Make Room For The Stuttering

Posts Tagged ‘vulnerable about stuttering

I participated in a discussion this week in one of the stuttering groups about how we react when we are offended. Specifically, someone started a thread about how thick-skinned we are when it comes to negative reactions to our stuttering.

We can’t account for another person’s ignorance, stupidity or callousness, but we have a choice as to how we act or react.

Do we get defensive, defiant or confrontational? Or do we take offensive remarks and behavior in stride and take an opportunity to educate folks about something they may know nothing about?

In that discussion, I shared that I “choose my battles” wisely. If a stranger mocks or laughs at me, and I’m likely not to see that person ever again, I probably will not say anything and just let it go.

But if someone I know makes fun of my speech, or someone I know I’ll see again, then I may seize the opportunity to educate and raise awareness. But that does require a thick skin and right motive.

In the past, when someone has been rude or hurtful, I would get very upset, tear up and often be too embarrassed to say anything. As I’ve become more comfortable with my stuttering, I have found the courage to disclose that I stutter and that their comment or behavior offended me.

I try not to disclose just so that someone feels bad and apologizes profusely, but will admit on more than one occasion I didn’t mind seeing the person squirm in embarrassment.

I remember the time when I was signing up for a new job and an administrative assistant laughed at me during conversation. At first, I didn’t say anything, thinking I must have misunderstood. But when it happened a second time while I was still speaking, I knew I had to say something.

I told her I stutter, and she immediately looked embarrassed and apologized profusely. She even said she never would have reacted like she did had she known I stuttered. We finished our business and before I left, she apologized again. I believe I educated her that day about stuttering and she may have become just a bit more tolerant and patient.

How do you react when someone offends you, whether intentional or not?

I had one of those intimate stuttering moments today. You probably know what I mean.

I got caught in a block on the “k” in the word “keep” – came out something like “ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-kiiiiii-eep.”

I say intimate in that I was looking at the person I was talking to as I blocked and we maintained eye contact through the block.

Neither of us averted our gaze. Our eyes just kind of locked, until I was able to finish the word and then move on.  I then glanced away for a second and then glanced back, which I think is normal eye contact. The other person did too.

So why is this a big deal?

Well, stuttering can be very intimate. In a Google+ hangout recently, David, a co-founder of Stutter Social, discussed his view of the “intimacy of stuttering.” It’s my view too.

Getting locked up in a block for a few seconds and sharing that with another person is very personal. I showed my “imperfection” in a vulnerable way.

And to have the other person share that with you, as in maintaining eye contact, until the block is over, is extremely personal.

I appreciated this person’s willingness to stay present with me, as she could have easily averted her eyes out of embarrassment or discomfort. Or even to give me a moment to “collect myself.”

Staying with me in the moment was also a deep sign of respect.

We shared that very personal moment that was important enough to me to write about this today.

What do you think? Can you relate?

My friend Burt from Belgium posed the question on one of the stuttering forums about how should one react when someone says our stuttering is cute. He wonders if people are just being nice by saying that.

Quite a few people weighed in with their comments and insights. Some say it’s never happened. Some say people refer to stuttering as cute when they don’t know what else to say. Some say they’ve heard stuttering said to be cute when the listener really feels sorry for the person stuttering.

One person indicated that she thinks that there are people out there that are genuinely attracted to flaws in people. I somewhat agree with that. I think when people let their true self shine – imperfections and all – they allow themselves to be vulnerable.

I am attracted to people who allow themselves to be vulnerable. To me, it signifies confidence. The person is confident enough to just be, and let the world see their true self.

I don’t ever recall anyone saying my stuttering is/was cute, but I do remember a friend commenting a few years ago that he found my stuttering was beautiful. I remember being so floored with that, as I’ve always hated my stutter. How could anyone possibly find it to be beautiful?

When he said that, it made me feel really good. I’ve never forgotten it either. Now, looking back (and it’s only been 4 or 5 years,) I think what may have been beautiful was the fact that I was being true to myself and stuttering openly and being vulnerable.

What do you think? Can stuttering be cute? Or attractive?

How many of you have the iPhone 4S with Siri? Do you use it? Do you like it?

Today I got together with a couple of friends who stutter and we hung out over lunch and caught up, with lots of laughing and stuttering.

