a stuttering introduction
Hello
My name is Asia
I am 23 years old
I have a stutter
What exactly is a stutter and why did I care to mention it if this is a writing blog?
You see, we’ve all stuttered. It’s in that moment as you’re presenting to a crowd of children in 7th grade who could care less about Amelia Earhart. It is the shakes you get in your voice. The repetition of phonics, vowels, words, or phrases. The tension in your jaw, mouth or tongue when it's your turn to go up to the board and explain why recycling is good for the environment. It is where the phrase “speak up boy” comes from when you’re being yelled at by your parents because you are just too scared to admit the truth so you try to lie about it and lose the fight. There is hesitation in your voice, a quiver perhaps, while you stand amongst your peers in a conference room to discuss your marketing plan. Your mind-body connection is shuffling through radio channels struggling to get a clear signal. It is the panic you might feel that arises as you walk across the stage with bright lights searing your skin, cooking your eyes alive and suddenly you have no recollection of what your speech was.
That’s the little thing. And that is what most people think of when it comes to stuttering. That’s what most people feel is happening to them when they stutter. It is the little things and little moments that 99% of the world population has.
But not the other 1%.
Imagine if this was your everyday.
Imagine if you were constantly rehearsing lines,
Rehearsing lines of the interview you have tomorrow.
Making sure that everything they might ask about you can answer,
clearly and without hesitation.
Or practicing lines of the section of Bless Me Ultima you have to read aloud in class. Sweating as you start to count the number of paragraphs you have until it is your turn. Repeating it over and over again in your head. Hoping that it is a short section. Not remembering anything that you just read because you were too busy focusing on each syllable, hoping no one would bat an eye. And then an exacerbated exhale, praying to someone that the bell will ring before it comes back to you.
Rehearsing the lines of an everyday conversation. So simple, yet grueling. Analyzing how it will unfold. Hoping that you can just derail it or find backup words in case you can’t say what you were intending.
And of course, rehearsing your own name
because sometimes you can’t say that either.
Imagine your every day was having a civil war in your head. While someone is speaking you are already thinking of what you’re going to say. Yet at the same time, while you think about that, you also think about what list of words you can use that you won’t stutter on. But then, of course, imagine, imagine when you realize that the word you thought you could say you can’t and so now you have to think of another word fast but now they’re looking at you funny so you have to insert an “um” “well” maybe a “ahaha” and a dash of “like” to prolong the conversation until your brain can double back and look for an alternative oh there’s always an alternative oh I got the word.
You can always act dumb like you forgot what you were talking about. Or simply say never mind, because the moment is fleeting, connections are fleeting, and my thoughts, whatever they were, are not important enough to struggle through it again.
Imagine your block (the tension of your jaw which prevents you from producing any sounds at all) is so bad people start to laugh at you. They wonder what you’re doing. They keep asking “what??” “what are you doing?” “what are you saying?!” confused as to why I paused midsentence. But they don’t know that my response is just a small, yet one very big block away. They don’t understand. The looks on their faces. You should see them. Those never change. Many of them are confused, yes. Others are angry, fueled by impatience. A couple of blank stares. But most are ashamed. They are ashamed to look at my twisted face as I struggle.
And nothing brings me to tears more than seeing myself struggle when I see myself.
That is what Stuttering is. That is what it means to stutter for me.
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This was a previous section I wrote (slightly updated because I am no longer 20) a few years back. That is when I started my stuttering journey. Since then my previous blog shifted in a way that I believe would be perfect for here. If you want to know the private inner turmoils of what I go through I think I’ll leave it for my other blog but this one, this one I want to talk about the everyday life of a PWS (person who stutters).
I wrote in the beginning that I stutter because it is a part of my identity. It is a part of me. Since 2017 I have continued on this journey to self-acceptance (with plenty of ups and downs) and I will continue to do so. I stuttered all throughout my second interview yesterday and didn’t even cry about it. I call that progress! And while I have good fluency days and bad (this you will learn), if there is one thing that I've learned since starting this is that I’m not alone. I’ve felt alone all my life. And I am more sure that I will be okay. But boy, do I have some stories for you. The life of a PWS is an interesting one and for the 1% (wow I can finally call myself being a part of a 1%, just not the 1%) who go through this let me tell you that same 99% have no idea what we go through.
Where to start?
