Make Room For The Stuttering

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.

Yesterday I ran into someone I used to work with quite a while ago. After catching up, she mentioned that she had seen me on a television program about stuttering that I did last year. (The PBS station replays it frequently. Sometimes at midnight. Other people have mentioned that they have seen it when unable to sleep and randomly flipping channels.) She seemed reluctant to say the word stuttering -she twice referred to it as “the speech thing”. She went on to say that she never knew, that I did a good job covering it up.

I have another friend who also seems uncomfortable saying the word stuttering. When we talk and my stuttering comes up (which it rarely does), he refers to it as a communication issue.

One of my sisters also is very uncomfortable with talking about stuttering, and the once or twice we have dared to go there, she has used the phrase “how you talk”. She has shared with me that her daughter has done very well in recent speech therapy, but she pointed out that is is not related to “how you talk”.

So this makes me wonder – are people in my world uncomfortable with the word stuttering? Even though I think I am very open, and often talk about stuttering. I know growing up, it was totally taboo. The fact that I stuttered was never mentioned, it almost seemed like a bad word. Or maybe people think they are “sparing” me in some way by not calling a spade a spade. Are they trying to be polite? Respectful? Politically correct?

I used to be extremely uncomfortable with stuttering, obviously. That’s why I hid it for so long. And used so many tricks or avoided. Could it be that I am still giving off some kind of vibe? That people feel the need to use some form of euphemism? I don’t think I do, but maybe I need to check myself. And its certainly not with everyone. Maybe just certain people? Hmmmmm.

On my resume, I note the NSA – a National Speech Advocacy organization. Whats that all about? It looks like I don’t want to use the word stuttering myself on a professional document. Is that true?

I am not going to be too hard on myself. I am just reflecting on some things that maybe need to be reflected on.

Writing helps me to be wonderfully reflective, which is a good thing. When we reflect and have the courage to share, we never know who we might impact, and that’s always a good thing.

So today, I find myself reflecting on why I have such a hard time accepting compliments and enjoying that it just FEELS GOOD when someone says something nice. I have been working on it, trying to allow myself to let the good things in and experience that pleasant rush. But its not easy for me.

I seem to have a problem practicing what I preach. Not a unique problem – we all fail to walk the walk sometimes. But it is far easier for me to give rather than take, encourage others to shake things off, and remind people to tell themselves that they are good and special.

But I rarely do that for myself. My wise friend tells me that its common for caregivers to almost never do for themselves, out of habit, and maybe even guilt. But it really is important, and for those of you reading, I encourage you to pat yourself on the back once in a while. Give yourself a high-five, go ahead and do a fist-pump. If I was a doctor, I would be saying, “Physician, heal thyself”.

So, what brought on today’s reflection? This afternoon, someone asked my advice. She was having a tough day, and admitted that she often feels that she is not good enough, and wanted to know how I talked myself out of moments like that. I reminded her of all the good things she does and of the difference she makes every day. We talked about how unproductive negative self-talk is, and how we need to replace it with positive self talk. Easier said than done!

But then she simply said, “I admire you. You are so talented. You’re such a blessing.” Did I say thank you? Noooooo. I immediately said, “Oh, I’m not that talented”. Which opened the door for her to say, “yeah you are”, and instead of bantering it back again, I just smiled and nodded.

It feels funny when someone compliments me, because for so long I didn’t think I deserved it. That emotional baggage – it can wreak havoc. I talked about that recently at a stuttering workshop that I helped present. That the stuff below the iceberg is the really tough stuff.

But we can melt some of the ice by allowing the good stuff in and feel the warmth that comes with it.

Today I spoke to a group of college students majoring in education and human services. The purpose of the forum was to provide these new job seekers some tips for career planning in these turbulent economic times.

There were two panels. My group was to address unique career paths and how we might wind up doing things we never imagined we would when we first started out, and find our dream job in the process. The other panel addressed balancing personal and professional priorities, in an increasingly “do more with less world”.

