it will be me doing this. I don’t have all of the kids names yet, but I will do the same as I did last year. I wasn’t sure how to pronounce some of the names, so I wrote them out phonetically so I would be sure to pronounce them right. Not so I wouldn’t stutter, but so I would honor the importance of getting their name right on their big night. It was important to them and their parents.

Maybe this year, I will try riding a unicycle up the moutain. Bring it on!

The value is in the journey, not the outcome. As I continue to nourish my relationship with stuttering, I am also nourishing my spirituality. I don’t want my stuttering fixed. This is a beautiful realization – I can say it, feel it, believe it and own it.

For so long, I kept the stuttering hidden. I didn’t make room for it. I had two important conversations today with two very different people, both of whom are deeply significant in my life. They both get me. I was stuttering well with both of them, and was completely okay with it.

I spoke with one J over the phone. He too stutters, and we both seemed so completely at ease and we both stuttered so comfortably with each other. I felt so at peace with myself after this conversation. I was smiling as we talked, and just appreciated the realness we had with each other. There was no pretense, no tension, no awkwardness. Neither of us remarked on the other’s stuttering – it was just relaxed, easy communication. The way it should be. We took time for each other.

The other J and I talked in person, for over an hour. He does not stutter, but we talked about stuttering quite a bit. I stuttered well and comfortably with him too. I asked him if he noticed increased stuttering, and he told me that he did, but he took it as a sign of remarkable peace and comfort with who I am. We took time for each other.

He added that in some of my really best stuttering moments, he saw the slightest hint of a smile, which he took as my way of telling him that I was totally at home in this space we have carved out with each other. It is a sacred space, that place where two people can be so intimate and connect on the deepest level.

Both of these conversations with important people today moved me to tears. This is my spiritual self acknowledging that the universe is conspiring to tell me something. The universe knows what I need and the universe needs me. We are surrounded and held by this peace. (Thank you Jean, for this thought that stays with me). My journey with stuttering is filled with beauty, love and peace. My life would not be as rich without this relationship.

I have moved to an exciting new place in my journey. I can feel it in every sense of my being, deep in my bones and in my soul. This is a moment to be cherished. I do not need to be fixed.

Dear Readers: if you have been following any of my entries, then you know that I have strong opinions about being honest and maintaining personal integrity. You can’t have an engaging relationship with the world any other way. As hard as I have tried, it just doesn’t work. It’s fake.

I took some real stuttering risks this weekend. I participated in an intensive weekend workshop for people who stutter and clutter. It was sponsored by a local college that has a Communications Sciences and Disorders department, and individual and group therapy is provided by graduate SLP students. I was not fully engaged (admittedly) with the therapy process, but I was actively involved in furthering my relationship with stuttering.

I had been asked to facilitate a group for parents of kids who stutter. This was scary for me. I really didn’t know what I could offer that they wouldn’t already know, from other programs or the professionals in the field. I decided to go with my gut and be gut honest about my childhood experience with stuttering, my story that I had never told or put in writing. It had always been too painful.

So what made me decide to take this kind of risk, that would also put me out there and make me feel quite vulnerable? It was a comment that was made last week by a fellow person who stutters, that I wrote about in an earlier post. That there is no socially redeeming value in stuttering. I took exception with that and decided to put my money where my mouth is, and tell my story to people who I believed wanted to hear it. And to affirm my belief that there is indeed value to my stuttering.

So I took my story and put it in the third person and told a “Once upon a time there was a little girl who” story and never acknowledged it was me until the end. Then I got emotional and as I looked around the room, I saw other displays of emotion and some tears, connection and understanding.

It was the right thing to do. I told my story and parents of kids who stutter appreciated it, felt it, got it, and thanked me. My stuttering experience has value, and helps me to engage fully with the world and move me continuously forward on my quest to lead an authentic life.

Its about touching lives, one person at a time.

A really great book I read recently is “When Nietzsche Wept” by Irvin Yalom. It is the fictional account of two men who become profoundly connected with each other through what became the beginnings of modern talk-therapy. At one point, the main character Nietzsche reflects about “the horror of an unobserved life”.

That is very similar to the wise saying by the great philosopher Socrates, who told us that “an unexamined life is not worth living.”

I saw this very same quote on a friend’s Facebook page (good thinking, Jill), and felt inspired to reflect on my own thoughts about this.

I remember thinking as I was reading the book that I am glad I am open to reflecting on my life, where I’ve been and where I want to go. It is important to periodically step back to observe and examine your life, and evaluate if you are happy with what you are doing. If you are not happy, change something. Generally, it is us who needs to do the changing, because the world around us usually won’t. It might mean we need to change our attitude or the way we do things or add something new to our routine.

