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The world doesn't understand stuttering

For 10 seconds everything stops. The room goes silent. My body is filled with struggle and desperation as I try to get the sound out. Fifty pairs of eyes glued on me, staring intently and curiously, as if I’m a mutant creature they’ve never seen before. I haven’t had someone blatantly laugh at me in years. But it didn’t take long to remember the feeling. Suddenly, I’m 15 again, in that high school classroom with everyone staring at me wondering why I can’t say my own name. They look at each other as I contort my face trying to say the sound. The silence is broken by shrieks of laughter, coming from the guy behind me. Joining him is the professor, who chuckles and says, “ooook we’re just going to move on then.” Instinctively, I turned to the guy laughing and asked, “What are you laughing at?” and added, “Just so you know, I stutter, that’s what that was. It takes me a little longer to talk.” Under his breath, he muttered “Sorry” and said no more. Not that day and not ever again. There a...

A letter to 11 year old me

Dear little me, I’m watching you in the videotape you made. I don’t think you realize that you will watch this tape in 21 years, but here we are. You’ve got the wide-eyed wonder of an 11 year old but the worries of someone way beyond your years. Watching you stutter, or rather, avoid stuttering, by contorting your body to try to get the word out breaks my heart. You panic, because being out of control of your speech is scary. You continue to have that recurring dream. The one where you’re screaming for help at the top of the steps but nothing comes out. Your mouth is open, the scream is loud, but only in your head, because your voice is silent. I know you hate being 11. Not because it means starting middle school, but because 11 is the hardest number to say. Your tendency is to hide – to internalize, to prevent the world from seeing you struggle. I know you’re scared of growing up. Anticipating what life will be like in 10 years. If you will open your mouth to say something in a big gi...

An open letter to America's Got Talent: It's time to normalize stuttering instead of praising the stigma

When I first saw Amanda Mammana on America’s Got Talent, I was hooked. As a person who stutters, and blocks in a similar way as Amanda, it was surreal seeing someone on national television (and now a viral video) talking the way I do.  At the same time, I had a sickening feeling in my stomach. I felt used, abused, misunderstood, and pitied. Here’s why:   Problem #1: The title of the video The YouTube clip is titled, “Singer With Speech Impediment Moves the Judges to Tears” Stuttering is a difference, not an impediment. Yes, it’s hard to stutter, and for some it can certainly feel like an impediment, but that doesn’t give society the right to call it an impediment. This slight change of semantics actually makes a big difference. Impediment is defined as "a hinderance or obstruction in doing something." Stuttering influences talking and the avoidances associated with it might become a hinderance as the person who stutters avoids situations, changes words, and subsequently ...

I'm a speech therapist, person who stutters, and specialist in stuttering. Here's my take on Joe Biden's stuttering.

The weird looks, the uncomfortable silence. Confusion radiates from their eyes. They don’t know what’s going on, and neither did I, until I was 20 years old. I didn’t know what stuttering was. I assumed it was prolongations (aaaaaaple) or repetitions (b b ball). I had no idea that when my words were stuck in my throat and I changed a word to one that was easier to say, that was stuttering.  I was often perceived as shy, stuck-up, or dumb. ICYMI: Joe Biden’s stutter in the news Stuttering has been making headlines, as articles, tweets, and narratives about Joe Biden’s speech circulate on social media and into my inbox. Biden is interviewed by John Hendrickson, a person who stutters, in the Atlantic. Biden reports he used to stutter, but that he “hasn’t stuttered in so long” Sarah Huckabee Sanders mocks Joe Biden for stuttering. Biden tweeted in response, “I’ve worked my whole life to overcome a stutter. And it’s my great honor to mentor kids who have experienced the same. It’s c...

Time

You stole my time long ago. Thousands of words stripped from my mouth because I chose silence. Hundreds of ideas taken from my mind. Silence. Missed opportunities. Again and again and again. Silence. Feeling of dread - years, months, weeks, days, hours in advance. In silence I gain fluency, And in silence I lose myself. Just a shadow, trying to keep up, trying to hide. I silence my time, and I silence my drive. I silence my thoughts, oh curious thoughts. I silence my world, as it continues to spin madly around me. When I silence myself, I silence others. My words are free, but my time is limited. So now I must, 28 years later, take back my time. Own my time. Embrace my time. My fuel is the ticking of the clock, tick tock, tick tock.

In an Instant

August, 2000 My uncle is leaving work to go home to his wife and newborn daughter. A truck driver is making his last delivery. The truck driver decides to run a red light. In an instant, my uncle is killed. He never got to watch his daughter grow up. He never got to grow old with the love of his life. We never had a chance to say goodbye. My dad stood fatherless and brotherless. There became a forever void in our heart. January, 2010 I get a text from my mother while in Belize. “ Your grandma has been diagnosed with Parkinsons." March, 2014 I get a text from my mother while at work. “We are moving grandma here. She’s not doing well.” April, 2014 We think grandma has Lewy Body Dementia. December, 2015 I’m sitting upstairs and I hear my dad talking about my grandmother’s decline to my mom: “She is all I have left of my family. This is it.” I believe that love and loss are intricately tied. We want to hold on to the on...

The Man in the Arena

It came to me like a bullet at full speed. I felt defeated - like my identity had been taken away. I sit across the table as my boss delivers the news. A parent of one of my clients has confirmed my worst fear. “I didn’t realize Courtney stutters. Shouldn’t she overcome her stuttering before treating others?” “I asked (name of daughter) how she felt about seeing a speech therapist who stutters. She said, ‘It makes me sad. I don’t want to grow up and still stutter.’” Navigating a life with stuttering is like going out into an arena every day where people are punching you left and right. When you're young, it’s hard to take those punches, so you may take a different route to avoid them, or just stay in your room with the doors closed so you never have to face them. But as an adult, it becomes harder and harder to avoid those punches. You get them when you’re least expecting them. W hen you’re walking down a road, so serene, so tranquil, then all of a sudden one ...