I was pleased to have been asked to be part of this function. I have a human service background, yet work in education, and could share how my career path zigged and zagged a bit, but still left me with a very satisfying career. I also could share about being resilient and having transferable skills, having had the dubious distinction of being fired and managing to land on my feet. People need to hear those success stories today. I am a sucess story.

Before we got started, the college’s two career administrators gave an overview of job search basics: resume writing, interview preparation, making a good impression, all that fun stuff.

The College Career Counselor then told the audience of about 75 that during interviews, it is really important to watch how many times you say “ah” and “uhm”, because you don’t want it to look like your stuttering during interviews.

Well, I am pretty sure my face turned red, my eyes widened, and I did one of those double takes. My brain was saying,”did she really say that?” Yes she had, and I am certain it was totally innocent and she meant no harm. She had no idea that someone who stutters was in the room, let alone on the panel that would be speaking next. We had never met.

My mind toyed with the idea of saying I stutter when I introduced myself and began my rehearsed spiel. But this was one of those times where I didn’t want stuttering to be the focus. That’s not why I was there. My mind was screaming – “correct her, say something, let these impressionable young people know that people can stutter and still be very successful and be invited to speak on these panels”. But I didn’t say anything – I let it go, and chose to be gracious.

I stewed inwardly for bit. I then decided to just let it go. There are plenty of people who will continue to make stupid comments about stuttering. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to educate and raise awareness. Its okay for me to choose the moments when I want to be an advocate and teach. Its not okay to beat myself up just because I didn’t say anything. It doesn’t make me any less of a stuttering advocate – it’s just a reminder that there is lots to be done. And I don’t have to do it all myself.

I know some people who are so covert that no one knows they stutter. They don’t tell people in their world that they attend support group or are associated in any way with people who stutter. One person I know tells people she is taking a class, rather than admit that she goes to a self-help group. It is too much of a stigma for her.

That was me for a long time, and still is sometimes. That is hard for me to admit, but sometimes I am not open with my stuttering. And I find myself really kicking myself when I do that, because I feel like a hypocrite.

When I first discovered the self-help stuttering community, I felt caught between two worlds. I didn’t stutter enough sometimes, so I felt I didn’t connect with the really overt stutterers, and I stuttered too obviously sometimes to try and blow it off.

As much as I feel I have been open and honest with myself and others, there are times when I don’t disclose that I stutter. This happens most for me in the workplace. Communication is so inherent, and so taken for granted, that it is definitely noticed when you have a little blip on the radar. I think it is fear and shame that still keeps me from being honest about this part of me.

I still remember how horrifying it was to be fired from a long -term position because of stuttering. Part of me remains fearful that I could be hurt again by the large number of people who really don’t get stuttering. I know I can minimize this by being open and seizing those moments to educate and raise awareness, but sometimes the workplace is just not the right place to do that.

I remember recently at a work event – a strategic planning meeting – I said hello to an administrator. His last name begins with “L” – lets say Leland. It came out, “Good evening, Mr. Le-Leland”. He replied, “Oh, so now my name is Le-Leland”. Certainly not one of those heart-stopping moments, but he noticed and remarked about it. Enough to make me feel self-conscious and uncomfortable.

So, sometimes I feel I am leading two lives. One that is open and honest, authentic and real. And one that just can’t shake that feeling that the world at large still finds stuttering unacceptable. I know this leads back to my father’s early criticism and disapproval. I am an adult now. But those feelings still loom and are very real. When someone criticizes me, I feel like I did when I was 5 years old and my dad was screaming at me to shut up if I couldn’t speak right. I felt I had failed.

I really want my two worlds to become one, and find that balance. I am going to keep trying.

I was 10 or 11 years old that day, when I came around the corner and saw the fire truck down the street. Even from the corner, I had this sinking feeling that the fire truck was for my house. I couldn’t see which house it was in front of, but I just knew it was there for my house.

