Dear Sugar,
I stutter.
That is the truth that I have lived nearly twenty-eight years of my life trying to avoid. And of course there is no real avoidance because my stutter permeates every single goddamn thing that I do. My stutter is, as you would say, my Obliterated Place.
There is no real help for me since there is no known cure. There is only acceptance. I have spent a large part of my 20s attempting to come to terms with this reality, only to find, over and over again that having a stutter is the one unforgivable thing. At least in my mind.
I know I did not ask for this. I know it is a hereditary affliction. I know there is just something in my brain that doesn’t work the way other people’s brains work. I know I am not the only stutterer in the world. Yet, I cannot shake off this shame that I feel. It is deeply imbedded in my psyche. The shame is as much a part of me as having brown eyes or being left-handed.
The shame and just pure, raw fear that I feel every single day has led me to abuse alcohol on a very regular basis. I find that when I am drunk, the stutter is less prominent. Incredibly so. I’ve learned that the stutter doesn’t actually go away when I am drunk, it’s just that my inhibitions do. The fear I have of simply opening my mouth to talk is gone when I drink.
I am not sure how to go about letting go of the shame. I find myself apologizing to people if I happen to stutter in front of them. If not with my words, than with my demeanor. Confidence? I am sure that must be a wonderful thing. I have never known it.
When I’m stuttering, I go to a detached place in my mind. It feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. For the most part people are kind about it. When they aren’t, the shame is a neon sign pointing to my biggest flaw. My most human part of me. I always remember the people who are not kind about it.
As a child, my family never brought it up unless it was to make fun of me. They did what they knew and I don’t blame them. But this is where the shame started. I was maybe five years old when the stutter became prominent and it has been with me ever since. I have never received any kind of therapy.
I left my home in San Francisco to move to New York because I have never wanted to live in one place my whole life. However, I feel like I have not really given myself a chance to live. Really, truly live. I feel stifled and buried alive by the shame, yet I am hesitant and even afraid to let go of it because a part of me feels that I need to be punished for being a stutterer.
And that’s the gist of it, I suppose. I hate myself because I stutter. Even though I know better and even though I know I did not ask for this, I still blame myself. I blame myself for stuttering and I blame myself for letting my fear of my stutter control me. The fear and the shame rule my life and I am ashamed of that too. I blame myself for that too.
How do I let go and how do I live better? How do I forgive myself for something that is not my fault? I feel like I already know what to do. I’m just waiting to give myself permission to do it and I feel as though time is running out. Help?
Thank you,
Ashamed and Afraid
Dear Ashamed and Afraid,
Last December I took the baby Sugars to a winter solstice ritual at a hippy retreat center in the woods. The ritual was held just after sun set in a big community room in an old lodge, where maybe sixty of us were packed in. There was drumming. There were speeches delivered in mystical tones by people bedecked in beads and feathers about the symbolic meanings of north, east, south and west. There was chanting followed by ten minutes of total silence that even—miraculously!—the baby Sugars managed to endure. And then there was a great joyous ululating celebration in which we together welcomed the darkness.
After the joyous ululating died down, the people who were bedecked in beads and feathers lit a fire in the fireplace and before it they placed several giant loaves of bread. We were all instructed to take a hunk of the bread and, from that hunk, take one bite. The rest was to be cast into the fire. The bread we consumed represented what we wanted to bring into our lives, to take in, or make manifest, they explained. The bread that went into the fire represented what each of us hoped to shed or push away.
When I reiterated this symbolic business about the bread to the baby Sugars they looked at me blankly. They couldn’t wrap their minds around the idea of bringing something that wasn’t a material thing into their lives and it was even more difficult for them to understand the notion of casting such a thing out. They did not have any real desire to be stronger or purer or better. They believed themselves to be that already. To them the word manifestmeans only bread in the mouth.
This is as it should be. They are children—so irrefutably of one piece that they’re incapable of making the psychic move it takes to see themselves from even the slightest distance. But you know what, sweet pea? You aren’t. It’s time for you to do the work you need to do to become the person you must be. That means tossing something out—the ugly and false notions you have about your stutter—and taking something in—the fact that you have the power to redirect the blow-torch of your self-hatred and turn it into love.
That you got frozen in the place of fear and shame that first gripped you when you were a child is not surprising. It’s not another thing about which you should silently condemn yourself. Your letter does not convey your weakness and failure to me, darling. It conveys your resilience and your strength. At five, you learned you had a communication disorder and no one helped you make sense of that. You received neither emotional support nor therapeutic treatment. That’s a travesty. But a greater travesty would be that you, at twenty-eight, allow yourself to go on this way.
I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to. It isn’t too late. Time is not “running out.”
Your life is here and now. And the moment has arrived at which you’re finally ready to change. I know it. The thousands of people reading these words right now know it. And you know it too. It’s the reason that you wrote to me.
It’s heart-squinchingly terrible that you’ve been so alone with your stutter for these twenty-eight years, but you have the power to end your isolation in ten seconds if you choose to. Just click on over to the National Stuttering Association, where you will find oodles of information that will help you connect with others who stutter, find therapists and specialists who treat those with your condition, and access other resources that will very likely play an important role in your ability to overcome the shame and fear you’ve gathered around you like a tomb constructed of the shame that has buried you alive.
I implore you to do everything you can to connect yourself to peers and professionals who will offer you support and guidance. Doing so won’t likely make you feel great in one day. You might not even feel great in a year. But you’re going to feel a whole fuck of a lot better, I can promise you that. There isn’t any reason for you to be alone in this, dear one. You are not alone. There are so many people out there who will nod their heads in understanding and recognition when you tell them all the things you just told me.
You have a right to know those people. You deserve to receive their kindness, camaraderie, and expertise. You don’t have to make the same choices your parents made for you. You get to have your real, giant, gorgeous life. As you so clearly articulated, your stutter is not what’s keeping you from that. Your ideas about what it means to have a stutter are. So you need to change them.
Nobody worth your attention gives a damn if you stutter. Write this down on pieces of paper and tape them all over your room. Put one in every pocket of all of your pants. Nobody worth my attention gives a damn if I stutter! They might blush when you stutter. They might awkwardly try to help you communicate. But not because they think you’ve got “one unforgivable thing.” They do that because they have a moment of surprise or discomfort, that in their desire to make you feel okay they don’t quite know what to do and some of them do the wrong thing.
You don’t need to take responsibility for that. You need to find a way to laugh it off or address it directly or let it simply be there, unconnected to you. The people and resources I directed you to will help you begin to stop internalizing this crap. And so will a lot of other people. It might help you to remember that your struggle is ultimately so much like the struggles many of us have to feel right in the world. Many of us have had to make life-changing emotional and psychological shifts about who we are so we could become the people we’re here to be. You are not outside of us, even if it feels to you like you are.
I believe someday you’ll know that in your heart. I think years from now you’ll look back at this time of your life and you’ll see that this was your growing up. One of the hardest things about doing that—I mean, really, truly, actually growing up—is that in order to do so we must come to terms with the past. And for a lot of us who didn’t get as kids what we needed to get from the people who were supposed to give it to us, we can’t really grow up until we find a way to give what we need to ourselves.
But that’s also one of the most beautiful things. Because we can. We have the power to heal what needs to be healed. We get to give ourselves that. We have the capacity to stand before the scorching flames and decide what to swallow and what to cast out. That’s where you are, Ashamed and Afraid. You have arrived at the fire. Here’s the bread. Grab a hunk.
Yours,
Sugar
79 responses
Beautiful letter, and beautiful response Sugar.
A&A, there is a wonderful-funny-brilliant storyteller/actor/stand up comedian named Daniel Kitson who has a stutter and a lisp. Sometimes you don’t notice it at all, sometimes he gets stuck on a word and you notice it very much. I love his work so much, and his stammer is a part of him, and a part of that funny, beautiful, raw work. He was just at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn, and if he ever comes back to do another show you MUST see him. (a title of one of his pieces- “Stories for the Wobbly Hearted”. Love.)
