I Stutter. And Some People Wear Glasses.
My stutter defines me. I stutter every second of every day. I have stuttered since childhood, and I do not know what it is like to speak without fear.
Stuttering as a child was an internal struggle. Will people make fun of me? Will my friends judge me? Am I going to embarrass myself if I answer the teacher's question? I resolved these fears by going to the bathroom before it was my turn to read; Or pretending I had a sore throat to avoid speaking in front of the class. Most child stutterers are confused about their disability. Their parents don't know how to treat it, they brush it off and assume it's a phase, and the child is dropped off at school with a humiliating speech impediment that they don't understand. Some children deal with the humiliation by avoiding situations in which they could stutter. They ask their teachers to skip them when reading out loud, or ask for alternative assignments so they don't need to present.
My experience as a child stutterer was different. Although I sometimes used sneaky tactics to dodge reading and presenting, I never used my stutter as an excuse to get out of a scary situation. Instead, I faced these stuttering nightmares head on with sweaty palms and a racing heart.
I was lucky enough to grow up with another stutterer in my family: my father. At school I would be the only one with a stutter. But when I came home stuttering wasn't 'weird' or uncommon. Stuttering was normal. It was accepted. I wasn't the only person stuttering anymore.
I cannot for the life of me tell you what my father does for a living. But I do know that my father is very successful in his field. I also know that he stutters without a care in the world. Actually, his stutter seems to be the last thing on his mind when he is telling a story or talking to his coworkers on the phone.
The happiest stutterers are the ones who don't try to hide it.
My father is the epitome of a happy stutterer. His stutter is rather obvious, but that's because he doesn't try to hide it. His stutter isn't important to the people listening because it isn't important to him. It was my dad's confidence that motivated me to struggle through difficult stuttering situations instead of trying to get out of them.
I am months away from graduating college. My life is now surrounded by interviews, job applications, and presenting a confident front. I am focused on my future, and how I present myself determines my success. My stutter can now determine my success.
I am pursing a career that requires excellent communication skills. A few months ago my class participated in mock interviews. While my peers were nervous about the interview itself, I spent hours alone in my room practicing the phrase "My name is Margaret Heffernan and I am applying for the stage management position." It didn't help.
No matter how confident I am in my work, I will never be confident in my stutter. I am scared of saying my first and last name. I am scared of saying my job title. I am scared of talking. A simple class activity requiring me to confidently state my first and last name started my short-lived downward spiral of self doubt. How was I going to succeed as a communicator if I was scared of opening my mouth?
"One does not need to speak fluently in order to communicate clearly."
It took me 20 years to realize it, but my father is the biggest inspiration my stuttering-self could ask for. It may take him a little longer to tell a story, and he may run out of breathe in the middle of the punch line. But my dad is one of the best communicators and story tellers I have ever met. I am thankful that he gave me the confidence to stutter even in the scariest of situations. In adulthood, stuttering can not be resolved by going to the bathroom.
My stutter has made me stronger and has forced me to work harder. As I transition into adulthood stuttering is becoming more difficult. It may even cost me a few jobs here and there. But if I can survive the education system as a stutterer, I can damn well pursue my career.
I stutter, "and some people wear glasses" (Anne M. Toewe).