It’s very easy to get stuck in a rut, and wish that things would change or be different for us. I certainly can relate to this. You get set in your ways and tend to think about things negatively instead of positively. Taking a step back and examining your own life can sometimes be painful but its almost always a learning experience.

I have learned that I have to be proactive and make things happen, instead of wanting and hoping for them to happen. I remember thinking how great it would be if the world understood stuttering more and wouldn’t be so judgemental. That it would be nice to be able to stutter freely and not worry about getting a negative reaction. Or actually getting a negative reaction.

Well, I have found the way. It’s simple. It starts with me. I can change the world, one person at a time. We all can. All I have to do is be comfortable and accepting of myself and project that to the world around me and the rest follows. Really, its that simple. When I am confident and relaxed and sure of myself, whoever I am interacting with follows suit.

There is no complex physics formula or philosophical theory. There is no need to wish for something to happen or change. I have that power already within, and when I share my positive accepting sense of self, it transfers to the next person. I have seen it in action.

I wouldn’t have come to this realization if I wasn’t ready to look at my life, and me, and what really matters. An observed life is indeed worth living. Take the time and make things happen. Don’t get caught waiting – you’ll waste a lot of time.

A good friend and supporter commented on yesterday’s post, about why some people are so hung up on fluency and why some may see no redeeming value in stuttering. He said that it appears that “people seem to think that stuttering has (negatively) defined them as it relates to their lives. They fail to see that they can define stuttering (as it relates to their lives)”.

Kudos to Greg for pointing this out and sharing. There is tremendous power in sharing our feelings and experiences with each other.

I really liked Greg’s perspective and gave it some serious thought. I think that’s what I have been doing lately – choosing to define my stuttering and how it exists with me in my life. For it indeed exists with me. I have a relationship with stuttering the same way I have a relationship with my partner.

I do not let stuttering define me. I don’t think stuttering is the first thing people think of when they think of me. I like to think that other words come to mind first, like: creative, driven, focused and organized. I am not sure people would even use stuttering as a way to describe me. I have heard people at school describe me to a student who is looking for me. Usually, I hear, “oh, she’s the one with the reddish hair and glasses”. I have never heard someone say, “she’s the one who stutters”.

I am more than my stuttering. My “whole” is indeed the sum of my parts, and I do have many parts. I have the sensitive, spiritual, reflective side. I have the intense, workaholic, driven side. And I have the creative, artistic, risk-taking side that likes to have fun. I have talents and gifts, and worries and fears. Pretty much like any one else. And I also happen to stutter. That is part of me, the whole person who thinks and feels and breathes just like everyone else.

I subscribe to and actively participate in an email group for covert stutterers. It’s a small but sturdy group of people who are trying to find their way in a world that is often caught in that space between fluency (whatever that is) and stuttering. The list has its regulars and many lurkers, those who read only and very rarely post, unless a particular topic resonates.

Today there was discussion from someone new on whether or not the tricks and avoidance techniques that a covert uses to appear fluent is really all that bad. And he ponders that maybe his coping strategies haven’t really been “UNsuccessful”, so should he change after 20+ years?

He further says “the kind of language used to describe what I’ve been doing is typically couched in terms of deceit, deception, and dishonesty – or at the very least inauthenticity.” So he is at a crossroads, much like I was almost three years ago. He is considering speech therapy and has reached out to other coverts. I could feel his pain across cyberspace.

He asks another question, one that I felt compelled to respond to, which I did on the covert list.

It also became fodder for today’s blog post, as I had something else on my mind from last night anyway, and the two fit like peanut butter and jelly. He wants to know – is it OK to have a middle ground? To use coping strategies and appear fluent in some situations and let the stutter out naturally in other situations? Of course, this resonated with me. I had to respond. So this is the gist of what I posted on the covert group earlier.

Each of us has to do what we believe is right for us. There is no one right way. There may well be a middle ground for you, and maybe not the same for me. I find middle-ness with me a lot: sometimes I am open, other times, I revert back to avoidance.

I was feeling hugely uncomfortable with trying to keep my stuttering secret hidden, and that’s why I ultimately decided to “come out” and deal with it. It has been rewarding, empowering, and wonderful most of the time. Other times, it has been uncomfortable, scary and embarrassing.

I do me. This has become one of my favorite expressions lately. I am responsible for my self and my life, and I have the power to live my life as I see fit. That means I take the good with the bad.