When I saw him this January his stammer became more prominent in one part of the evening and in an unscripted moment he turned to the audience and said something to the effect of “Yes, I have a stutter, and if that makes you uncomfortable, then you are an asshole. *pause* Always nice to know you can still learn things about yourself in the theatre isn’t it?” The audience laughed, he smiled, and the evening moved forward.
Don’t let a stutter prevent you from being the brilliant shiny souled person you are. In fact, I bet it’s made you a much more thoughtful, sensitive person, which most of us would rather have as a friend than someone who has never felt like an outsider before. Those people tend to be the annoying dickish ones. 🙂
You should follow up on the resources Sugar listed. I remember watching John Stossel, a renowned television reporter, and being astounded when he confessed one evening that he stutters. He filed a report showing how he has learned to work around it through specific therapy.
Other people who stuttered? Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein, James Earl Jones (!) among others. They certainly were not stymied in life. 🙂
As Sugar said, we have to reach that point of acceptance where we understand that we must give ourselves what we need. Hard. I know. But necessary.
Oh, Ashamed and Afraid, your letter just about ripped my heart out of my chest. My young daughter stutters, and so does my brother, and so do several others in my family. Because of this, I know only too well how profoundly stuttering can alter a life. Which is why, when my daughter started stuttering, I walked around for days feeling more scared and sad than I can put into words.
But in my own darkest hour, I felt that I received a message similar to what Sugar said here when she wrote, “your struggle is ultimately so much like the struggles many of us have to feel right in the world.â€
I wrote something about all this, and though I feel slightly ill about posting the link here – please believe me when I say *I have never in my life* linked to an article of my own on a public page – I would love to think you might relate or take comfort from some aspect of my own experience. Or at least feel less alone with yours.(http://www.brainchildmag.com/essays/summer2010_wald.asp)
Sugar is right: nobody worth your attention gives a damn if you stutter. And there is a stuttering community out here waiting to celebrate you and support you. Please join us.
Ashamed and Afraid, Sugar is right. I have many afflictions which I’ve either learned to live with or worked to rid myself of. It hasn’t been easy. Some of my afflictions are blatantly front and center for everyone to see. I see them every day when I look in the mirror. Yes, it took a long time to cast a gentle assessment eye and yes, there are days when the “beast†in me lashes out at the injustice, but in the end, after all the hard work and reflection, there are now more welcoming days. More welcoming people, More friends, More real life. That is, once I took the steps that now loom before you. I wrestled with my mind to allow gentleness into my life and I’m glad I did. The path is much clearer. It will be for you as well, of this I am certain
Every adult knows that stutterers are not trying to stutter. I’ve never felt put upon by a stutterer. I’ve never wanted to make fun of them, or tell them to hurry up. I enjoy hearing all kinds of speech, including a stutter. A person that makes fun of a stutterer probably also snaps their fingers at waitresses or tells their boy to stop being a sissy when he cries — ie, a jackass.
When James Earl Jones was a child, he developed a stutter and stopped speaking until he was in high school. There, his English teacher, Donald Crouch, urged him to read poetry put loud. It worked. It was the first step toward Jones’ becoming verbal again. It had something to do with the rhythm of the poetry, but it also worked because that teacher cared. Ashamed and Afraid, Sugar is your Donald Crouch!
To Elissa Wald ^^ your article was beautiful, like Sugar’s.
I was in love with a guy who stuttered for a very long time. It made me love him more. It was never an issue. Go. Be you!
“You have a right to know those people. You deserve to receive their kindness, camaraderie, and expertise. You don’t have to make the same choices your parents made for you. You get to have your real, giant, gorgeous life. As you so clearly articulated, your stutter is not what’s keeping you from that. Your ideas about what it means to have a stutter are. So you need to change them.” Such powerful words—as always, Sugar, you speak from a place of equal parts grace and truth. Dearest Ashamed and Afraid, you are NOT alone—not by a LONG SHOT. I am a person who stutters and I am also involved in the National Stuttering Association. I encourage you to connect with us—we welcome you, we embrace you, and I know that for so many of us, it was deeply transformative to meet others who stuttered and to be enveloped by such acceptance and grace. I have struggled with shame, and I have yet to meet someone who stutters who hasn’t—However, there is healing and possibility and endless potential for the realization that you are ENOUGH and WORTHY. And, here’s me affirming you in those things—from one person who stutters to another. Keep pushing, keep fighting—your courage and resilience to speak up and to have made it this far is proof that the sky is the limit for you. Here’s wishing you every bit of comfort, peace, and acceptance as you face your giants along with the rest of us each day.
“You are not outside of us, even if it feels to you like you are.”
Those words was the tear-trigger for me this time. Thank you for saying the necessary truth, with the necessary love.
Dear Ashamed and Afraid, I can imagine how much you’ve struggled with being a stutterer, as I’ve struggled through life with a hearing loss which began in childhood. There are many difficult things in life and we can let them define us, or we can learn to embrace them — easier said than done, but worth the work. Sugar is right on to steer you toward a support group, as I’ve been a member of a hearing loss support group for almost four years now and it has changed my life. It’s given me that confidence you speak of. If you don’t like the label “support group”, then think of it as a patient network, and who better to steer you toward helpful info than others who face the same difficulty and challenge — no need to reinvent the wheel, though your journey is your own. One other perspective is the knowledge that your stutter isn’t life threatening in the same way other things can be. I hope this helps you gain a little perspective: http://ahearingloss.com/2011/07/29/meet-ted-dave-kelly-and-brian-by-michele-linder/
If you ever need a bit of a lift, this is some awesome slam poetry about speech impediments. I think you might enjoy/appreciate it. I know I do. :] If the link doesn’t work, it’s called S for Lisp by George Watsky, and you can find it just by searching on YouTube or Google.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zxifi_3FLc0
Ashamed and Afraid —
Your shame comes from in you, as all our most-shamefuls do, and so you are the only one with the power to fix it. No one but you can get into your brain to see what contortions of shame you are inventing. No one but you can forgive you for being different, no one but you can decide that you have a stutter and you are good person, and those two traits have nothing to do with each other. You will have help along the way — contact the Stuttering Association, as soon as you think you’re half brave enough! — but the ultimate work will be yours, and it will be hard to engage with the shame you’ve fled for twenty-eight years.
But “hard” is not the same as “impossible”, by a long shot. It is hard to become a successful professional musician. It is impossible to turn yourself into a dog. It is hard to forgive an abusive father, as Sugar has done. It is impossible to erase your stutter from your past, but it is merely HARD to forgive yourself for having that stutter. It is hard to take the first step to finding help, as you will do when you’re ready. And it is impossible for anyone else to take that step for you.
Help is waiting for you — acceptance is waiting for you — happiness is waiting for you. When you are strong enough you will reach out and you will find us cheering your bravery.
One more bit of inspiration perhaps, can come from Lisa Barone: an expert in her field of social media, and someone who stutters – and someone who just did a TEDx Albany talk.
She wrote about her decision to give this talk (and another one):
http://voiceinterrupted.com/why-i-made-the-decision-to-speak-at-blogworld
And here’s the talk:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jTjYI_l8cg
“Many of us have had to make life-changing emotional and psychological shifts about who we are so we could become the people we’re here to be. You are not outside of us, even if it feels to you like you are.” Beautifully said, and so true!