We got talking about the dictation apps on smartphones and one friend wanted to know how it works with someone who stutters. He wanted to know if the application “heard the stuttering” and “typed” that out. I told him I didn’t know, as I don’t stutter when I’m alone!

We decided to try it at the restaurant. I don’t have Siri, but I do have “Dragon Dictation” on my smartphone. You can speak into the recorder and the application types your words, which you then can send as a text message or post to social media.

My friends suggested I try it to see how it would work. Interestingly, I felt self-conscious doing some voluntary stuttering in front of them. I needed to do that in order to stutter enough in order for our little experiment to be valid. After a few seconds of voluntary stuttering, I found myself full-on blocking.

The recorder picked up almost exactly what I said perfectly, because it apparently took the “blocks” as just pauses. We decided that wasn’t good enough, as I hadn’t had any repetitions.

Another friend tried it. At first, he spoke as he typically does, with blocking and few repetitions. The application flashed the message “could not process.” We didn’t like that.

He then did a lot of voluntary repetitions instead of blocking. The dictation application picked up the stuttering and typed out “did did did did” as part of one of his phrases. We all said “Boo” and decided we’d had enough of this little experiment. We declared that obviously smartphone dictation applications weren’t designed by people who stutter, nor to be well used by people who stutter.

What do you think? Is there a modication that can or should be made with dictation apps for people who stutter?

What does the actual moment of stuttering feel like to you?

Yesterday in a training, we were talking about metaphors and the trainer was asking us to apply metaphors for things we were feeling.

We were then to dig deep to see if we could identify the feelings behind the metaphor we chose. No one volunteered, so I took a chance.

I shared that a common metaphor for me is that I often feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff and no one has even noticed. As this was a work training on change, everyone believed I was referring to a work situation. I was not. I was referring to how I sometimes feel when I get caught in a good stuttering block.

However, since it was change we were refferring to, I let the trainer dig deeper with me and allowed her to think it was a work issue. It could have been.

She asked how it feels when I fall off the cliff. I said it feels scary and helpless. She asked if there was anything that let me know I was about to fall of the cliff. I said anxiety usually triggered it.

She asked if I knew why I was falling. I said because I wasn’t in control. Everyone was believing this was a work situation. She asked what I could do to prevent the fall. I said I could talk to someone about how I feel before the anxiety tips me over the edge.

She asked what kept me from talking about the way I felt. I said it was fear of being laughed at. She asked who was my direct report. I told her the guys name – he was right in the room. She asked what could I do to feel comfortable talking with him.

I told her I felt comfortable talking with him – that wasn’t it. She kept pushing for me to dig. I didn’t want to admit I was talking about stuttering. She asked again what was I really afraid of, still thinking I was referring to work.

I finally surprised myself and said judgement. There, I had said it. I feel like I am falling off a cliff when blocking and I fear someone is negatively judging me.

But the metaphor surprisingly fit into a pretend work scenario too. I get anxious when I feel someone at work is judging me.

The trainer felt good that I had risked and shared and felt my colleagues had learned from my share. She encouraged us to dig deep when we are feeling the impact of change in our lives. And to use metaphors to help us dig deeper.

I thought long and hard after the training and was happy that I shared this metaphor that I often feel – even though I didn’t come out and directly say I was talking about stuttering. I didn’t have to – it still related to a general fear of judgement, which is a universal fear. We all want to be accepted and not seen as different from the norm.

What about you? How do you feel in the stuttering moment? Is there a metaphor you could use to describe that feeling?

All of us have secrets – those deep dark thoughts that we keep to ourselves because we are embarrassed or ashamed or we think we’re the only one.

With the rise of the stuttering community, many of us now know that we are not the only one. Maybe our secrets are similar to others who stutter. Maybe we share the same secrets!

For this post, I would really like if you could add your secret about stuttering to the comment section, and I will add it here to the post.

When we share our secrets, we feel less isolated and vulnerable.

I’ll start! Here are a couple of my secrets.

  • For a long time, I would never answer my phone. I would always let the voice mail click in, so I could call back and initiate the conversation on my terms, and with words I thought I wouldn’t stutter on.
  • Sometimes when I block on a word, I feel like I have disappeared for a moment and no one even notices. That feels so helpless and lonely.
  • I once told a person that I went to a different college than I really did because the name of my college just wouldn’t come out that day.

Your turn! Do you have a secret about your stuttering that you’d like to share?

Lisa shared: “I always used to introduce myself as ‘Sarah’ as it was easier to say.”