My first thought was to turn around and go back, get far, far away. I did not want to face anything bad. I was just a kid, and this was getting too much for me. My mom was an alcoholic and spent most of her time drinking and sleeping.

There were six of us kids, all a year apart, except the youngest. I had always felt I was the parent in some ways to the other kids, as mom was there but not “really there”, and dad spent a lot of time at work or somewhere else. When he was home, we wished he wasn’t.

I think my mom drank because of my dad, the way he treated her, and the way he thought of her as a non-person. When she was unable to tend him or the house, or us kids, that role fell on me, as the oldest. I did everything, and tried to keep a lid on the place. It was not easy, because nothing was ever predictable. I never felt anything was right. I sometimes felt like a non-person.

My legs did carry me down the street to my house that day, and sure enough, the firemen and trucks were there at my house. I started to cry before I even knew what had happened. My heart was pounding, and I was feeling choked, because I was also trying to stop myself from crying. I often had that choking feeling,like something was around my throat, always pushing. That is hard for me even to this day. It was like an unwritten rule in our house – we didn’t cry, we didn’t show emotion, we didn’t speak unless spoken to, and even then, it was a risk. We just did our best to hold on. Sometimes I prayed I would fall off.

My mom had fallen asleep with a lit cigarette. The cigarette dropped on to her blanket and started a fire. The bedroom was on fire, but she wasn’t hurt. No one was, physically.

I don’t know who called the firemen, but they were there, and the fire was out quickly. It didn’t spread much, and only the bedroom area was affected. Some of my sisters were standing out front, watching what was going on, with such sad looks. I don’t remember how they got there, or if we had been together, or was I supposed to be watching them that day.

Some of the neighbors were there too, looking and watching, and whispering. They had those looks on their faces. I had seen those looks before.

The firemen wouldn’t let us in the house for a while, until the smoke cleared. We were lucky. It could have been a lot worse. I remember finally seeing my mother. She was wrapped in a blanket, and looked sooty and stunned. She also had that all-too familiar, confused look, having passed out and woken too soon. She looked dazed, and afraid. It was the first time I remember seeing my mother actually look frightened.

My father came home at some point, and everything else was a blur. I do remember that he eventually had an addition built to the back of the house, and the bedroom was repaired and there was no physical evidence that this had ever happened. Except in my memory.

I think back to that day whenever I see a bright red fire truck from a distance. I am reminded of that scary walk down my block and the pounding heart of a little girl who was always choked up and afraid to cry. A little girl who grew up way too fast.

Today I talked with a teacher friend, who mentioned that working with special needs kids is such a great experience because it forces you to look outward, be aware of differences and develop empathy. She then looked at me and said, “you must have a lot of empathy for others because of your stuttering experience”.

I have heard that before – not about me – but in general. From stuff I’ve read on the Internet and heard at conferences. I think it is true. Because I have the experience of getting stuck and feeling different, I do think I have more patience and concern for others. I know what it is like to have someone roll their eyes, or look away, or laugh when my words come out stuttered, or not at all. I know what its like to have someone hang up on me over the phone, or be rude in some other way.

I remember once at a former job, some other staff and I were planning a party for students who had achieved a special achievement. We did these parties fairly regularly, as an incentive. I was responsible for organizing everything and putting in the food orders. The easiest, and by far the kids’ favorite, was pizza. One staff told me she was sick of pizza and could we have something else. I very calmly told her, “It’s not about you, it’s about the kids. They love pizza, so that’s what we will have”. I saw the “Aha moment” flash across her face, and I never heard her complain again.

It just takes some simple reminding every once in a while. Its not about us, its about the other person. That is what empathy is. Knowing what its like to be left out or ignored, not wanting someone else to experience the pain you have felt. Do people who don’t stutter ever have that “Aha moment” when they get what it is like to stutter?

You need to be a special person to work with special kids and adults. You need patience, care, concern and an appreciation of the other person. Its not so different when we’re talking about communicating with each other. The same things apply. Why don’t people get that?