Case in point. Last night at a group meeting, someone said “there is no positive socially redeeming value about stuttering”, and several people agreed with him. I felt terribly uncomfortable hearing this, as I find it to be untrue. Actually, I was angry that he said this.

I find that people who stutter are compassionate and tolerant of those with differences, and that we have a strength and resilience that comes from dealing with a challenge that many don’t get.

This statement really bothered me – it made me feel as if fellow stutterers really do think stuttering is bad, shameful, something to be fixed, hidden, corrected. But that’s not how I feel, and ultimately that’s what is most important at the end of the day. Its what I think, and what I feel, that matters for me.

By the way, I did express my disagreement and gently suggested that there is value in all of us and all differences. It was not well received (out of the corner of my eye I saw the owner of those words roll his eyes) but I was able to respectfully say what I needed and felt.

Each of us chooses how we play the cards we are dealt. Is it easy? No way. Is it predictable? No way. Will it continue to impact my life and others? Yes, every day. And I am OK with that.

I recently had a long conversation with one of my sisters, and among other things, we talked about stuttering. Now this is a rarity, because for many years, any mention of my stuttering was done in a cloak and dagger sort of way. Mysteriously whispered about, so my feelings would be spared.

My sister Kim and I sometimes have cautious discussions about stuttering. Cautious, because even though it is an “allowed topic” now, she will still tip-toe around it, to make sure I am really comfortable bringing it up. Once she’s sure though, whoosh, we’re talking about stuttering. It seems she always wanted to, even though no one else in the family ever wanted to talk about it. On the rare occasions it was mentioned, it was hush hush and a “we feel sorry for her” kind of thing. Kim says it would have been too awkward actually talking about stuttering, when the person stuttering seemed to pull it off a lot of the time that she didn’t stutter! (Say that three times fast!)

Kim told me that once she had been very angry with my mother’s husband Paul, when we were all gathered outside of a church the day of my sister Stacey’s wedding rehearsal. We all met in front of the church. When I got there, I said some sort of greeting to everyone, and Paul teasingly mimicked the way I said it. I remember it only vaguely. In those days, I didn’t say anything and kept the hurt to myself. Well, it seems Kim remembered it like it was yesterday.

Kim had overheard Paul’s remark, as did her son, Anthony. He had said to his mom, “why would Paul make fun of her like that? That’s terrible, and mean. He shouldn’t do that – she can’t help it.” (he was referring to my stuttering – wow – understanding as a kid).Kim told me she said something like she wanted to put Paul in his place, but didn’t, because she didn’t think I would want anyone calling any more attention to my stuttering.

I never knew that, until Kim shared it with me when we were just shooting the breeze and talking about stuff, and stuttering. That opened the door for us to talk about other stuttering related things. She told me there is a girl she works with who has a really severe stutter, and that some of the stroke patients she works with have sometimes stuttered. She told me she wished she could have asked me about stuttering and how it felt, so that she had a better sense of it when she meets others who stutter.

Having this conversation with my sister brought tears to my eyes. Just talking openly about it with a family member after so much silence was important, meaningful, had an impact. It has been one more step on my own acceptance journey, having a family member acknowledge that its OK and I’m OK.

We started talking about some of the doors that have opened up for me since I opened up about my stuttering and came out of the closet. I shared with Kim that I have loved traveling to conferences and talking and meeting with other people who stutter, and that stuttering has really allowed me to see the world in a whole new light. She jokingly said, “Boy, I wish I stuttered too”. She has no idea how good that was to hear.

Last night, I was talking with my significant other about some of the stuttering stuff I have been up to lately. He rarely asks – he doesn’t really get it, nor care for that matter. What he does care about is when I am not around. He gets very resentful and wants to know when is enough, enough. He actually said it that way, “when is enough enough?’

He commented that I went to conferences last year – so aren’t I “over it” by now? I tried to explain why its so important to me. I want to keep connected with people who stutter and talk about it, and contribute in some way so that people don’t go through what I did when I was so ashamed I thought I had to keep my stuttering hidden. He looked at me with such a blank look. He really thinks I have had enough and should be able to go back to the way I was.

I tried another approach. I reminded him that my mother is an alcoholic and has been sober for 25 years. She still goes to meetings 3 or 4 times a week and attends special meetings and conferences every year. It’s the connection and fellowship with other people that is the important link, what keeps a person wanting to be so involved in self-help and support.