Healthandheart shared: “I selectively stutter and often feel uncomfortable stuttering in front of other black people sometimes, including my family, depending on who it is.”

Tom shared: “Whenever a friend or colleague asked me to make a phone call, I would always make some excuse, but never say the real reason (that I was afraid to because of my stuttering.”)

Julia shared: “When making a phone call, I sometimes still panic and put the phone down as soon as the person answers. I ring back straight away but old feelings surrounding the phone die hard!”

Annetta shared: “I wanted to change my name from Annetta to Marie because I stutter so much on Annetta. I also had a problem with saying hello on the phone and would have a mini panic attack whenever my phone rings.”

First open mic session of the conference: a first-time adult stutterer from Mexico gets up and talks about the warmth and emotion he felt so quickly by being with so many people who stutter. His wife got up and shared that she couldn’t have realized how great support feels and burst into tears, with no shame at all.

Workshop: “Inviting Women Who Stutter to the Table” – about 25 women talked about issues unique to women. We discussed claiming our space, strengthening our voice, and how stuttering affects our femininity. Many shared that it was a very powerful workshop, that it’s important for women who stutter to share with women who stutter. Many came up to us suggesting that this be a staple at future conferences.

Presentation: “The Stuttering Monologues” – first time ever trying something new, a story telling performance that included lessons learned, inspiration, humor and dignity. The room was packed, standing room only, until someone finally decided to raise the wall and open another room. People came up to me saying how great it was. It was such a good feeling to see that this worked as well as I had hoped it would. Hope we get to do it again.

First-timer moment: met Kurt from Austria, as he was heading up to his room about 9pm on Tuesday night. I introduced myself and asked him where he was going. He said he didn’t know what to do and how to meet people. We chatted for a while and I suggested he come with me to the hotel lobby and I introduced him around. By Friday’s first-timer luncheon, he looked right at home and shared that he was so glad he had not gone upstairs that night.

First-timer moment – met Ali from Montreal, Canada in person after having only talked over Skype and briefly communicated via Facebook. It seemed like we already knew each other, as we had an instant connection.

Impact moment: seeing Anita from Sweden in person after several years. She told me that she heard from a lot of people that I have made an impact on their lives. That was a shared “cry” moment.

Impact moment: Tracy called me over to show me a picture on her cell phone that she has kept since last year. It is me wearing my tee-shirt that says “I Stutter. Deal With It.” She says she shows people that all the time. Made me feel really good!

Impact moment: had quite a few people come up to me and say “Are you Pam?” I’ve heard your name so much I really wanted to meet you in person.” So humbling to know that a lot of people know me from how “out there” I am.

Impact moment: chatting with the wife of a second-timer who stutters on the hotel veranda Saturday night. We got talking about how much she learned in such a short time. She said, “I never knew how much he really goes through with his speech, because he never told me. Being here has completely opened my eyes. I will be a more patient listener.” She had tears in her eyes.

Workshop: “Using Story Telling to Create a Culture” – participants paired up and shared a personal story with each other. It was so special to see the oldest guy in the room, a stutterer, paired up with the youngest guy in the room, a 14-year-old guy whose brother stutters. These two actively shared stories with each other, and then were seen exchanging contact information with each other.

First-timer moment: meeting Kervin (originally from St. Lucia) in the hallway of the hotel, as he stopped me and asked, “excuse me, what do we do now?” We chatted for a bit and I took him and introduced him to a bunch of people, who I later saw him with throughout the weekend. We touched base every day, and on the last day, he came up to me and told me he knows we are going to be great friends for a long time. We have already emailed each other since being home!

Impact moment: getting the chance to really spend time with Hanan (from Israel) and realize how much we have in common even though we come from different worlds.

First-timer moment: meeting Connie (from Alberta, Canada) who had emailed me a few weeks ago to tell me that she was scared to get up in front of others at an open mic session, but really wanted to do it. We had also talked on the phone before the conference, and talked about what to expect. I was so proud to see her speak with confidence at two open mic sessions.

It’s these little moments that paint the picture of how significant it is to come together in a community of support.

Have you ever thought about ordinary people who are uncomfortable with silence during a conversation? I remember an English teacher talking about how it’s important to pause while speaking and give people time to process what was said.

But she also said that many people can’t bear a long silence and will rush to fill in that silent space. I certainly can recall this. I have heard people rush to fill in that silence with anything, even if it doesn’t relate at all to what has been said.

