I've had a stutter for as long as I can remember. My first memory of it I was probably between 5-10 years old. I remember standing in our home's hallway next to the kitchen, my mom was cooking. I wanted to ask "what's for dinner"? But I couldn't get "what" out, so I just stood there, listening to her from behind the wall even though I wanted to speak so badly. I still remember how shut off from the world I felt in that moment, and how frustrated and desperate I felt. Apparently when I was just learning to talk / preschool age, my twin sister used to "speak for me", so maybe I've truly been going through this my whole life. I've tried to place exactly when it all started, but I just can't remember many things from my childhood, not that it was particularly bad or anything like that. Elementary through Middle school I used to read books like nobody else's business! I'd have my kindle in front of me while brushing my teeth, and I'd pack my kindle in my lunchbox through middle school because I really didn't talk to anybody until I moved away from Texas to Colorado in the 7th grade. Texas was hard, but the kids were much nicer at my new home. My teachers always said I was extremely quiet and never asked questions, but I'm not sure if that was because of my anxiety about stuttering or just the general fear you feel of any social situation when you start hitting puberty. I made more friends in Colorado, and played videogames online with a lot of them. Maybe I liked videogames so much because you don't have to talk about yourself, your username is right there for them to see, and you focus on the task you're trying to complete with them, it's straightforward and you can substitute words way easier when you don't have to be exact. Since I've gotten into college (junior year now), I've been trying to think back to when this all started or if there was a reason or if it's gotten better or worse over time, but I truly just can't remember anything at all. After my high school graduation, I knew there had to be a change. I told myself that college is going to be my new slate, and that I can be anything I wanted to other people now without the preconceived personality that I had felt trapped to and paralyzed within before that moment was gone. I knew I could break out of those friend groups that I felt I had to conform to before instead of just... doing what I had always been doing. "Me" could be anything I wanted, not just what I felt that people expected of me from the years I'd known them. I was so scared of what other people thought of me that I didn't dare try to change and become a better, more confident me; even though in reality, I didn't have to be afraid at all.
College has been a good time for me, I've met so many new people, switched majors from Computer Science to Forestry, and I have tried to be unique and do interesting things to stand out, making it a point to be less scared of being seen. Of course, this means introducing myself more often and saying my name a million times. In college during the first week of class, you don't have the teacher calling out names from the attendance roster like in high school. "Here!" is easy to say, but going around in a circle doing a quick intro and saying your name and major to the class is much tougher. Even now my heart picks up and I get stressed out as it gets closer to my turn, frequently I do mess up, and the hardest part is not knowing if now's the moment your throat will tense up and fail you. You did this an hour ago fine, but what about now? Saying my name is the hardest part, but after that my introductions seem to go smoothly most of the time. Thankfully people have been nice about it, even in small groups or one-on-one. All through middle school and beyond I was so perpetually scared of people making fun of me, of me having to make excuses that I'm simply "tired" or "just out of it that day", of being seen like an idiot who can't explain even a simple thing and has to give up halfway through an explanation because he can't remember a specific term. Smiling it off with them, again, just like how it had played out yesterday with somebody else. Still to this day my biggest fear is being seen as unintelligent, incapable, uncaring. I know she didn't mean it, but I still hear my mom in my mind jokingly saying it's "pathetic" that I couldn't "remember" the name of a girl I wanted to go see, a girl I loved. It hurt, it felt like a failure, not being able to even mention the person I cared so deeply about, out of fear, of being perceived differently. Of messing up, and that not being ok. Another excuse about being tired. Always texting for permission in the future, never again out loud; names starting with an N were simply off-limits for me, what else could I do about it, that's just the way it was. I was 17 when that happened, 4 years ago now. Everyday I pass by spontaneous jokes I come up with, just because the moment had already passed once I finally planned and figured out how to say it the right way, without stuttering. People say I'm funny, and maybe in another world I could even be a comedian; maybe if I were able to actually practice jokes on the spot and get the timing right. But I can't. I'm still scared when somebody asks where I'm from, my mind racing searching for solutions, another word I can't replace without sounding confusing and convoluted, of course all in the futile attempt to stop me from sounding like an idiot by continuously stammering on a simple one word answer.
