The Unpredictability of Stuttering

I’ve been reading a book recently called Redefining Stuttering: What the struggle to speak is really all about by John Harrison. There’s a section in the book where Harrison describes the unpredictability of stuttering and why we stutter in some situations and not other situations. The way Harrison portrays what stuttering is like is very accurate and rather than trying to describe it myself, feel free to read it below. I hope this helps give you a glimpse of what stuttering is like.

"I once tried to explain this mindset to a non-stuttering friend. Imagine, I said to him, that you’re walking merrily along the street after an uneventful shopping trip to Macy’s when all of a sudden this gloved hand comes out of nowhere and — WHUMP! — it bops you on the nose. Not hard. Not so it draws blood. But sudden enough to startle you. “Hmph!” you say. “Now where did that come from?” 

A bit ruffled, you continue on down the street. You walk into the bank to make a deposit. Just when you step up to teller window and open your mouth to speak, a gloved hand comes out of nowhere and — WHUMP! — it bops you on the nose. Not hard, but hard enough to disconcert you. 

You make your deposit and leave the bank. Walking by a newsstand, you feel a bit rattled and decide to buy a magazine to take your mind off of your anxieties. You fish around for the right change, hand it to the man behind the counter, open your mouth to ask for the magazine...and suddenly this gloved hand comes out of nowhere and — WHUMP! — it bops you on the nose. 

How is the world feeling right now? Unpredictable.
It’s lunchtime, so you walk into a local eatery. As you walk through the door, you notice you’re doing something you didn’t do before. You’re scanning the room ahead of you, looking for that damned gloved hand. Your schnozz is tired of getting bopped. Except nothing happens. Reassured, you find an empty table, sit down, and open up the menu. Ah, the roast beef sandwich looks great. The waiter comes over to take your order. 
“What would you like,” he says.

“The roast beef on whole wheat,” you answer.

“Anything on the side?”

“Yeah, an order of fries.”

“And to drink?”

“A Miller Lite.”

“What was that again”

“A....” You go to repeat Miller Lite, but you never make it, because suddenly a gloved hand comes out of nowhere and — WHUMP! — it bops you on the nose. 

Oh stop it!!! Why is this happening? None of it makes any sense. Why could you buy a shirt in Macy’s without incident, and then walk into the restaurant and get bopped. This constant surprise is driving you crazy. My friend said he now understood why I found the world so unpredictable." 

Speech Therapy

It’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen her. During those years, failure gripped me and stuttering controlled me. The painful experiences of my stuttering haunted me and my future of being fluent seemed to fade away. I was afraid to see her again, ashamed to even show my face in her house again. After all she did for me throughout the years, the least I could do was show her speech therapy paid off, that I was finally fluent. No matter how hard I practiced, I couldn’t give her the fluency that she wanted, the fluency that I wanted.

So there I was, desperately going back to speech therapy in my last years of high school. I was desperate to find an answer. A few weeks before, I broke down crying in my room because I couldn’t be fluent in the safety of my own home. I was sitting alone in my room practicing my exercises looking for fluency but only finding my stutter. I don’t think I told anyone. Its experiences like that I bottled up and didn’t know how to express to others. 

As I walked into the familiar walkway of her house, she greeted me with a smile and a hug. I was nervous in front of her, still trying to be fluent, still trying to show her that my speech has improved. We sat down at her table in the living room while her two dogs were running around, excited to see me. I was excited to see them yet nervous to be there. I felt the familiar cushion on the chair as I squirmed my way into the seat, the same feeling I felt when I first saw her in 3rd grade. Therapy was different at that age. I rarely thought about my stuttering; I was too focused on having fun and playing basketball, making sure I beat my older brother one day. 

Before I knew it, the session started. I expected that we would do the same breathing techniques and work on the same stuff as before. Breathe in and breathe out, pause after you say the first word. If I stuttered on a word, I would have to go back, slow down and say it again. Breathe, slow down, breathe, slow down, breathe, slow down. Instead of working on my speech, to my surprise we did something entirely different. She handed me a blank piece of paper and asked me to draw how I felt about my stuttering. She left me alone with that blank piece of paper as she tended to her dogs.

I picked up the pencil and started to draw. Each and every stroke expressed an emotion I felt about my stuttering. At the end, I was surprised and afraid at what I drew. I was afraid of looking at my true self. I drew a person with a sad face and tears streaming down the cheeks. Of course, I drew me. I sat there staring myself in the drawing, starting to tear up. She came back and we talked about the picture and why I drew it. 

To this day, I still remember how refreshing it was to let down and let go with my speech therapist. It helped me tremendously to finally be aware of all the stuff I felt with my stuttering. If you are a speech therapist or know of a friend who stutters, don’t forget about the power of just listening and being there for them. 

