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 girl job and nothing comes out. Wondering if 25 years from now you will be able to make a doctor’s appointment for your future child. In 2002, it seems impossible to do these things while having a stutter.

You’re making this video in your room. Whispering so that no one can hear you. Behind closed doors is where the pain looms, the shame develops, and the fears grow. I know you feel alone. So alone. Like you’re a mutant form of some human.

I know you think that one day, if you close your eyes long enough, you will wake up and your speech will be normal. You dream about finding someone like you, who also struggles to get their words out.

Guess what? Not only are there millions (yes, millions!) of other people who talk like you, but some of these people will become your closest friends. You’ll join this beautiful community and learn that this pain only made you stronger. You’ll also learn that every single human on this planet has something, whether it’s visible or not. You are not alone.

You will not “overcome” stuttering. There is no such thing as overcoming something that is a core part of who you are. Your whole career, your whole world, happened because of your stutter. Your stutter will no longer hold you back. You’ll stop trying so hard to hide it. You will do all that you thought you couldn’t, and more. Sometimes things will be hard. But it will always be okay.

Those fears are still with you but your courage is bigger than them now. And not only have you changed, but the world has changed. Although we still have a long way to go, people are more accepting of differences now than they ever were. In fact, sometimes it can be cool to stutter.

I must admit, it’s weird seeing you. Even though I’m older, you’re still inside of me. Growing up is weird: you morph, you change, you grow, but the core of who you are remains the same. The fearful, spunky, silly, mature, introverted, extroverted, courageous, wise, logical, controlling, kind hearted, people pleasing little girl is still you. It’s okay to be all of these things, all at the same time. That’s what it means to be human.

Be you.

With lots of love,

Your 32 year old self