I thought things would get better....

Middle school was the height of my existence. I stuttered but it was just a part of how I spoke. It was never a defining characteristic. I was happy. I was teased now again. Typical school-children making their silly remarks and smiling at my stammers and exchanging glances trying not to laugh as if they had just passed a dirty note in church. But I expected it. I was hurt by it, but it never got me down. I knew they were clueless. I saw myself as classy, intelligent, joyful, and loving. I believed those qualities made me better than the children that sank so low as to make fun of my speech, and I was the better for it.


This tradition continued on in some ways when I began high school. There was a comment here and there and handful of stifled giggles, but I had already begun my war with depression and was hardened by it, making me strong enough to stand up to the ignorant snakes that would kick me while I was already so far down. I left high school at a sprint that would make a cheetah drop her jaw.

Then there was relief. There was a great and wonderful peace in the few months after high school and even during my first semester of college. I was at peace with my speech. I had the courage to stand up in front of my English class to do a presentation. No one commented. No one exchanged glances. No one stifled a laugh. They understood. I loved college and I was flying.


Everything was different.
Everyone understood.
No one laughed.
I could live the life I always wanted.


I was wrong.

Everything I'd like to say but can't.....And this is how it feels.

It’s like drowning. Like Earth has stopped spinning and time is anxiously awaiting to begin again. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, staring in fear and confusion. Everything goes dark for the smallest portion of a split second and reality slips away. I am alone in my head with just that one word. I can see it. It’s on the tip if of my tongue, but no matter how far I reach, it’s just out of grasp.  I start to trip, but just before I fall, I catch the tail end and am saved. Earth starts its lazy rotation, Time lets out a sigh of relief and the second hand quickly makes up for the lost moments. Everyone relaxes in their chairs and emits nervous coughs and quick, questioning glances to one another. They lower their gaze, and politely look away as if this is a private moment between me and that word; that word that is just out of reach; that word that is the most important thing to me for just a handful of seconds. I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with the sweetest tasting oxygen and I wonder to myself how long I went without breathing because lungs aren’t supposed to ache this much.

Ache.

There’s an ache in my throat from the strain. There’s an ache in my fingers from the fists they were just forced into. There’s an ache in my pride, the little pride that I have left. By now it’s just a tiny sliver that, if turned at just the right angle, would disappear completely from view. Just like me, if only I were to be so lucky.

What he said...

Sometimes, I don't even notice my stutter. It's become such a part of me that I don't even think about it when it happens.
That's when it hurts the most. That's when it stuns me. That's when I freeze up and a sharp pain shoots through my body and I have to scramble for the proper reaction.
It hurts the most when I don't notice it, but you do.
So I'm sorry for what I said to you. I'm sorry for getting so angry and thinking mean thoughts about you. I'm sorry for ignoring you.
I know you didn't know. I know you didn't mean it the way it came out.

But it hurts.

Everything I'd like to say but can't because: I lied and said I had strep throat (continued)

As I was saying....

The heat from my racing heart causes me to remove my oversized hoody. My palms are sweaty and fidgety. My eyes are wide and I don't think I've blinked in a while. What am I going to say and how the hell am I going to say it? I keep repeating the words in my head. I'm Heidi _________ and I stutter. I'm Heidi ________ and I stutter. (It's a shame that this is the only interesting fact about myself that I can think of.)

Of course the voice in my head is fluent and strong. It is the voice that I imagine myself having when I give big important speeches that have everyone on the edge of their seats hanging on my every syllable. It is the voice I want almost as much as I wish I could sing.