Yesterday, someone said to me, “You are so passionate about stuttering and talking about it. What drives you?” That was really interesting, because it came out of the blue, as an observation from a non-stuttering friend. She said it seems like I could talk about stuttering to anyone who will listen.

This after she overheard someone mention that they had heard me speak a couple weeks ago at a stuttering workshop for speech therapists. (Which, by the way, was a very cool thing to do. There were 87 SLPs in the audience and they seemed hungry for real-life information on stuttering. There were 3 of us stutterers presenting, and you could have heard a pin drop. They were hanging on our every word.)

It’s not so bad to be driven about stuttering, is it? I guess I have reached a point where I feel I can and should try to educate people about stuttering. After so many years of being ashamed to talk about it, or even admit I stutter, now it seems that something has been unleashed inside of me. Like the vise that was around my throat is finally off and now that I am talking, nothing will stop me. Like the genie in the bottle when the cap is taken off after a thousand years of being held prisoner. I wouldn’t even want all three wishes granted by the genie, just one: to get the word out.

I always kept my stuttering a secret, and kept it only in my head. Once, I found a couple of old journals of mine and saw I made some fleeting references to stuttering, like “I didn’t stutter much today” and “wonder what they thought when I stuttered”. I kept those thoughts to myself.

Now I blog, post on stutteringchat and covert-S, and even craft speeches for Toastmasters about stuttering. So, is that passion? YES IT IS. I love to help someone understand what stuttering is and is not. I am an expert on my own stuttering and if sharing that with someone (or a lot of someones) can make a difference, then its a good thing to be passionate about.

If the non-stuttering community can better understand what its like to get stuck, even for just a few seconds, and feel like a genie in a bottle, and I can have something to do with that, then that’s what I wish for.

Today I gave a speech to a room full of job developers. These are people who have the daunting task of finding or creating jobs for persons in need of some type of supports. The typical person who works with a job developer has some type of disability – be it cognitive, emotional, learning, or physical. I followed the guy from the department of labor who gave a rather dreary overview of labor market trends (maybe dreary is a strong word, but it was – what else could it be?)

My topic was to talk about resume writing, applications and interview skills, and offer some good news that with the proper tools, jobs can be found. Not the most exciting of topics, but I was going to share how to help people make winning first impressions. No matter what the job market looks like, that is always current.

There were more people there than I had expected- about 75. And I recognized several people in the audience. A couple came up to me before hand, and said they were so excited to see me on the agenda, that they had chosen this break-out session to attend rather than another one. Oh boy, no pressure to perform, huh?

Of course, I wanted to do well. I wanted to do much better than the guy who went first, whose graphs and charts were really . . . . . . well, you know how well graphs and charts go over!

I knew my material and felt comfortable. What was I worried about? Guess? I worried about how much I might stutter, and should I say a quick little something before I launched into the wonderful world of resumes.

Well, here’s what I did. After being introduced, I said I wanted to start with two quick things. One, that I had no statistics or charts, and that the guy before me would be a hard act to follow. (There were some chuckles – good, I had broken the ice!) Then I said, I also want you to know that I stutter, and you might hear it during my talk. Don’t get alarmed. I’m OK with it, and I hope you will be too. Then I took a breath, smiled, and started talking about resumes and marketing yourself.

I was fine. No one batted an eyelash. My stuttering did not interfere at all with my message.

As a matter of fact, someone came up to me after and said “That was a perfect introduction. You told us you stutter, and you looked relaxed and at ease, and so were we. That shows self confidence and your depth of character. Good for you. Good for us.”

Good for us when we can do that and get on with the issue at hand. Good for me. I felt great!

OK, I just have to give a shout out to my friend Richard tonight. I hope he reads this, and realizes how much someone can make someones day, with seemingly little effort. No one has ever, ever said this to me, and it made me think about stuttering in a whole different way.