Dear Ashamed,
I have always been so proud of being able to do public speaking. As a CPS worker I often spoke to foster/adoptive parents. Large groups of them at times. I also had to testify in court many times when children were at risk and being placed into foster care. Then, then, when I needed to be clear and concise I tried to testify in court against a pedophile and never understood the questions put to me and could not give a single coherent answer. It has never happened again but if what I felt that day in that packed courtroom is anything like what you feel every day then I want more than anything to pull you thru this computer and put my arms around you and give you peace. You must reach out for help. It is there waiting for you.
I am sure the majority of people who read and respond to Sugar are liberal so I hope you will bear with me when I mention that George Bush has a stammer that gets worse when speaking to groups and yet he made it to the White House. No one gets thru life without having to overcome something. I just heard of a conversation where a husband and wife were making fun of fat people. He told her she had better not get fat or he would leave. Was he joking? Who knows but you ask any fat person what it feels like to have comments made about them and they will tell you they have the same shame as you.
I want to hold your hands and let you take as much time as you need to finish a sentence. If it is 20 minutes so be it. If it takes days so be it. You are too necessary to the human race to let this stop you.
When I had my first child and was given a spinal I woke up knowing my brain was different. Before that I could memorize pages of poetry. I can’t anymore but I can remember all the verses to songs that I love. Look at Gabby Gifford who is learning to speak thru singing. So, if you can’t talk then sing your way thru life. I had so much rather you sing than drink.
Be aware that a lot of love has come to you thru these letters. Let them guide you to therapy.
I am in my late 40’s and have stuttered since 5 years old. My father yelled at me, screamed actually, many times to tell me to stop doing that. I was also reprimanded and made to feel shame by a kindergarten teacher when I started school. As a little girl, unaware that what I was doing was not my fault, I felt flawed and worthless and that I had somehow failed the kid test and disappointed my father. I tried so hard to not stutter so I wouldn’t get yelled at. When I did stutter, kids teased or mimicked me. The only way I could figure out to not stutter was to not talk.
And that led to a pattern of avoiding and self-loathing and desperate over-compensation for the next 35 years.
I missed out on so much of my life due to fear and shame and an overwhelming feeling of worthlessness and isolation.
I never met another person who stuttered until 6 years ago, when the perfect storm of circumstances came together to propel me to reach out and find help. I was fired from a job for stuttering openly – but the time I was in my early 40’s, I couldn’t hide it anymore.
And I didn’t really want to anymore. So I found other people who stutter and my life began to change and I began to talk and peel away the layers of shame and guilt and fear and self-judgement. It has been 6 years since I “came of the closet” and started fearlessly stuttering. I would like to say it’s all been peaches and cream since then – but that would be a lie.
I sometimes still feel shame – especially when an ignorant jerk laughs at me or mimics me. But I can release it a little easier today than I could when I was a kid or teen or young adult, living in a self imposed prison of silence. We stutter – into adulthood, there’s not too much we can do to change that fact, but we CAN change how we live with it, and how we present our self to the world. Every once in a while, I wish I didn’t stutter – God, it would be so much easier. But then I am reminded of all that I have learned about myself and how much happier I am now. I am also reminded of the incredibly amazing people I have met along my recent journey – people who stutter a little and a lot, and people with all kinds of other things that one could call “flaws” but are really gifts.
My life has been enriched by letting my true authentic voice out to be heard. Trust yourself to be open to the process of that you are a valued member of this universe, just as you are. And when you are ready, many caring people will surround you and protect you and listen and love you.
I’ve never wanted to reach out and hug one of Dear Sugar’s letter writers as much as I’d like to reach out and hug Ashamed and Afraid. Consider yourself hugged and loved, Ashamed and Afraid, from an anonymous person out here in cyberspace who wishes for you all the good things in life.
I read this letter, and I had to compose a response before I read what Sugar had to say – I usually feel entirely inadequate after reading her response, and I don’t know what more to add. I’m about to turn 30 and feel like I’m only just now really growing up and coming into my own, and this letter spoke to me so deeply. The details are new, but the heart is a common thread, one that I’m dealing with myself. How do I forgive myself my many flaws, my wasted time, all these squandered chances? One moment at a time, honey, one hard moment at a time.
Dear Ashamed and Afraid:
I am not very good at being kind to myself. Despite the ease with which I forgive others for their mistakes, their difficulties, even their cruelties, I rarely give myself the same mercy. That driver that nearly hit my bicycle when I was crossing the intersection? After the initial rush of adrenalin, I think that he was probably distracted by something, maybe even something very important, and since he didn’t hit me, it will be a good reminder to him that he must watch for all traffic, not just cars. When I had to stop at the last second as a bicycle crossed in front of my car? I must not have seen him and what a terrible person I am and what a horrible driver and I could have killed him and I should never be allowed on the road again, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. This seeming inability to be kind to myself manifests in all sorts of ways, and memories of my past mistakes and unkindness will flash through my head throughout the day, hitting me like a fist to my heart.
I’m not alone in using my failures like a weapon to punish myself. None of us are. We think of our shame and all too often we will hug it to ourselves like some horrible blanket, cold and wet and prickly. It is familiar. We must remember it lest we shame ourselves again. Remembering never keeps us from making more mistakes, so we just hold this pain to ourselves in helplessness and terror.
http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?db=comics&id=555#comic
It’s a cute, funny comic. It’s also terrible and true.
You aren’t alone in your shame, but you do have the added burden that all those emotions come out in your speaking, whereas most of us only turn bright and interesting shades of red and purple and pink. You already know that what you need is to forgive yourself. Intellectually, the answer is so easy. In practice, it’s so very hard.
Let me digress here for a moment and tell you a little more about me. I’m a procrastinator and have been for decades. One of my early academic memories is from middle school. I was hiding in the stacks in the school library, sitting on the carpet and assembling my proposed invention for science class, three days late. I lied to the teacher on Friday and said that I forgot and left it at home, so he moved my presentation to Monday. I’d come up with invention weeks ago, but it didn’t seem quite perfect, quite good enough, quite like the stroke of brilliance that I wanted, so I kept thinking and thinking and kept my not-good-enough idea as backup. And then it was the day of the presentations and I had nothing. I lied to my parents about the assignment and being done, then brought everything to school on Monday and feverishly threw it together during study hall. It was OK. I think I got a B+. I thought I was the worst student ever, and I vowed never to procrastinate like that again. That vow probably lasted less than a week.
I know and have known for years that waiting to the last minute is counterproductive, it is stressful, it sucks all creativity out of me and replaces it with anxious dread. Whipping myself with my failures isn’t enough to change my behavior. And even when I do behave “like a grownup†and start things with a reasonable amount of advance notice, my success is tinged with the regret and self-recrimination of knowing that it could have always been this good and this easy if only I weren’t such a lazy stupid slob. Even my successes are poison.
What I need, more than anything else, is to forgive myself. Not just once, but over and over again. I have to forgive myself for my failures. It is harder than I ever thought it would be, two years ago when I finally started working on my procrastination problems in earnest. There has been no magic bullet, no epiphany and I’m suddenly better. It has been a lot of slogging, a great deal of crying, and more patience than I knew I possessed. I would love to say that I am cured and everything is better, but that would be a bald-faced lie. I am better, though. In little bits and baby steps, I have slowly improved. With a great deal of help from close friends and counselors and members of my support group, I have been journeying towards being mentally healthy and forgiving myself. Sometimes I hate that I started now instead of years ago, that I have wasted all those years. But I would not be who I am without that time, and besides, there is nothing I can do, so why should I be so cruel to myself? I’m nowhere near where I want to be, but I am ever so much better than I was, and it feels wonderful.
I tell you this because I want you to know that it’s possible, really, to learn to forgive yourself after years and decades of hating yourself. I tell you this because I want you to know that it will be hard. I tell you this because I want you to know that it’s easier when you have people to support you, to love you, and to guide you.