I have to think fast. I am the first person in the second row. Do I introduce myself and risk the ridicule of my fellow classmates?.....Or......Do I lie?
 My throat has been sore for a couple of days. I had put it off to the fact that I have been around a lot of cigarette smoke since school started and I am slightly allergic. I took some cold medicine last night to alleviate the pain.
It worked.
My throat does not hurt today.
But I have to think fast.
I open up my binder to a fresh sheet of loose-leaf. I pick up my pencil and write down the most pitiful lie. The weakest excuse. I write down my security blanket. I could stand up and proudly declare my name and that I am interesting. But I don't because, instead, I lie and say I have strep throat.
     The professor is going down the rows. Each student clearly declares their name; their most precious gift; the one thing that belongs soley to them.
     It is my turn now. I pick up my shame and hand it to him. He is slightly confused and takes it from me hesitantly. He reads and chuckles a little and comments on my interesting fact. (I wrote that I loved to skydive. Although I have only been once, this part is true.) He announces to the class that I have strep. There are a few sympathetic groans but I feel the stares on the back of my head. I hear the whispers they are thinking.
She just wanted to get out of it.
I wish I had thought of that.
Yeah, right. Suuure she has strep. How convenient.

My pulse has returned to a normal pace for me and my skin is not as hot. My palm are just a bit clammy now and I can hear the names of the students. I did it. I have survived. No one laughed at me. I was not mocked.
But I am a liar.

Everything I'd like to say but can't because: I lied and said I have strep throat.

I wish I could sing. I wish I could sing more than I wish I could speak without stuttering. One would assume that, since I do not possess the gift of speaking, that at least I would be able to sing in a way that is attractive and nice to listen to.
    But I cannot. I try to imitate the smoky, jazzy voices of the singers that I love the most but I mostly end up sounding like a dying bird. But I am okay with this since I am normally the only one in my car and I only sing at home when no one is around.

Today was the first day in my American Government class. Of course my heart is racing and my pulse is making my normally cold skin hot to the touch as I read the first line on the syllabus:
                                                          8/26/11  --- Intro/first lesson.
My heart starts at seeing "Intro". Now, this could mean an introduction to how the class works, what the grading scale is like, and if we have homework or not.
   But it could also mean something else. It could mean going around the room to each student. It could mean standing up. It could mean saying my name.

The professor walks in. He is a tall, slender imigrant from the Czech Republic. He is very meek which puts me at ease. Surely he isn't going to make us talk when he is obviously not fond of it himself.  He begins with his name and what the day was going to consist of. "First," he says "I am going to tell you a little bit about the class. Then I want to tell you about myself and where I come from. Afterwards, I would like to hear about you. So I want everyone to say their name and tell us one interesting thing about yourself." My reaction reminds me of a verse I once read in Job; "At this my heart trembles and leaps from its place." I don't think he was nervous though.

   (will be continued....)

Everthing I'd like to say but can't because: I stutter.

I started this blog because:

1.  I read somewhere that only like 1% of Americans stutter. But only 1.000000001% of Americans actually know what it is and how to react to it. (I didn't read that part. It's purely from personal observation). 
2. It's easier than writing and publishing a book.
3. I'm tired of keeping all of this inside.

So, basically this blog is a peek into my life as a Stutterer. Hopefully, whoever is reading this, finds some sort of comfort in the fact that they are not alone. Stuttering sucks. It makes daily tasks that most people take for granted as nerve-racking as...well...I personally can't think of anything more nerve-racking than making a call or speaking in front of a group of people who have no idea what stuttering is. Stuttering controls every aspect of my life. I can't possibly imagine where I would be if I did not stutter. I know I would not be here. I know I would not have gone through the hell that I've been through. If I did not stutter, I could conquer the world. And that, I am sure of. No, I do not have a bad home-life. My life has been pretty serene. My parents are loving and brilliant. I grew up upper-middle class. I have no birth defects. I've been told that I am beautiful. Nothing bad has ever really happened to me. I don't have any deep-dark secrets and, as far as I know, I am not hated by any number of people. Basically, I'm pretty normal by society's standards. But I have a hole growing inside me. It's eats up all of my thoughts and opinions. It absorbs all of my strength and desire to do something grand and important and leaves me with a gaping mouth and muted tones. 

I wish I could tell you this in person. 

I wish I could call you up on the phone and share all of my wondrous plans to lasso the moon.

I wish I could stand up in front of your country, in your TV, in the middle of your living room, and say the words that can change the world.

I wish I could say my name without making you feel uncomfortable.

But I can't because I stutter.