I have been thinking about silence, specifically about that silent space we have when we have an unusually long pause or block.

I am usually panicking during that silent moment! Lots of thoughts have gone through my mind: “Oh no! Not again!” “Why now?” “She’s going to think there’s something wrong with me!” It’s amazing how many thoughts can go through one’s mind in a matter of seconds!

I have wondered what goes on in the mind of the fluent listener during that silent space? If they know us, are they aware we are stuttering? Are they giving us that space to stutter, and straining to not fill the space?

If they don’t know us, what might they be thinking?  I’m curious – but apprehensive to ask someone! 

What about you? Is that a conversation worth having?

Many of us who stutter choose to be anonymous. We don’t want anyone to know we stutter, so we do everything we can to keep our light from shining.

We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, so we figure out ways to hide, stay quiet, keep in the background. And it’s not just with covert stutterers. Even people whose stutter is very obvious often try to remain anonymous when possible.

It’s safer (we think.) If we don’t get noticed, we don’t expose ourselves to negative feedback. We shield our self from being made fun of, teased or excluded.

But we also fail to get noticed positively, because we often make that choice to be anonymous.

I find it very interesting as a blogger to see how many people comment on blogs as “anonymous” or with just their initials. Especially on stuttering blogs. People who stutter often don’t want their name linked with anything related to stuttering. It seems to be fear based.

Fear of not getting a job. Fear of a girlfriend or boyfriend dumping you. Fear of not finding a girlfriend or boyfriend because you stutter.

Being anonymous also seems to give people a freedom to express themselves more honestly or critically, because they think it can’t be traced back to them.

I heard someone say last week that we should try to look at the light, not the lampshade. But it’s hard to do that when we’re anonymous.

Thoughts?

Recently, a friend shared a favorite poem as the invocation at our Toastmasters meeting. She read “Saying It” by Phillip Booth. As I listened, the first lines really spoke to me.

Saying it. Trying to say it.

Not to answer to logic, but leaving our very lives open to how we have to hear ourselves say what we mean.

The first part of this poem could have been written about stuttering. That’s not why a fellow Toastmaster chose to share this at our meeting. She was no doubt relating to how we communicate and choose our words, as that is a focus in Toastmasters.

But I heard struggle, vulnerability, and guilt. I wasn’t just listening, I was relating and processing, on a deep, personal level.

Maybe other Toastmasters heard the same, for of course it’s not only stutterers who struggle with saying what they want to say.

As a person who stutters, those simple words – “Saying It” – struck such a chord with me. Sometimes we can’t say it, or don’t say it, or change what we were going to say.

We are afraid of what the struggle will look like as we try to say it, and how we, and our listeners, have to hear ourselves say what we mean. I know I have been afraid to just “say it.” I worry about what others will think, still.

And there are times when I really don’t like having to hear myself say what I mean.

What about you? What do you think?

Yep, I obsess sometimes. I know I do. When I speak publicly and communicate very well, I almost never focus on how well I did if I also stuttered. Like many of us, I tend to focus on the one tiny little thing that I didn’t like instead of all the good things that did happen.

Take last night, for example. I was at a Toastmasters meeting and volunteered to facilitate the Table Topics section of the meeting. This is the part of Toastmasters meetings where we practice impromptu speaking.

I thought of some questions during break and proceeded to skillfully carry out this part of the meeting. I also had a couple of moments where I had an uncomfortable block. Where nothing came out for about 20 seconds and I also squeezed one eye shut at the moment of the block.

As I drove home from the meeting, that’s what I thought about. Not how great I did at filling the role at the last-minute, but what did the two visitors think of me when they saw that weird blocking behavior? I obsessed about whether I should have said anything to acknowledge that I had stuttered.

As people who stutter, we also seem to obsess a lot over the conversational use of the word stuttering when it does not apply to what we know as a speech disorder.

For example, recently on the popular TV show “American Idol,” a 16 year-old contestant sang a song called Stuttering. She has a beautiful voice and sang the hell out of the song.

The next day, the Facebook forums were full of comments from people who stutter who felt offended by the song. Many stated they didn’t like the song because it implied the wrong reasons why people stutter.

Often in the news, especially regarding sports, we will hear or read accounts of a team or player getting off to a “stuttering start.” I have heard people who stutter comment that they are offended by these casual uses of the term stuttering, as it implies negativity about stuttering.