The Freedom to Stutter

As I stood there in front of the cashier, I was pondering what to order and how I was going to say it, hoping to not stutter. I was ready. I had everything I wanted to say in my mind and I’ve ordered food here before with no problem. I’ve got this. I’ve ordered a bacon cheeseburger hundreds of times, which is a separate issue. I confidently said, “I’ll take the bbbbbb…” and on and on I went blocking on the B on bacon, which seemed like forever. I stood there blocking on this word, not knowing when the word would come out. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time, where I couldn’t even get the word out. Usually, I can stumble my way around words and get out what I need to say. As the blocking kept getting worse, the person at the counter started printing a receipt and grabbing a pen. I knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted me to write down my order, as if I couldn’t speak. Until that day, the thought of not being able to speak never really entered my mind. I did not want to go down that road. I did not want to settle for writing down what I wanted to say. Even if I needed to stand there for five minutes blocking on this word, it was going come out and I was determined. I was not going to give up. I wanted my cheeseburger with bacon. Why is it that bacon is always hard to say? Why can’t salad be difficult to say? I wouldn’t mind not ordering a salad because of my stuttering.

Eventually, the word came out without the need to write down my order. I was able to eat my bacon cheeseburger with BBQ sauce and no pickles in peace. I also ordered that side salad with ease.

I share that experience because in my last support group, we talked about a hypothetical question to spark more conversation within the group. Sometimes, support groups can be a little dull if no one wants to talk, which happens quite often in a group of people who stutter. Luckily, the person who leads our group loves to talk. But this time around, we were trying something new. I’m usually not the one to throw my ideas out there and see what people think about them. Most of the time, I’m not sure if my questions or ideas are brilliant or just weird and don’t make sense. Recently, however, there was a question that I have been pondering for awhile and wanted to know what other people thought.

If you had the choice between being fluent or being free from the fear and anxiety of stuttering, what would you choose? For those who don’t stutter, if you had the choice to keep living with your weakness or be free from it, what would you choose? I once read an article about people who stutter which asked them this same question. They found that people who seek fluency often carry a heavier burden of anxiety and fear because they’re constantly working on being fluent. I did this throughout middle school and high school. I was consumed with being fluent and did all I can to get rid of my stutter. Acceptance was not even on my radar. Acceptance was a sign of giving up and I was not about to give up. However, the more pressure I put on myself to be fluent, the heavier the burden I felt. Every time I stuttered, it was a dagger to my heart. It was proof that I failed to be fluent.

If you asked me whether I wanted to be fluent or free back in high school, hands down, fluency would’ve been the first words out of my mouth. But now, as an adult, I’m a bit lost. I don’t know which I would choose. If my stuttering were to go away over night, I would feel empty without it. With all the tears and sweat I had gone through with stuttering, I’ve grown attached to it. If I were fluent though, would the anxiety still be there? Would the fear of blocking and stuttering go away? In my younger days, I fought to be fluent, and at times I found myself being fluent; but I was not free. I was fluent but afraid to stutter. On the outside fluency would come and go, but on the inside, fear of stuttering would always be there.

Acceptance was the key to finding that freedom. Free to be myself and not be afraid of my stuttering. Free to stutter proudly, without shame and embarrassment.

A Breath of Fresh Air

You know that moment, when you’re relaxing on the front porch, rocking back and forth in an old wooden rocking chair, sipping on some sweat tea and humming along to some George Strait country, taking in the scenery of the land. The peacefulness of the outdoors just flows through your body. You finally feel relaxed, not burdened by the stress of daily life. That is exactly what it feels like having a conversation with someone else who stutters. It’s a breath of fresh air. It’s relieving. 

For the past couple of years, I’ve been regularly attending a stuttering support group with the National Stuttering Association (NSA), and for one night out of the month, I feel normal. Stuttering is not feared or awkwardly ignored, it’s accepted and even sometimes encouraged by the group. I stutter all the time in the group, and so does everyone else! I feel no pressure to speed up at all or be fluent. In fact it’s quite the opposite, I feel comfortable stuttering. For the first time, I can actually focus on what I’m saying instead of how I’m saying it. A couple of times, I catch myself reverting back to being afraid and not wanting to stutter in the support group, but then I remember that everyone else stutters and it doesn’t really matter. If only I could have that same attitude everywhere I went. 

At first, being a part of the NSA support group scared me. Seeing other people stutter reminded me of the pain and frustration I felt with my own stuttering. I have to admit, it was hard watching other people stutter, fighting so much harder than I did to speak. Everything in me just wanted to help them speak so they didn’t have to. As time went by, I started to realize the power of the support group. The tough times were getting easier and my stuttering became less of a burden. I wasn’t alone anymore. I still stuttered a lot and still had hard days at work, but knowing that I had friends, who also stuttered and felt what I felt, made all the difference. It was a breath a fresh air.