One of my friends in college had a stutter, perhaps not a terrible one, but an obvious one. Something like one sentence in three, if not more, had a stutter or prolonged pause in it. It’s hard for me to think of exactly how bad her stutter was, though, because I don’t really remember it; I remember our conversations and how much fun I had talking with her. Once I got past my initial impatience and just slowed myself down a little, I stopped noticing. It was just this thing her voice did sometimes, sort of like how I snort when I laugh sometimes. It didn’t matter, and I didn’t think less of her for it. What mattered was her, her brilliant words, her warm hugs, all her skills and talents. She was so easy to love, and her stutter made it not a whit harder to love her.
Learning to forgive myself has been easier with a significant other who forgives me so easily. Friends have helped me heal so many of my hurts.
In your situation, I would do three things.
First, strengthen existing friendships. Try to reach out to people if you feel lonely; slowly, cautiously, if that is what’s needed, but reach out. Not through bars or clubs, but reach out to people who share the same interests, people who are passionate about the same things. Maybe tell them that you have a stutter at the opening of the conversation, just after you introduce yourself – it’s on the table, and you need do nothing else in regards to it. Remind yourself that while some people will be cruel, those are not the people that you want to have anything to do with. They’re just saving you the time of getting to know them only to be disappointed later.
Second, consider finding a support group and/or a therapist. We’ve all got stuff to work through, and help usually makes it easier. Perhaps what helped me the most was watching somebody else on the same journey as me go from nearly broken to remarkably whole. I was jealous of him at times, angry with myself that I was lagging so far behind, but he was also the hope that I needed, a beacon in the darkness.
Third, practice loving yourself. Try to be aware of the cruel inner voice that’s always screaming insults and threats.
Is what it’s saying really true? (Hint: it’s almost always a kernel of truth, but it’s wrapped in so much pain and fear and anger as to be nearly false. Don’t buy into it just because there is that kernel of truth inside.)
Why is that inner voice saying that? (In my experience, it’s almost always to protect me from something, often failure. If I think I’m worthless and don’t try to make friends with that person, I won’t have to deal with rejection.)
Loving yourself, really loving yourself is hard. That’s why you practice. Even the best musicians still keep practicing, because there is always room for improvement. Practice forgiving yourself, because it is hard, because you will always make mistakes, because to do otherwise is to draw your shame to you like a blanket and sit in misery and pain. You deserve better than that. You deserve love.
ashamed, there is a book you should read by brené brown called “i thought it was just me (but it isn’t).” she focuses on shame and what she calls “shame resilience,” meaning ways to overcome it. i believe it could help you very much.
We hug and love you, even if you can’t always – in every single moment – hug and love yourself. Know that. Feel that. There is so much energy out there if you are open to seeing it, and all of Sugar’s readers are sending some to you. I know they are. Be on the look out for it…
Healing is so. much. work. I don’t have a stutter, but I’ve spent the last year with a broken bone turned incredibly painful and potentially permanently disabling nerve condition. I am 23. I am in constant pain. I graduated from a top university and had some big ol’ dreams. Now I’m back in my childhood bedroom, passing my days dealing with doctors and insurance companies and lawyers and physical therapy, then cuddling with my kitty and the internet trying to forget it all. There are bright spots, but it has been the roughest part of my journey thus far. I digress! This isn’t about my story, but with that context in mind, perhaps this tidbit might help:
The hardest part of the healing process (for me) is remaining simultaneously patient and agressive. These seem like opposites, perhaps, but you will get to know them very well in your journey. Your journey will take effort and it will take time. Sometimes you will feel like you are doing so much and what do you have to show for it?! Work hard, yes, but go easy on yourself, too. Remember your healing path will not be linear… and I say “healing” not in terms of results or the absence of a stutter, but in a beautiful way that is connected to effort and shame and peace and madness and tiredness and hope or whatever it is you are feeling in that moment.
I will leave you with a few lines from one of my favorite poems:
I had hardly begun to read
I asked how can you ever be sure
that what you write is really
any good at all and he said you can’t
you can’t you can never be sure
you die without knowing
whether anything you wrote was any good
if you have to be sure don’t write
– W.S. Merwin
IF YOU HAVE TO BE SURE, DON’T LEAP.
(healing = thousands of mini leaps, most of which you’re capable of making)
Day by day, dearest…. day by day. We’re rooting for you!
A&A, one of my good friends has a severe stutter. He always has. Do you know what we say about his stutter when he’s not around, when he’s not in the room?
In the 20 years I have known this guy, somebody mentioned it … once. The comment: “It takes him longer to say what he has to say, but it’s always worth the wait!” Because this guy is smart, funny, kind, patient and generous with his time and talents, and absolutely any adult human being who’s worth your time is able to see (or hear) past the stutter. This guy’s soul shines through, and yours will too.
I’m sorry your family were so rotten about something you could not help and that has nothing to do with your value as a human being. You deserved better than that. I will be hoping that you get the help, make the leaps and let go of all that heavy, useless shame.
Sugar, today is my birthday and this is one of the best gifts I can ever imagine receiving. Thank you. Love love infinite love.
Dear Sugar, I’ve been following you for a long time (and have worked my way through most of the archives), and every time there’s a new post I try not to get my hopes up too much. I think oh, maybe this one won’t be very applicable to my life, or not as moving and powerful as prior columns. And then this column, as always, is the perfect next thing to read in this brain-exploding, soul-warming, growing-up phase of my life.
A&A, I’m so sorry to hear the intensity of your inner shame and the loneliness of your sorrow. In addition to finding specific support and resources related to stuttering, know that you are not alone in the big world of growing-up-at-27, and learning to love yourself: If you replace “I stutter” with “I am not heterosexual” and/or “I am no longer Christian,” I could have written an eerily similar letter. The things we internalize from our childhoods have so much power over us, but I have faith that we all have the ability to move beyond those ways of thinking. As other commenters have said, it is such a slow process (and likely not a linear one!), and a hard, uphill battle, but one that will be well worth it in the end. Best of luck to you!
“Nobody worth your attention gives a damn if you stutter.”
I love these words. There are a lot of people who will tear us down, but the ones who will accept and nurture us are worth finding and keeping. They are all around us, but sometimes it’s hard to be open to acceptance before we know we deserve it. Like everyone, I’ve had some successes and some failures, and it’s always the most difficult times of my life, when I’m not at my best and have little to offer, when the good people have surfaced and stuck with me and separated the wheat from the chaff.
I hope you can see, AaA, that there are plenty of people who *truly* don’t care how long it takes you to get through a sentence or put your thoughts into words. The point is that your thoughts and words are unlike anyone else’s and are worth waiting for. I have a friend who went 95% deaf overnight a few years ago, and whenever we hang out, I become hoarse from shouting. But you know what? I do it again and again because her perspective and friendship are worth the extra work. The same is true of you, AaA. Good people will switch gears for you without a second thought because you’re worth it.
One final note — Years ago on the advice of a therapist, I wrote my negative thoughts out on one side of the page and turned then them into their opposite on the other side of the page — So thoughts like “I’ll never find love anywhere” became “I’ll always find love everywhere.” These new words made me laugh and opened up a new way of seeing the world. Instead of “Ashamed and Afraid” — why not try on “Comfortable in my skin and ready to face the world”? Might feel strange now, but it might grow on you… Good luck, friend.
Sugar, as usual, you hit your mark with precision and grace. How you do that time and again is a sweet mystery.
And, Elissa, thank *you* so much for linking to your beautiful article (though I’m confused about why you would consider a link here any more public than the public web site hosting the article itself). I often tear up or cry reading Sugar’s columns, rarely with other writers. This time I cried even more reading your article. And laughed out loud when you told about your response to the person who imagined your daughter might become a writer! Dare I say I’m glad you are?