But I've really been trying to break out of this, I try to not hold myself back as much as I used to, because I love people. My favorite thing to do is talk to people. I love hearing somebody talk about their life, about where they grew up, the things they used to do as a kid, the cool clubs they're in and hobbies they have. Everybody is so interesting, and I love so much hearing other peoples different perspectives and experiences in their lives. My favorite posts on Reddit are when the comments are full of others talking about their experiences or the silly family stories told on Christmas day together every year. I call my grandparents and aunt weekly just to say hi and ask how they're doing, even though I know I won't say every word perfectly and there's a good chance I'll stutter saying "I love you" before I hang up. All anybody else seems to manage is a text on their birthday from a calendar reminder. I know I'm the only grandchild that calls. It makes me sad because I don't want their memories to be forgotten when they're gone, and I don't know how much time I have left with them, even if they're healthy now. But mostly, I know what it's like to not have anybody you can talk to, or not knowing who will even bother to listen back when you have so much to say to the world. I'm terrified that once I graduate in a year the people I know will move away, and the friends I meet will be too busy or far away to make real connections with; and I'm still constantly worried that I'm nobody's first pick when they want to do something fun, and that if I sit next to my phone all day, it won't ring once. And maybe some of this will be true, people currently cancel our planned hangouts more than they follow through, almost always last minute once I send a confirmation text that night to them, of course; so I'm just stuck at home that night, alone, while my roommates are at a frat event I can't go to or a concert I wasn't told they had planned until they're gone. That hurts too, but I try to make the most of it, I have to. Because what else can you do? I struggle to plan even just a quick weekly lunch with friends because they're so busy. Maybe this summer will be easier. I've even been told more than once by a girl that we can't meetup and chat after class because their boyfriend's just, "not comfortable crossing that boundary". I wish it were different, but I have to work with it. Living with this stutter has taught me that much.
I'm still full of fear, but it's different than when I was younger, and much less overwhelming than it used to be. I'm so much more confident in myself as a person, even if I'm not confident that I can say my name easily without error when introducing myself at a new club. I know now that people won't bully me for messing words up, and even if they don't understand why I randomly can't say certain sentences it feels like it's met with acceptance and patience, it's not used to put me down. If they do try to use it against me, then I'm fine with that being our last conversation, and I don't let myself get too beat up over it. I'm confident enough that I'm willing to stand up for myself now. I realize now that people are just people, they find you interesting too. Conversation is a team effort and they wouldn't be there if they didn't want to be. I know I can't let this stupid stutter win, because I take too much joy in the world to simply shut myself away in fear and shame. I try and look at the bright sides of life. I obviously wish I had never experienced this stutter and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but I'm glad of the different perspective it's given me on life; where communicating with people effectively and fear-free isn't always a given. Would I appreciate the simple conversations I have everyday so much if I was just "normal"? Like everyone else? I know the stutter isn't my fault, but I have to work with it, what else can I do? I refuse to isolate myself and be alone again. I know that's not an option now. I wouldn't be able to live isolated from the world like I used to be ever again, I love people too much. I still might not raise my hand every time I know the answer in class if it will be too hard to say, but when I'm fairly confident, I'll sure try my damnedest these days. I continue to plan hangouts, even if I'm canceled on constantly, because I can't give up. I don't even consider failure now, because the alternative is no life worth living at all. I haven't even worried about getting a girlfriend after my first breakup a few months ago, because I now realize that I only need a single lucky day where I meet somebody amazing by pure chance. But, chance can only happen when I'm living my life outside of my room! I just need to spin the wheel enough times. If I can't say my name during an introduction, that's ok. Syllable by syllable or not, I still manage to say Gavin in the end. I've begun countering my fear of being perceived an idiot by others by simply starting cool hobbies. If I can show others I'm capable of learning something impressive like guitar, or fixing up an old motorcycle and riding it to class, then I'll have proven I'm capable to myself, which is what matters most. Even if I struggle to say the names of the songs I like to play and sing to. I don't stutter while I'm singing, it proves to myself that I'm not a lost cause, I just have something stupid and annoying that I have to work around. I'm not the stupid one, it is.
I've never written anything about my experiences before, at least to this extent, but I've sure as hell had an uncountable number of conversations with myself thinking about this stutter; so I figure why not share something. Not many people will ever fully understand how it feels when you're sure there's something unfixable about you, when it feels like you're shut off from the world away from everybody else, and have been robbed a million opportunities that, in theory, you're perfectly capable of pursuing. And even less will ever know the guts it takes to overcome that paralyzing fear to keep coming back everyday for more. You're not alone.
A motto I made up for myself this year is: "at least do something, no matter how small*"*. Go to that club meeting, put that dish in the dishwasher, pick that sock up off the floor, refill the soap bottle. Literally. Anything. Or, send that text asking to do karaoke together again sometime, because that really was fun :)