I recorded a video clip and had it posted it on one of the stuttering sites that I visit often. I let Richard know the clip was posted, as he had seen some of my other ones. (As a matter of fact, he once posted that he knew someone famous – Me – because he had stumbled on my video on YouTube. I definitely am not famous, but will admit that I rather liked that).

Anyway, Richard let me know that he watched my video and provided me some feedback. He commented “I appreciate the points you make in relation to your negative self-image and your fear of criticism but the irony is that you actually have an exceptionally nice speaking voice (which I hope you now fully realise). Richard then went on to say, “Your stutter is really easy to listen to and constitutes, what I would term, ‘an attractive stutter’.”

Wow – an attractive stutter!! I said it to myself a couple of times, in disbelief. What an incredible boost to my ego, to my self-image, to the overall blah day I had today. No one has ever said that to me, and I can’t tell you how meaningful those two little words were. (Not that everything he said wasn’t meaningful, but the word attractive used with stutter in the same sentence – that floored me).

I have never heard stuttering described like that. I have always thought of my stuttering as negative, something I wished I didn’t have, something I wished would go away. I spent years trying to hide it, deny it, ignore it, or disguise it. I never thought I would come to terms with stuttering and actually find some peace with it, and make room for it.

And then Richard comes along and tells me that I have an attractive stutter.

Never under-estimate the power your words can have on another person. Richard’s words will stay with me for a long time. The next time I find myself giving in to negative self-talk or being too hard on myself, I will remember. And let it in again and again, and summon the courage to always be honest with someone else and say what I feel. You never know who you will impact or how powerful your words can be.

(I am trusting that Richard will not take offense to my quoting him – I did not divulge his last name, although I should and let everyone know how terrific he really is.)

A really interesting question caught my eye today in one of the newspapers I read on Sundays. Real ink on real paper -the kind that makes your hands black- not the on-line versions. I savor the pleasure of buying and reading two newspapers from cover to cover on Sundays. The thicker, the better.

So, here’s the question I saw today. It stopped me cold for a few minutes.

“Are you comfortable being in the flame or do you want to be the fire?” It got me thinking about am I a leader or a follower. I concluded that its good to be a little of both. You can’t have flame without fire. Leaders can’t lead without followers.

I am not saying that I am some great leader, but I have had people tell me I have leadership skills. I have also had people say that I am a role model. I think what that means is that I take risks, say what I mean and mean what I say. That is really important to me. I don’t think enough people do that today, and I would venture to say that a lack of integrity is behind many of the problems we are faced with today. A melting economy, a divide between the have and have-nots, discrimination that touches all of the “isms”, and a dismal educational system.

People just don’t honor one of the most basic core values – speak the truth and back it up.

I try to do that every day. I don’t feel I have any choice. I work with young people. Like it or not, they look to me, and most adults, to help them figure out their pathways, their flame or fire.

I have been much more aware of this lately with both my stuttering and my emotions. They are both a part of who I am. I can’t hide them. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. Most of the time, its all right. It makes me real to those around me.

Sometimes I want to be the fire that makes change and leaves an impact. Other times I am perfectly content being in the flame. I think every time I am honest with myself and others about how I feel about stuttering, that I am lighting a small fire. One that warms us with the knowledge that we are all unique beings with diverse talents and strengths.

Sometimes I recognize that I am in the flames, getting licked, and that’s ok too. Life is about getting licked by flames and telling someone else about that experience, so they won’t get burned. Passing it on, speaking the truth, meaning it, backing it up. Fire and Flame. Its all good.

Yesterday, I ran into a stuttering friend at an unlikely place -the hospital waiting room. We had not seen each other for a while, but he recognized me immediately, even though I was half asleep in a twisted position on this very uncomfortable chair. He came right up to me, startled me out of my stupor, and we began catching up.

He had been attending the same support group as I do, but we haven’t seen him lately. He’s a medical student, and has been busy interviewing for residencies for next year. He tells me he couldn’t swing both at same time, as he is traveling for the interviews. He had some difficulties with his speech as we chatted – he has major blocks and gets very frustrated, kind of rolls his eyes while waiting for the block to pass, but keeps a great big smile at same time too. Pretty cool.