I understand (to a degree) why I sometimes obsess about my own speech and focus more on when I have had uncomfortable stuttering moments and blocks. I always wish it hadn’t happened at that particular time.

But I don’t always understand the reactions the stuttering community has when the non-stuttering public uses “our” word for our speech in another context.

What do  you think?

Friday night I went to a youth public speaking event. Sixth grade kids have spent the last 21 weeks working with two Toastmasters on developing confident communication skills. This night was their final night and their chance to show off their skills to friends, teachers and parents.

These kids were all 10 or 11 years old and have been willingly learning public speaking skills that will be lifetime tools for success.

This was such an exciting event. The program was facilitated by two veteran adult Toastmasters who volunteered to work with these kids over the last five months. The kids learned how to deliver planned speeches, impromptu speeches and how to offer valuable feedback.

Toastmasters offers a program called Youth Leadership that is offered to high school students. That this program was offered to sixth grade students was so impressive.

I was invited to attend as an area leader in Toastmasters.

I was so impressed with what I saw on several levels. The kids were enthusiastic, proud, and supportive of each other. They were all dressed for success. The girls wore dresses or skirts, the boys dress shirts and ties!

The school encouraged and fostered this partnership with Toastmasters. The parents were obviously thrilled that their kids had developed such confidence. I knew this because several parents shared feedback at the end, and two said they wished they had this kind of program when they were this young. One mom got choked up with emotional pride.

I was not sure if I was going to be asked to say a few words or not at the event. I was prepared to if asked. As it turns out, there wasn’t time at the end, so I did not speak.

If I had, I probably would have stuttered, naturally or voluntarily, or mentioned something about stuttering. Would that have been appropriate? Maybe, maybe not.

One of the kids said something that struck a chord with me when she was evaluating (offering feedback) another kid who had delivered a prepared speech. All the kids had a speaking role.

This young girl said something like, “In Toastmasters, we know there is always room for improvement. I noticed that you seemed to stutter on a couple of words. Try not to do that next time.”

I tensed up as I heard that. I shouldn’t have, because it was a totally innocent comment made by an 11-year old girl who was offering feedback to another 11-year old girl. They were all nervous. And giving feedback is hard to do. You want to be positive, but you also want to give the speaker something they can take away and grow from for the next time they speak.

I found myself having an inner dialogue with my self. I thought, “wow, this kid is using the word stutter to connote something negative. We don’t want that. But what can I do?”

Then I thought, “well, if I have to say anything, and I stutter and wind up acknowledging that I stutter, that little girl might feel bad, so if I do have to speak, I hope I don’t stutter.”

Then I thought,” you idiot. This would be the perfect time to educate people quickly about stuttering. What if one of those kids actually stutters and no one knows, because like I did, the kid tries to hide it in school?”

Then I thought, “Stop talking to yourself, Pam. You are making too much of this. It’s not that big of a deal. You are taking yourself way too seriously.”

I was glad that they ran out of time and I was not asked to say anything on behalf of Toastmasters.

What do you think?

Yesterday I had a really big blocking moment while talking with a co-worker one-on-one. I had facilitated a staff training earlier in the day, for six hours, with a group of about 15.

For most of that time, I was fairly fluent. Meaning, I had some stuttered moments, but they didn’t bother me and I continued to move forward with my speech. Just once or twice, I was aware of blocking, but I didn’t let it bother me, as everyone in my group knows I stutter. I don’t make any efforts to hide it at work.

Afterwards, I was in my office, winding down, catching up on emails and voice mail. A co-worker came in to chat for a few minutes and ask about a meeting we have been trying to schedule.

While talking, I attempted to say something that began with “r” and couldn’t get it out. I got stuck like, “ruh-ruh–ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh . . . . . ” for what seemed like at least 60 seconds. I maintained eye contact with her, as did she, until I broke and looked down. It was then that I managed to forcefully push the word out.

I was so conflicted by this! I felt bad, like I had given in by breaking eye contact. But it didn’t seem natural to maintain eye contact for that long. Kind of like the staring game, who is going to give in first.

I’ll give my co-worker credit – she hung in with me, stayed in the moment and didn’t try to finish my word for me. And she maintained eye contact.

Once I broke contact and finally got the word out, our conversation continued. Neither of us made any reference to what had just happened.