Living with Tourette Syndrome

“Will you please be quiet?” the highly stressed-out English teacher said. The student he was kept fidgeting with his book and clearing his throat like he had something stuck in it. Sitting still was something the student was not familiar with. In high school, our class of about 30 had a session called “sustained silent reading” which lasted for about 30 minutes. During this time, everyone in the class had to sit quietly and read a book. Unfortunately, in high school I hated to read; so, this was the longest 30 minutes of my life. I usually spent this time trying to figure out new ways I could shut my eyes without the teacher knowing, but this day I was riveted on what was going to happen with this one student – my friend. After the teacher told him to be quiet, I knew it was down hill from there because after all he did have Tourettes Syndrome. I watched him as he nervously sat in his old wooden desk, fidgeting with his book, moving his eyes back and forth, clearing his throat again and again and making a couple of high pitch sounds. That was the teacher’s last straw; he gave him detention right there on the spot. This student was the only other person I knew, other than myself, who had Tourettes Syndrome.  

The Phone Call

When I woke up this morning I did not know that I would have a phone call that I would never forget. A phone call that would make me think twice about my job, my career, my abilities and myself as a person.

The phone rang like it normally did and I answered it like I normally did, “S TTTTTTTTTTT S Office th th th th this is Andrew.” I’ve given up on trying to hide my stutter over the phone. I’ve been able to get by with it for a while but this time it wasn’t going well. The guy asked a question and I tried answering it, stuttering all the way through like a pro, “all of our S TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT”, I couldn’t even get half through my sentence without him interrupting me. “I’m sorry I can’t even understand you, all of your what?” if you let me finish my sentence you would know what. So I tried it again, “all of our S TTTTTTTT S evvvvvvvvvvvvvents are on our website” I said running out of air. “What’s on your website? Do you even know the answer to my question? Is there someone else there I can talk to who does know?” By this time, I was trying to figure out ways to abort the conversation. I have had it with this guy! I can’t even finish my sentences without him interrupting me and he can’t even understand me. It is a lose, lose situation. “Yes, you can t t t t t t t t t talk with our p p p p p p p p p program manager.” I finally got it out. That was it I’m done. “What about your program manager? I can even understand you. Can you just transfer me?” I transferred him in a heartbeat. I wanted nothing more to do with this guy.

My first thoughts after a conversation like this are always extreme. I start thinking thoughts like I’m so incompetent. I’m dumb and stupid. I can’t do this job. I’m never going to move up in my career cause I can’t even talk to people. I wish I could just escape all this and live in a cabin in the woods and become a mountain man. I want to cry and yet callous my heart to these feelings at the same time. I want to ignore them because I don’t know how to handle them.

This is not the first time this has happened and it’s definitely not going to be the last. After the phone call, I was pondering on how I was going to react and deal with this situation and all these feelings I was feeling. Then I realized that earlier on in the day I was able to have some pretty great conversations with total strangers who didn’t care I stuttered. I noticed how easy it was for me to forget all the good conversations I’ve had and yet carry around all the negative ones I’ve had. So I decided to let it go. It’s not going to be easy to let it go and it will definitely leave a scar on my heart but just like with anything tough situation, you have to just get back up and keep at it. Even though I wanted to quit talking for the rest of the week, I had to get back to my office and keep talking and just before you know it the phone rang again.

The Day Chipotle Added Brown Rice

I love Chipotle. Anyone who knows me also knows that I love Chipotle. I love the way Chipotle looks. I love the way Chipotle smells. I especially love the way Chipotle tastes when that warm burrito just melts in your mouth. Best of all, I love the how Chipotle gives you extra cheese with no extra charge! Mind bottling! I know! I even love the word “Chipotle” and how it just rolls off the tongue. With ease I can proclaim to others my favorite fast food restaurant, “Chipotle is the b b b b best of the b b b best” of course Chipotle will always come out with ease, regardless of my stuttering.

Ordering food is the best part of Chipotle. Now if you don’t know, for people who stutter, ordering food is a nightmare within a nightmare (if that makes any sense). On a weekly basis, I usually order a soda that I never drink just because it comes with the meal. Telling the clerk that I just want water rather than a coke is just out of the question. I would rather eat my meal and be thirsty than change the whole order and go through the fight of asking for water. I will, however, fight with all my strength to ask for no mayo.

So when I first ordered at Chipotle, I loved it! All the pointing I could do was just unbelievable! And the one-word answers were just like heaven on earth!

“What would you like today sir?” Burrito!

“What kind of beans would you like?” Pinto!

“What kind of meat?” Steak!

“Salsa?” No Salsa, I’ll take cheese. Wait a minute…extra cheese!

“Would that be it?” Yup!

There you have it, the best of the best! As simple as can be! I can order a whole meal with just saying a couple of words, words that I could actually say fluently. Then they added brown rice. Now they ask me what kind of rice I would like and of course “white” or “brown” are words I can barely say. The word “wh wh wh wh wh wh white” just leaves me breathless, gasping for more air and “b b b b b b b b b b brown” blocks my air flow leaving me completely silent, awkwardly contorting my face.

Even though ordering food at Chipotle has become more difficult, I still love it. There’s a sense of pride and victory I feel when I fight through my stutter and order the meal I want. Sometimes it leaves me never wanting to go back but there are those rare moments where I feel stronger and glad that I was able to get through it.