We both stuttered while chatting – in a crowded waiting room. I didn’t care, and he didn’t seem to either. He seemed really annoyed with blocking for so long, but I, on the other hand, maintained eye contact for what seemed an eternity. I was sort of gazing up at him, expectantly, just patiently waiting. Not when I say gazing, that is correct. He was standing and is tall. I was still sitting in the cramped little chair, and my foot had fallen asleep. So no way was I getting up. Plus, I didn’t want to risk losing my seat.

It was really nice catching up with him. He is a young man, full of potential, going into a demanding career field, and believes in him self. He knows he is going to hit bumps along the way(he used to share that in group), but he’s going for what he wants. He has switched specialities – will now go into pediatrics. How awesome is that. His young patients will have a super role model in their doctor. Whether he chooses to be a role model or not, he will be one for sure. He will be a friendly, competent, compassionate doctor of little people who also happens to stutter.

I am glad we ran into each other. We had a real conversation, and neither of us held back with our stuttering. I found it particularly cute when I asked him, “Wh–wh wh–wh-when will you be back to group”, and he had this mischievous twinkle in his eye, as he patiently waited for me. It was like he was saying, “Ah good, your turn now”.

Its good to be ourselves when we meet by chance out and about. In a crowded waiting room, years ago, I might have not had this conversation with the future doctor. I might have pretended to be asleep, or tried to avoid certain words and wouldn’t have said what I wanted. I don’t do that anymore. That’s a good feeling.

I also want to comment on some new friends I am meeting on Twitter. One has introduced me to some of his friends as Rock Star PWS. Now, is that cool or what? I rather like it. Its like I am being referred to as being cool. Never in my wildest dreams during my covert years would I have thought that someone would hang that moniker on me and I would like it. Maybe one day they’ll let me have one of those “over 40” guest audition spots on American Idol!

Yay for young doctors who stutter. Yay for us who are not afraid to stutter publicly. Yay for rock stars. Yay for friends.

It was fun last weekend getting people together to watch a viewing of Rocket Science. My NSA Chapter co-sponsored this with our local college. That was a good thing, because the college allowed us to use their facilities to watch the movie on the big screen.

I had worked with someone from HBO Pictures to get permission to screen a public viewing of the movie. In case you are not aware, you can’t just show a copyrighted movie publicly without first getting permission – in this case in writing – from the copyright holder. Its illegal. Studios make movies for two main reasons: to have a vehicle to express their story, and to make money.
It was a good lesson for me to find out how to track down the right people, explain what we wanted to do, ask questions over the phone – stutter and all – and ultimately get the HBO folks in Los Angeles and New York to agree that this was for a good cause.

My cause: to bring people who stutter together for an afternoon of fun. No therapy, no support group, no presentation, just socializing and fun. We watched a great movie, enjoyed popcorn and soft drinks, and enjoyed each other’s company. After the movie, I had some questions prepared to spur some discussion (I know, I’m anal like that. I was afraid if I didn’t have questions written up, no one would say anything). Everybody participated. We talked about whether the actor’s stuttering was realistic enough, we discussed the manipulative female character who was only looking out for herself, and we discussed the very dysfunctional family that claimed Hal.

A young man who stutters commented: “This movie was really just about life and and trying to make it everyday. Even people who don’t stutter can relate to the movie”. He was right of course, and that was indeed the method behind my madness. Its just nice every once in a while to get people together who share a common experience to just talk about life. We can all relate to weird parents, dorky siblings and high school snobs.

For me, the movie reminded me that we really do need to put life in perspective. People are always dealing with their own skeletons in the closet. Watching a movie about real people who aren’t perfect and not taking it too seriously reminds us that life shouldn’t be rocket science. We don’t have to over-complicate everything. We should appreciate our friends and family, however imperfect they may be.