I still don’t think he gets it. He says its a waste of time, and that I am neglecting him. I have asked him numerous times if he wants to come to a meeting and see what I do, or meet some of my friends who stutter. About this, to his credit, he was honest. He said he has a hard enough time when one of my stuttering friends calls here. He has a hard time listening on the phone. He says we talk too slow and it takes too long on the phone. He can’t imagine hanging out with stutterers in person.

It was about this time in the conversation that I was starting to get a little stressed, as I am oft to do when we are disagreeing about things that are important to me. When stress goes up, I tend to stutter more than usual. I found myself saying, “WH–wh-whats the p-p-point of trying to communi-ca-ca-cate with you anyway? You always wa–wa-want the llllllast word”. And then he said, “N0, no, no I don’t”, and we both just burst out laughing.

He wasn’t stuttering, he was mad and trying to assert himself, and I found it so funny, I dissolved into a fit of giggles. He had no choice but to join me laughing, as it was contagious.

Enough is never enough.

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.

I have not decided on a name yet for my stuttering, but I am mulling over several. It has to be just right, because I really am having a relationship with my stuttering. Never thought that would happen. We have relationships with our partners, children, parents, so why not our stuttering? We spend an awful lot of time together.

But I want to share today about a really positive experience I had earlier in the week. I visited one of the special needs classes in my school this week, to spend some time with these students. They are not on my caseload, but they are students in the building and often get forgotten about. Sort of like, out of sight, out of mind. People walk by the classroom and just keep on going, not taking the time to stop in, wave or smile, even when these kids initiate it. I hate that when it comes to any differences, stuttering included, so I make it my business to stop by whenever I can.

We had decided to do a small group discussion on teasing and bullying, a concept these kids know well. As someone who stutters, I have shared with them that I used to be teased and made fun of when I was a kid, and still do sometimes as an adult. So I decided to read them the new book
“Stuttering Stan Takes a Stand”, by Artie Knapp. The book tells the tale of Stanley the squirrel and how his stuttering affects him and the people around him. It also touches on the universal themes of self-esteem, kindness and friendship. The story has an unlikely heroine, which tickled the kids.

I read the pages slowly and showed the pictures, leaving time for the kids to comment on the squirrels and other animal friends. I stuttered naturally and had some voluntary stuttering turn real. (Usually, that freaks me out a little!) The kids didn’t give a hoot that I was stuttering and I was very relaxed. They paid rapt attention and truly delighted in having a visitor read a good story to them. The teacher and assistant really enjoyed it too.

After finishing the story, everyone shared what they liked best about it. The resounding answers were “even bullies need friends” and “its sad when we get teased”. Out of the mouths of babes, huh? I still feel the warm feeling I had as I shared that afternoon with these special kids.

So it seems I have an insatiable appetite for all things stuttering. I can’t help it. I really enjoy hearing about other people’s experiences. Even men. I don’t say that to be sexist in any way. But it seems men relate to their stuttering in a different way than women. Okay, this woman, to be exact. Let me explain.

I attend a self-help support group every Monday night. I enjoy it. Hanging out with people who stutter is cool. I happen to be the only woman in the group right now, and sometimes I am out-numbered 15 to 1. (Some of the men have been asking me if I know where all the women are, as I have not always been the only one. They think they have done something to drive the other women away). I can handle myself just fine with all of these men, thank you very much.

I try to relate to my stuttering as if it is an entity deserving of a relationship. Now maybe this is a bit much, but its where I happen to be right now on my journey. The guys, on the other hand, (not all, but most) don’t seem to relate to even being on a journey. Some instead express frustration that they are not fluent enough or their targets or something else are not working.

I hate targets. I can’t seem to fit them into my life. I understand the usefulness of having a strategy to use when I feel really stuck, but I rarely find myself thinking about taking a full breath or initiating light contact. It seems my mind is always racing far too fast about something else to take the time to think about targets, let alone use them.

So, my inquiring mind wants to know – do women who stutter relate to their stuttering differently than men who stutter? I think so. I definitely do. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have a relationship with my stuttering. I think I’ll even give my stuttering a name. My inquiring mind will have to give it a lot of thought, however. It can’t just be any name. It has to fit me, and my stuttering!

I have the tendency to be very intense. I have always been like that. Its not uncommon for people to say to me, “lighten up”, or “don’t take things so seriously”. I used to get somewhat annoyed when people would say that, because it felt negative and that they were criticizing me.

So imagine my surprise when I realize that I am telling myself to do just that every now and then. Its not being too hard on myself or self-contempt. It’s about remembering to be kind to myself, because my “self” is the only “self” I’ve got.