It was one of the longest blocks I have had and I felt very self-conscious, which makes no sense. She already knew I stutter. It must have been because I felt so vulnerable.

Has this ever happened to you?

I read a piece on laughter on another blog (Brian Scott Herr) and was really able to resonate with what he wrote. He talks about being laughed at by a customer service person when he was purchasing tickets and stutters.

All of us who stutter have had this happen, as kids and teens, and into adulthood. I know – it has happened to me more as an adult than as a kid!

Why? Because I am more open with my stuttering now as an adult. When we stutter openly, we can feel vulnerable and exposed.  We feel particularly vulnerable when we encounter someone unfamiliar with stuttering and their first reaction is to laugh at us.

It hurts when that happens! I used to get really upset and feel my eyes fill up with tears, and struggle to compose myself until I was done with whatever I was doing and then I would practically run out to my car. And cry! Tears of embarrassment and anger!

Anger at having been laughed at for something I can’t help. But also anger at my own inability to say anything. My shame would paralyze me to the point that I just froze and couldn’t say anything.

It still happens! I get laughed at or mocked occasionally. It hurts! Sometimes my eyes fill up right away, because it stings. And then I get mad at myself for letting those tears well up.

But one thing has changed. Now I am confident and comfortable most of the time (notice I say “most”) to say something when someone laughs or mocks my stuttering. I usually say something like, “just so you know, I stutter. I am OK with that, but I am not OK with someone laughing or making fun of me. It hurts my feelings.”

People are usually surprised when I say that. Some get embarrassed and apologize profusely. Some turn red and don’t say anything. Some say, “oh, you do not.” Or, “I stutter sometimes too.”

I do not address someone who laughs at me because I want them to feel bad or embarrassed. I do it for ME! That’s right, ME!

I don’t deserve to be laughed at or mocked just because I stutter or sometimes have a long pause when a word gets stuck. No one does.

Not everyone is in the place on their journey where they feel comfortable addressing someone who laughs at stuttering. It takes courage. It involves taking a risk. Not only have we stuttered, but then we are going to call more attention to it.

Laughing is good for the soul. We all need to laugh – at things that are funny, not hurtful.

And we need to laugh at ourselves once in a while too, meaning not take our self too seriously. I still have to work on that. I have to work every day at believing that I deserve to be treated and listened to with respect. That starts within.

We should always be laughing with someone, not at someone’s expense.

What are your thoughts?

Sometimes I wonder if I am the only one who experiences this, but I know this cannot be true. Everyone must, from time to time. Here’s what I mean. Sometimes, I feel emotionally paralyzed by a situation and find myself unable to say what I want to say.

And it has nothing to do with my stuttering. It’s all emotional. There are times when I know what I want to say, or should say, but something between my head, heart and gut freezes and nothing comes out. I find myself emotionally inarticulate.

A really good example of this happened recently, and is in fact, still ongoing.

My father is seriously ill and hospitalized. Last week, he had several large brain tumors removed. I chose not to go and see him, before or after the surgery, despite the risk that he might not survive.

This was not an easy decision for me, as I felt pressured by two of my siblings to join them and “sit vigil” during the surgery. I did not want to. To me, it felt fake.

I have been virtually estranged from my father for years, and we have not talked beyond the once or twice obligatory holiday greetings over the last several years.

I suppose both of us share the blame for this estrangement. I cannot get past feeling let down by my father time after time, and feeling (but not expressing) so angry. And since he re-built a family, he has taken no real initiative to take any interest in my life as an adult.

Maybe it’s time to leave the past in the past, but for some reason, I find myself unable to. And I cannot even articulate why.

I feel two of my siblings were being judgemental and criticizing me for not sitting vigil with them. I found it hard to even let them know how I felt. Both of them asked me the question, “How are you going to feel if he dies? Aren’t you going to regret that you didn’t see him one last time before that happens?’

There are things that I wish I could say to my sisters. Like, “don’t judge me. We all have different ways of dealing with things.”

And there are things I wish I could say to my father, but I know I can’t without feeling extremely vulnerable and getting too emotionally upset. I have always felt he was ashamed of me, stemming back from when I first began stuttering.

If I had the courage, I would want to ask him if he has ever been proud of me, and loved me for who I am, and not what he wished I was.

But I can’t seem to do that. Around these most vulnerable and painful matters, I remain emotionally inarticulate.

Why?


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