I hope you’ll soon gain enough compassion for your 11-year-old self that the memory of being surprised your brother wanted help will no longer feel like your worst, or at least that the sadness of recalling his pain in that moment will cease to be overlaid with shame about your ignorance–which, like most of those less-than-perfect things we humans do, is entirely forgivable, even if you remember it as being a manifestation of what you think of as a character flaw such as selfishness or lazyness. Sometimes it’s important to be selfish or lazy, and sometimes it’s best not to be, and usually it takes quite a few lessons before we start to discern which is when.
And, I know that you will provide your daughter with a solid, loving foundation from which to venture into the world and confront the demons that await her there. The whole world *is* hurting; we will all encounter a few dragons. But we don’t all get to have you for a mom, available at home every day of our childhood, just in case we need your help, your wisdom, or just your shoulder.
@DR,
I think Elissa wanted us to know she wasn’t trying to be self promoting. She just wanted to speak to the letter writer.
I too am thrilled that she posted the article about her brother and daughter. It’s beautiful and I hope the original poster reads it.
I’m a 32 year old stutterer, MC, advocate, and mentor. This story really hit home for me. I feel for you, man. I’ve stuttered since the age of 4 years old. It wasn’t till I was about 12 that I decided I would move on, accepting my stutter, and not letting it slow me down or hold me back in any way. Fast forward 20 years – I’m now a big advocate for stutterers and I’ve recently talked a lot about it on the radio in Canada. I’m a hip-hop artist and MC, and my stutter completely vanishes when I perform. It’s the left brain/right brain thing that allows me to speak fluidly when I do anything creative – singing, acting, accents etc. I recently got a lot of press in Canada for my music. Through that awareness of my stutter etc., some parents reached out to me and have asked me to mentor their stuttering kids. It’s been really good for me – and for them as well. I’ve been told they feel so much more normal, and less alone because of it. I was able to pass along some coping skills – ones which have helped me get to where I am today.
I’d love to chat with you over email or the phone sometime (even though most stutters dread the phone 😉 Would be nice to connect and chat on that level. You can find my contact info on my website, should you wish to reach out. http://www.thejoynt.ca
Best,
Peter
This post was very uplifting. Thank you, Sugar and Ashamed and Afraid.
Oh my, DR, I was absolutely floored by your very generous and thoughtful response to what I wrote. And Mary, thank you so much for your words also and for understanding that yes, if there had been any way to send the essay privately to AaA, I would have — but I know that even Sugar doesn’t usually know who the letter writers are, so I couldn’t imagine how to do that.
It’s been said before but it’s worth repeating: one of the most incredible things about Sugar’s column is the community here. I was comforted by the fact that many subsequent commenters posted other links too. I guess that’s part of the beauty that happens here: the letter writer and Sugar begin a galvanizing, expansive, compassionate conversation which allows any number of other people to bring what they can to the table.
AaA (and anyone else), please feel free to connect with me on Facebook. I feel very connected with the stuttering community and it would be my pleasure to connect you in turn with many incredible advocates, activists, and supporters.
Elissa- I’m so glad.
Now I see what you meant, and I have to say, this sounds to me like a little demon of your own. Not wanting to flood every venue you visit with random self-promotion is reasonable, but withholding a directly relevant article like yours would just be silly.
You might feel better qualifying it like “I may be biased but… here’s an article I wrote that I think you’d appreciate” but I’m so glad you didn’t have a way to send it only to AaA, because now everyone who reads this post will have the chance to read your article too. In that transaction, we all win.
At The Moth a few years ago I held my breath while Dr. Alan Rabinowitz told the hypnotic, tragic, funny, utterly redemptive story of his terrible stutter and how it led him to his career as a wildlife biologist and savior of big cats. Fantastic and inspiring. I hope Ashamed and Afraid will listen to it. http://themoth.org/stories
Scatman John! He had a terrific stutter!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cnQCk0u49w&ob=av2e
“Everybody stutters one way or the other, so check out my message to you: As a matter of fact don’t let nothing hold you back, if the Scatman can do it, so can you.” 🙂
Thanks everyone so much. I suppose I don’t have THAT much shame if I’m outing myself in this way. Thank you, Sugar for answering my letter and thank you to everyone who has reached out in this way.
I’ve had a good day.
Love,
Teresa
This – You are not outside of us, even if it feels to you like you are. – is pure magic. I profoundly hope that Ashamed find them as inspiring as I do.
Aside: I’ve occasionally wondered how a sports star, like Ripken, or Jordan, or Yzerman, someone utterly amazing at what they do, can be semi-divine in their endeavors at work and then go home and try to be normal in real life. I bet you do it much better – your roots seem deep – but the challenge seems daunting to me. This was meant to be a compliment.
Teresa,
Thank you so much for writing this letter. Like so many people, I could have more or less have written the same letter to Sugar by replacing “stutter” with something else, in my case anxiety attacks. As you made clear, it’s one thing to know we should have no shame for challenges life sends our way, but quite another not to feel it; and the added shame of this paradox is the most vicious.
The more I’ve spoken to people around me about my problem and more importantly the shame associated with it, the more my shame has lessened. For one, because many more people than I ever expected in turn opened up to me about various forms of shame they carried, but also because, indeed, nobody worth my attention gave a damn. If there’s been one positive benefit to the whole ordeal, it’s been that it’s deepened my relationships with those who matter and weeded out the rest – and that’s a pretty huge benefit, looking back.
I don’t stutter, but I sure understand what it’s like living with shame. Thank you Ashamed (and of course, Sugar) for your story. It feels like you just gave me permission to give myself more permission to grow up.
A&A,
Decades ago, I took an art class, with a girl who just seemed very shy to me. Utterly normal, but very shy. As we worked we’d talk about whatever, having a good time in the studio. We weren’t really buddies, but chatting with her was great fun.
One day at the end of the year, we happened to be seated together in a public area, and were talking together, as usual, I thought, when in my own obtuse/oblivious way, I talked over and around whatever thought she was trying to express.
She got REALLY emotional about it, and she and her friends all accused me right then and there of making fun of her stutter, on purpose to be mean, cruel and heartless. Seriously offended, in a huge big hurry.
Can you imagine my astonishment? Right until that moment, I had NO IDEA that she had any difficulties expressing herself at all.
In my own mind, even to this day, I feel I was, at worst, kinda rude for having put my own need to express my thoughts over her own, in that one moment.
I apologized, as best I could manage, but as I say, I seriously had no idea how my actions would be perceived.
The reason I’m writing, is that I think we all pretty much missed the real point.
Not once, in all those months in class, had I ever had even an inkling that this girl had any trouble expressing herself. Not once.
We were drawing, which uses a different part of the brain than other activities (speech centers are elsewhere, I’m assuming, if this anecdote is any indication). While she was focused on drawing, whatever part of her brain that usually created the stutter she dreaded was apparently not active enough to give her any difficulty at all. AT ALL. As someone who hadn’t known her before the class in any way, I had no idea, and did not label her in my own mind as any kind of stutterer, or ever even feel the need to just be patient as she thought of what she’d like to say. Truly, not once, not ever. (Well, until that last conversation, sigh.)
Pretty neat, if you ask me.
I’ve always wanted to find her again, to suggest art therapy in a focused attempt to improve whatever it is that needed to be worked on.
Just mentioning it, in case some form of art therapy might be helpful.
The therapist that did me so much good in other areas of my life (like learning how to shut up long enough for other people to express their thoughts), used a lot of different techniques like Neurolinguistic Programming, Ericksonian hypnotherapy, Myers Briggs assessments, etc., to help her clients learn how to see themselves and their problems in a new light, from a variety of perspectives.
Also, learning how not to get smothered in the present moment, fixated on the past or focused too much on the future can really help. Finding a sense of balance, in all aspects of life (even self awareness) really does make a wonderful difference.
Thanks for sharing your story, I know a lot of people will find the courage to reach out for help as a result of it.