I have read some great books on mindfulness and being present with my thoughts. When I am able to do that, and realize that I am being too hard on myself, I do find myself relaxing and being more comfortable in my skin.

For so long, stuttering had a powerful grip on me. I let it dictate when I would speak, how I would speak, what things I would participate in and what things I would avoid. I thought about stuttering a lot, and usually negatively. This mindset had such power.

I have learned that this power can be channeled into something positive. Now that I don’t beat myself up so much, and have allowed stuttering to be just a small part of my being, my mind is free to explore other things. More important things, like fully engaging with the world and being present with another person (and not secretly rehearsing what I am going to say). And experiencing joy from little things – talking with friends, laughing, getting a pedicure.

I stutter sometimes and its okay. It doesn’t detract from me as a person. As a matter of fact, it adds a unique facet to me that not too many other people have!

I have been thinking of the whole concept of abandonment a lot. I have experienced some in my life. I recently tried to talk about what that means for me, and my feelings connected to abandonment. I found it was easier to write it.

I have always been afraid that whenever I get close to someone and bare my soul with them they will leave, so I have been very guarded in my relationships.

I had the courage to share with J (mentor’s name) that I was afraid he was going to abandon me. I have shared with him more than I have with anyone else, even myself. And I began to worry that he would slip out of my life. He assured me he still has space for me.

I felt abandoned by my father long ago. He was never there for me in the way I needed and wanted. Our estrangement lingers. After he survived a brain tumor, I thought some reconciliation was near, but it has not happened. I thought I was a terrible person for not being able to forgive him. I don’t have to forgive. There are no rules when it comes to feelings.

I have felt abandoned by my partner. He does not know the real me, the thinking, feeling me. He wants me to be the submissive caregiver, the same role I played in my childhood home. I am fighting to free myself. When he tugs me backwards, and I fall for it, I feel abandoned.

I have also been abandoned by my mother. She was not there to protect me as a child. When she finally found sobriety, it was too late. I was gone.

And strangely, I felt abandoned to her recovery. As she freed herself from alcohol’s grip, she plunged into her sobriety and new life, and I felt she made no room for me. She poured herself into helping other alcoholics. She attends meetings, sponsors other addicts, hosts conventions, runs groups, and drives all over to bring hope to those caught up in the alcohol fueled world.

Every time I try to talk with her about anything I consider important, she changes the subject. I respect that. Recovery has changed her life. But growing up in an alcoholic home changed my life too, and we have never really talked about it. She tells her story to strangers but not to me.

I have sometimes also felt abandoned when stuttering. When someone made fun of me, or looked away, or tried finishing my sentences for me, but didn’t say what I was going to say. That made me feel that I wasn’t being appreciated or heard for who I was. Abandoned by a world in too much of a hurry to listen.

I am certain my mother carries around a lot of guilt. That she has told me. My sister has told me that my mother has always felt guilty for not doing more for me about the stuttering. That she should have stood up to my father and insisted that I get speech therapy.

I hope that by acknowledging my feelings of abandonment I can finally put some of this to rest and find my balance.

I have often found myself thinking about the things that were left unsaid. Said to me, said by me, said to others. What a waste when we don’t say what we want.

Sometimes it’s because of stuttering or sometimes because we feel intimidated. Both of these have happened to me.

There was not a lot of emotion verbally expressed in my household when I was growing up. None of us knew how to do it. We were shell-shocked by other things going on. But there was a lot of emotion there, right under the surface. It just was never said.

I bet a lot of people can relate to some of this.

Here is my list of things I wish had been said at some point, in no particular order.

I wish my dad had told me he was proud of me, just once when I was growing up. That would have meant so much.

I wish a teacher had told me that stuttering was no big deal, that we are all unique.

I wish that someone else would have told me that they stuttered too. It would have been great to meet someone else who stuttered, so I didn’t feel so alone.

I wish someone would have stood up for me when I was being teased about how I talked.

I wish I could have said how I felt about never having any friends over to our house.

I wish I could have said how I hated feeling different.

I wished I had said how angry I felt when I didn’t say what I really wanted because I was afraid I would stutter and people would laugh.

I wish I had told the clerk who mimicked me how much that really hurt.

I wish I had told my college professor that I was stuttering when I gave my final oral presentation. It would have made it so much easier and I wouldn’t have agonized over it the way I did then. I still think about that.

I wish I could have said how painful it was growing up in such a chaotic place.

I wish I could have told someone about the guilt I have been carrying around and how heavy it has felt.

I wish I could have talked about being ashamed of what went on in my family.

I wish my parents had told us that they loved us. I never remember it being said.