When I was 18 months old I had 2 paralytic strokes, so all my life since then I’ve had a weak and spastic left side, including a speech impediment and a half-saggy face. I grew up in the 50’s, with a mother who was terribly embarrassed to be seen in public with me.
I can relate to the shame thing, Teresa, and my advice is: Don’t let it stop you. Find what you’re passionate about, and pursue it. Make yourself a family of good friends, let them love you, and love them back. Create a rich inner life that delights you, and express that delight in your living.
I’m 63 now, and the shame hasn’t really gone away, but it got a lot less important as I found better things to pay attention to. And that is a choice you can make right now.
Please forgive the practical nature of this comment, but there are new technologies that have been recently applied to the treatment of stuttering – such as, for example, a small device that fits in the ear and plays back what someone says a split second after they say it – for some reason when someone hears their own words this way as they speak, it bypasses the glitch that causes stuttering. I don’t know if these new therapies are effective for most stuttering people, but it would definitely be worthwhile to check out what is out there – as this is a time when there are leaps and bounds being made in the treatment of stuttering – technologies that were totally unknown even a few years prior (when psychology and behavior modification were the central treatments. So this may be actually the perfect time to start exploring what is out there. ‘The universe’s timing is perfect timimg’. Good luck.
theresa,
i had a boss for 5 years who had a profound stutter. he was not just the boss, but the owner of a small business. i’m not sure if we started out giving him our utmost respect simply because he was our boss, but because of our subordinate relationship to him, none of the teasing some people might do would have ever been appropriate. i mention this, because it was a very short time before i stopped noticing it almost entirely.
i mean, sure, i didn’t stop hearing it, but he had a typical cadence, some words that would predictably be split in two, it was something no different than an accent or a friend who uses idiomatic expressions you seldom hear elsewhere, your ear adapts to it and you hardly notice it. i remember explaining to clients for years, because they would be new to the affectation, and sometimes it’s jarring to see someone having trouble speaking, but once we spent any time with him, we knew the words were there.
i say this in the hopes that it puts your mind at ease. sure, people will react at first, but they don’t hear it anew every day. and sure, it’s something i remember about this boss, but i also remember that he didn’t let it hold him back from owning a business and commanding a sense of authority, and the biggest thing i remember was that it was ultimately no big deal.
i hope you find the help you need to get feeling better about it, and the support of people who know you better than this one unique quality.
I am a 27-year-old stutterer. I’ve recently been inspired by the story of Alan Rabinowitz, a prominent zoologist and conservationist who had a very pronounced stutter and only learned to control it at all during his last year of college. When you hear him speak you can still hear it a bit. But he managed to work with what he had and have an amazing life. My stutter has made me terribly afraid of public speaking, and has probably lost me at least one job when I stuttered very badly during an interview. But I have also received jobs from people who knew I stuttered, dated several people who all thought it was “cute” (and am now engaged), had many friends, and got a Master’s degree. I still hate my stutter and it still prevents me from always saying what’s on my mind. But I try to persevere and just spit it out when I can, no matter how long it takes. The other person can just fucking deal.
Just wanted to say that my wonderful, sexy, brilliant, thoughtful, verbose boyfriend is a stutterer. It has never made him seem “less than” in any way to me. It’s just part of the man I love so much.
Ashamed and Afraid, shame on your family for making fun of you for your stutter! They should have been supporting you and telling any loser who teased you to take a hike. Good luck with all the brave new steps you’re taking! Stuttering is never something to be ashamed of.
Reading this, I imagined reaching out to the letter-writer, forearm-to-forearm, listening intently to him or her. No-one is a stranger if you listen, really listen.
The end of the letter sounds like someone who is contemplating suicide. Just know that you are loved, even by a stranger.
I’m kind of surprised nobody here mentioned the movie The King’s Speech! Sure, the movie isn’t 100% historically accurate but the Queen’s father did indeed have a prominent stutter, and did indeed find a therapist to help him so he could give his speeches as king of England. And you know, if a man in 1930’s wartime England could overcome it, I bet a woman in 2012 definitely can.
My dad stutters, and honestly I never knew stuttering was a handicap. His stutter never stopped him from dominating conversations, giving inspiring speeches to large audiences and TV cameras, being the most charming guy in a room and always, always getting the girl.
When I was little, I noticed something was off and I asked my dad why he stumbled on his words; he said it was cause he was too smart, and his speech couldn’t keep up with his brain. I believed him, I even told my friends that my dad was super smart, hell I am doing that right now!
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that, it is all about the way we look at our ourselves. Each and everyone of us has something, but if my dad could make that something become the most charming thing about him, than you can too.
Stop being afraid and ashamed. Embrace your flaws, change what you can to improve, but accept that you are great just the way you are. Most importantly, love yourself, because you are the only person you are going to spend your entire life with and you better like you.
Also, Sugar is right, those who matter will never care, and some just like me, will think your stutter is the most badass thing in the world.
Good luck.
My husband asked me once if his stutter bothered me, and I said “What stutter?” Most of the time I honestly can’t hear it. Maybe I could once. I don’t remember. Clearly it didn’t (and doesn’t) stop me from being crazy in love with him.
Our son had a stutter when he was two. We went to speech therapy and it helped a lot. It wasn’t humiliating or scary, either. Our little boy found it fun.
It was interesting to me that my husband chose not to have speech therapy, even though he though his son should have it. I think it’s maybe not a big deal to him anymore, either.
You can take control of your stuttering. Nicholas Brendon (that’s Xander from the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer) has a stutter. My brother has a stutter, but after about a year of speech therapy, he’s got it under control.
A stutter doesn’t have to control your emotions or your life!
To Cris, and to A&A,
Thank you for sharing your struggles with us. As I read the letter from Teresa, I too related immediately. While reading the familiarity of those shameful emotions expressed by her, I immediately started thinking of why I related. A long list of self-hating adjectives popped into my head to replace “stuttering” with. My procrastination. My painful and paralyzing fear of success. My laziness (more realistically a fear of doing something incorrectly). My sister and my mother constantly telling me that I’m helpless. Cris truly put into words for me what I hate most about myself: my squandered opportunity and time. “How do I forgive myself my many flaws, my wasted time, all these squandered chances?”
Thank you for reminding me that someone else feels exactly like I do. I am 33 now, and finally living a grown up life without toxic relationships, and learning how to be myself, learning how to forgive myself, and learning to be comfortable in my own skin. What you both wrote pinpointed on the core of what I go through too. I am so grateful to be reminded that I’m not alone.
Teresa, I hope that you find your path to new successes in your life, through time and learning to trust yourself. You are amazing and it will never be too late to believe in yourself.
Best of luck to all of us. 🙂
Dear Sugar,
While this post was beautifully written, as are all your others, I find myself checking again and again for some kind of update as to your missing presence. It has been over a month, now, since your last post, with no explanations as to why so much time has passed. I must admit, I have been thinking somewhat negative thoughts about you. Now that your identity is released and your book(s) published, are you no longer full of sweet sugar love? You have been publicly acknowledged as “The Light Of My Thursday Afternoons” by another reader, and I wonder if you have left her, and others (myself), in a bit of a darkness. Please inform.
Yours truly,
Claire
Dear Sugar,
congrats on that great nyt review!!!
Where is dear sugar? What happened to her? Did you can her because the reception was not as you had wished? WTF?
Ditto to the ‘where’s the explanation’ comment.
I only just started reading Dear Sugar, any kind of update shows appreciation for those who support you the most.
Is the Dear Sugar column officially over or something? It would be helpful to hear an update…
No, the Dear Sugar column is not over.
Come back, Sugar. We miss you.
I too, miss my weekly dose of Dear Sugar. Sure, it would be nice if Sugar dropped us a line to say, “hey don’t worry and I’ll be back I’ve just got to focus on a few things.” But I would say it’s time for us to show a little patience and understanding. Sugar doesn’t owe us anything, her continuing (free!) advice columnns are a present that we shouldn’t take for granted. Don’t we all have those days (weeks, months, dare I say years) when there comes a time where we can’t give something its deserved attention? It doesn’t mean we don’t want to, or that that thing (person, community, etc.) doesn’t deserve our care and attention. It just means that we are human beings and sometimes need to focus on the burning issues in our lives. This also means that we might hurt a few feelings along the way and wish we had managed this better. My guess is, Sugar just released her amazing new book that I’m pretty sure is doing better than she even expected. Which is wonderful and also means that she has a lot of stuff on her plate. Not to mention the subject of her book, which as faithful readers we know is really a lot about Sugar’s fabric of her being. Let’s be happy and inspired by what she accomplished… and stay patient and not take anything personal. Congratulations to you, Sugar. Way to write like a motherfucker 😉
I miss Sugar too! I imagine she’s overwhelmed with promoting her new book, the book tour, etc. Hopefully she will be back soon, giving us her sage advice, and calling us “sweet pea” again!!! Stephen Elliot said the Dear Sugar column is not over, but he did not say whether or not Cheryl Strayed will be back as Sugar, or if someone else is going to take over. I think I’d rather have no Sugar at all than to have someone other than Cheryl be my Sugar. `sigh!!
SUGAR WHERE ARE YOU? Please come back. The neighbors have been out calling for you every night for months. Your sister won’t stop asking when you are coming home. We miss you. And we knew you were never going to stay, really, around this sad sap of a you-ain’t-goin-nowhere town, but we sure had deluded ourselves otherwise. We know you have a book, the baby Sugars, Mr Sugar. We heard you at TEDx up at Concordia, and we laughed at your tales of moving (worthless-for-packing husbands, optimistically-small jeans in boxes, tales of personal and truth and root reality– radical sincerity. We know you have real, big, work to do. We wish you all the best.
And we miss you. We’ll keep the porch light on. Write when you can.
Love,
Your Sweet Peas
Have you read her recent interview on the Rumpus site? She says she will be back soon and misses the column.
I have a friend and former housemate who stutters. He was also a master of suspense/horror storytelling (and yes, I do mean speech. Semi-improvised, too!) and quite the ladies’ man when he didn’t have a girlfriend. None of his non-stuttery friends cared, at all. We’d ignore it or not, but it didn’t *matter*. He was just E, our friend. When you meet people who aren’t assholes, that’s how it’ll be for you, too.
Find Out who it is that is afraid and ashamed???? Your last 2 paragraphs you wrote ‘I’, “50 times… Don’t assume you know that ‘I’. Ask yourself who that ‘I’ is? Ask yourself who you really are. The one who sleeps below your descriptions is a great being. This one does NOT stutter!!! Stay with that one and when you rediscover that one, let me know if you have a stuttering problem? Even if the stutter remains you will no longer have a problem with stuttering. And when you no longer identify with it, neither will the world!!! Cut to the chase my friend! This is your ONLY real answer because it is the only truth. Find out Now!!
Peace and end the story of stuttering now!!!
I just wanted to share that my son developed stuttering and I worked with an energy healer to clear the trauma/create healing around the stuttering. Feel free to contact me if you want more information. Thank you. Phoebe
I just read this and wanted to add to all the comments above. My girlfriend still stuttered slightly when I met her at age 37. She also had one eye that slightly wandered when she was talking or listening. We’ve been together nine years now and both her stutter and her eye have resolved themselves almost completely. In her case, I think gaining self-confidence as the result of being loved and becoming known deeply healed these issues. Once in a while I think of her stuttering or her wandering eye and I kind of miss them. But–for me at least–I feel in love with her for these quirky elements as much as for anything else. These things are what make us unique. Shame and fear paralyze and cripple us. Love can heal. But the deepest and most healing is self-love and that no one can give us–we have to reach in to the hard dark place and plant it there ourselves.
My mom was a stutterer for the first 45 years of her life. She could not hold any job that required speech of any kind, so she did work like grocery store clerk or newspaper layout. She had trouble registering for college because they did it over the phone, and they would hang up on her before she could even say Hi. It profoundly affected her life.
When her husband died, she had a mental breakdown. One of the medicines they gave her was for Tourettes, as an experiment. It turns out she doesn’t have Tourettes – but it took her stutter away completely. At 45 years old, my mother was cured. I mean CURED. If you didn’t know her before, you would never know she could not utter a single word to a stranger. They have written a medical paper about her but I don’t know the exact reference. My point is that there IS treatment out there. I know. The living proof is right in front of me. Please go get help, research, ask, try.
Sagegolf,
Telling someone who stutters to “cut to the chase” is extremely demeaning. I think your intention is fine, but that line seriously bothered me.
I stutter as well and I completely understand the original poster. People can say “Oh, well Churchill stuttered and King George” and point out The Kings Speech like it’s a savior for stutterers, but in reality each stutter is different. No one knows why it happens. I’ve found different situations make me stutter and I have no control over it. I’ve had people ignore me, tell me I talk funny, not let me speak in school, and mock me to my face. I’ve actually had a fellow stutterer say my stutter was ‘endearing’, whatever the hell that meant.It is one of the worst things to have in life. I’ve found moments where I don’t have it at all and moments where I can’t even speak. Roll with the stuttering waves, I guess. Keep going.
A & A,
I understand your pain, I’ve lived it too. I’m a stutterer. It took me until I was 40 to feel good about myself. I finally realized I don’t care what other people think. I know I’m a good person with love and talents to give. It was the most freeing realization, and I became totally contented and free of shame. Hopefully you can feel it sooner than I did. I have a great life with a nice family and friends and a fulfilling career. BTW, I haven’t found a magic pill for stuttering but it lessens over time. I wish you love and peace.
Was just wondering how afraid and ashamed is doing now….did he take sugs advice and or any of that given…everyone is so loving here…any updates wouldbe appreciated!
Dear A&A, long ago I met a guy through a dating website. Before we met I wanted to talk on the phone. He wouldn’t call and eventually told me it was because he stuttered. He said he hoped that wasn’t a problem. My reply: I don’t think so, because if I like you, it won’t matter, and if I don’t like you, it won’t matter. We were together for about 2 years and remain friends. Sugar is right “Nobody worth your attention gives a damn if you stutter.”
Hi, I’m the original poster, and am replying to Darla’s comment wondering how I am doing since this was posted.
What I have learned since I wrote to Sugar:
-Growth is an erratic process. It is nonlinear and I have to remind myself of that a lot. I have often taken two steps forward, and three giant leaps backwards. It can be extremely frustrating because I just want to heal. And then one day, something will just seem to click and I will stutter openly in front of someone, and while I will still feel pangs of shame, I no longer annihilate myself because of it. That’s when I realize that I am healing.
– Using alcohol to stifle my stutter was the absolute worst thing I could have done. I wish I never did that. The cost has been way too high, but I am working hard every day to get my health back.
– Sugar really WAS right when she said “Nobody worth your attention gives a damn if you stutter.” The only person who gave a damn all this time was me, and so I must work extremely hard to mend my relationship with myself. Again, it’s a process.
– I am not merely a person who stutters. Stuttering is a big part of my life, yes, however it no longer defines me. I’m so good at so many things that have absolutely NOTHING to do with my speech.
– Writing has been my savior. I’m not sure if I didn’t stutter that I would feel compelled to express myself with the written word.
– There are good, beautiful things that have come from having a stutter. (See above.)
– The other thing is, since I wrote this a lot of people have reached out to me to offer help and support and advice, and it puts a lump in my throat every time. I am very thankful for that.
– I used to think that I was quite weak, but this year I am learning that I’m actually pretty strong. I have never given up on myself. I’m a fighter. I never realized that before I wrote to Sugar.
Anyway, thanks, everyone. I have often come back to this link and re-read my own sad words, and Sugar’s kind ones, and all the comments and felt so thankful that strangers like you exist.
-Teresa
Ashamed,
I completely feel your pain. While I dont stutter, I have suffered through social anxiety for much of my life. This isn’t as physically noticeable as a stutter, but it might as well be. Everytime I speak, I too am taken to a place in my mind far away from everything where I feel nothing but raw SHAME. The fact that I am painstakingly aware of how awkward I am or exactly what I say and peoples facial reactions – being judged – is nothing but torture. I also feel ashamed that I LET this be so powerful, that it controls my life. I feel shame that people are so tortured with things that they cant control, while my problem is something mental – something I should be able to control. All we can do is tell ourselves that while we a painfully aware of out flaws, people aren’t so much. Like sugar says, anyone who is worth it, wouldnt give a damn. I tell myself this because it’s true. I want to surround myself with uplifting, happy, intelligent people. All we can do is be the best human beings we can be. If people see your wonderful personality and good character, the last thing they will notice is a stutter. Be the best you, regardless of anything else. Think about it – if you met someone who was shockingly kind, considerate, funny, loving, and smart, would you care at all that they had a stutter? I wouldnt, but I wouldnt anyways. I think there is so much beauty in quirks. The things that make us a little different and memorable are the things we should hold on to. I have met so many different people with quirks in the way they speak to the way they walk, mentally disabled, physically disabled, physical abnormalities.. it makes you unique, it makes you different, but it doesnt define you. Out of all these people I have known, the last thing I judge them by is something like that, I judge their character. I remember how funny they were, or how charmingly stubborn, or how this person made a joke about his problem, which made it nonexistent because of how amazing it was that he was so light and positive about it. Dont worry, you are great. The only problem is inside you- embrace your quirks, and I guarantee you everyone else will.
To the people who comment on this column –
So often I read a blog or video or articles comments, and I am basically disgusted with how awful one can be behind the shield of the internet. It brings out cowards and cold-hearted, hateful people. It is so amazing how every single comment is positive and shows a genuine interest in making a stranger feel better. You all show so much empathy and understanding and you show you want to END this strangers suffering. You are the kind of people that give me hope about humanity. So often the mass of unhappy people, who are so envious that they want to bring anyone else down with them using slurs and hurtful words, overpower the few and far between caring people, and the rare people who do care get lost in a sea of mean.
I remember reading a quote that said something about how unhappy people want to hurt others to bring them down or try to invalidate their success out of envy, while truly happy and well rounded people uplift others and do and say what they can to bring people to their level of success and happiness. You never see someone content with their self be intentionally hurtful to others, especially strangers on the web.
The truly weak spit venom, and the truly strong digest it.
Your story reminds me of the movie “Front of the class”. It’s not easy to overcome this but I am sure you can, since you are already so brave to write your story down and touch many of our hearts.
God bless.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kis7j4N37ns
Ashamed and afraid,
I too have stuttered since I was four years old. This was not a slight stutter – it was a cacophony of stops and starts and fits and breaks that frustrated and enraged me every single time I tried to speak. I looked on with envy at others who were able to form words without struggling first to shape them and mould them into an intelligible, coherent form.
In my twenties, I discovered if I banged the nearest table, I could get the word out. It would come flying out with the force of that slap. If I swore in between those stuttering words, the next would flow freely with my anger. A sentence would take the length of a paragraph. A paragraph, a story.
Our stuttering shapes us, it informs who we are and our outlook on the world. It affects our relationships, our friendships, our belief in ourselves but what it gives us… what it gave me, was a perspective on others that few people have because they talk too much and listen too little. I spoke too little and listened much. I watched.
I watched as people gave presentations, their interactions with each other, how their words could persuade or on many occasions, not. I watched through the years and I learnt. Not consciously but I learnt. I learnt the art of communicating well, even though I could not.
In my mid thirties, I went to a therapist. It didn’t help me. I learnt that I also lisped and rolled my ‘R’s like ‘W’s. Getting advice from people who have never had difficulty with speaking, no matter how well trained or well intentioned they are, didn’t work for me and I only went for a few months. I was paying for something that wasn’t working. It’s not that I didn’t want it to work, I desperately, desperately did. I would have bled for it, not quite given up my first born child but it was close – that desperation to speak as others. To have my thoughts emerge in a single, beautiful flow of words.
The art of saying ‘Good morning or good afternoon’ into the phone was one I could never master. I would stick on that ‘g’ like a newborn to her mother. People would assume I was slow or simply dim-witted. If only they knew the words racing around in my mind, looking for a way to get out, to sneak out like a thief in the night so the stuttering wouldn’t find them.
By my early forties, I had had enough and decided to fight. To stop myself from stuttering. I did.
I no longer stutter although I am still slightly terrified of phones. It was a slow journey and one that I took by myself. It took all my courage and will power. It took all my anger and frustration to conquer it but I did. People who know me now, never guess that I was a stutterer of epic proportions only a few years ago.
But I am glad I stuttered. I am happy my personality and outlook was formed by my inability to speak. I am a better person for it. I understand people better, I listen well and because I understand the power of words, I use them wisely. Occasionally, there’s still a barely discernible tremble in my voice but it fades away and sometimes I forget that I stuttered at all and the road that I took to get here.
I am proof that it can be conquered but don’t be ashamed or afraid. Your life isn’t long enough to be either.
Stuttering is a developmental phase for many, if not most, children. This takes place at around four years of age (many of the respondents who still stutter have noted this age of onset in their comments). Linguists study child language acquisition and I can truly say that there is not one of us who is not awed by this marvelous feat, which is extremely rapid, with many different developmental stages. Stuttering is one stage (along with not speaking) that scares parents the most, and they often create problems by trying to help the children say what they mean or correcting, even criticizing, them. There are many linguists who feel that intrusive parental behavior causes stuttering to persist; so damaging at this very sensitive juncture (no one is more aware than the child that he/she is having a helluva difficult time). Most important–parents need to roll with it as though it weren’t happening and let the child work through it. Even knowing this, I had a terrible time keeping my mouth shut when my daughter was going through this developmental phase and struggling so hard to get the words out. There were times I actually bit my lip so as not to try to help her out. In a few weeks she was through the phase and having a much easier time of it. I also remember that when I was a child (in the 1950’s), more than once I heard my mother advise silence when relatives were about to interfere with their children’s stuttering; so, non-interference is not a new idea. Sugar, your response, and those of the forum are so wonderful to read. Warm, and truly loving support for everyone.
A&A,
You. Are. Enough.
First, even if you can’t get rid of a stutter, that doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to get rid of the bad feelings you have about it. Others have offerred the same or better advice than I have on that score already.
I developed a pretty bad stutter in junior high. Traditional methods, including that used by James Earl Jones (singing the words) didn’t work for me. I then tried switching to different accents, and that somehow helped me learn to find the “switch” for my stuttering. Today, I stutter so infrequently it’s barely noticeable.
Part of it was the accent trick, but part of it was telling myself that it was not a personal failing. It was just a stutter.
By contrast, I live with a great friend who has a very pronounced stutter. He hasn’t even any interest in getting rid of it. It doesn’t change who he is, or how much we all love him. I only mention this to illustrate that it’s possible to get to a point where you feel good about yourself. It can be done, and it is worth it.
To the OP Teresa – I am VERY late to this discussion, however, the entire time I was reading your post and Sugars’ reply, I kept thinking about deep brain stimulation for stuttering and read how effective it is. Just wanted to throw that out into the universe as the studies and results are pretty impressive. Hope all is well. Namaste
Click here to subscribe today and leave your comment.