Possible Escape Route

A few days ago, on a stuttering list-serve, Paul Brocklehurst, who wrote an article in 2002 for the British Stammering Association, wrote this:

"I had started to notice that people are better able to listen to speech that flows, even if it has a lot of errors in it, than they are able to listen to disfluent speech, even if there aren't so many errors."

So, for the past few days, I've experimented with focusing on the overall flow of my speech instead of the individual words, with the goal being to keep going, no matter what, without getting hung up on any bumps that happen along the way.

And I've found that focusing solely on getting through the words without any concern for how each word comes out, pushes me to just go ahead and talk—something I've been trying to get myself to do for seven years.

But the best part is that the idea that flowing speech is more important for effective communication than how smoothly the individual words come out is just what I need to make something besides smoth speech my goal.

It's my safety net—as long as I keep going, it doesn't matter how bumpy or smooth a word comes out. The pressure to get every word right is off.

I'm finally, finally beginning to truly feel like it doesn't matter if I stumble over my words.

So, a huge thank you to Paul. It's early days yet, but he might just have given me the key to get away from my "mustn't stutter" mindset and possibly (dare I say it?) escape from my closet.

Trapped

Two mornings ago, I decided to try stuttering openly—again. I managed it for about half an hour in front of my four-year-old son.

At first it was liberating, as it had been the other times I tried it, but pretty soon that good feeling wore off.

Why, I wondered.

I thought about it, and I think it's because each time I stuttered openly I thought "I'm going to stop stuttering soon" and after a while when I was still stuttering more noticeably than I would have liked, the hope of talking smoother and easier started to fade away, taking with it the good feeling.

So the liberation I felt wasn't from being free to stutter openly, but from a belief that I'd be able to leave my stutter behind me. For good. And soon.

Essentially, I was telling myself it's okay to stutter, but with the sole purpose being to stutter less, so I ended up coming back full circle to my old objective of not stuttering.

Humph.

It's Not My Stutter?

Only a relatively small group of stutterers join self-help groups or seek therapy. I've often wondered who and where the many other stutterers are.

Are they all holed up somewhere even more scared than the rest of us to venture out into the real world?

I don't think so.

Maybe some are unaware that such groups exist or, like I did seven years ago, mistakenly think their speech problem isn't really stuttering since they can, on occasion, talk without any bumps or hesitations.

But I'm guessing many of these go-it-alone stutterers are out living life to the fullest despite their bumpy speech.

Their stutter doesn't bother them!

This makes me wonder whether perhaps, for me, stuttering isn't the problem. Perhaps the only problem I have is the way I view my stutter.

I bet if I felt as ashamed about my eye color as I do about my stutter, I'd be just as much in the closet about my eyes being blue as I currently am about my speech being choppy. I'd look down all the time trying to hide the fact that my eyes aren't brown or green or gray.

Perhaps, then, I shouldn't focus on stuttering at all, but more on how I see myself, and all the various things that make me me.

Back To Square One

On his new blog, stammering mind, PM has written about distraction. After reading it I found myself in a state of utter panic.

If I'm understanding him correctly, he's suggesting that when I go to speak I should substitute my usual obsession of "don't stutter" with something more positive that interests me, like "enjoy the conversation" or even "communicate effectively." This makes sense to me, and I think it's in line with what I've been trying to do for the past fifteen months, namely, not let my stutter have such a big impact on my ability to communicate or on my life in general.

Reading his suggestion, though, terrified me. The thought of opening my mouth to speak without first analyzing whether I'll stutter was just too scary to contemplate. My immediate reaction was "I can't do that. I might stutter!"

But, wait a minute. That's what I've been wishing for: To do away with all the analyzing and to just talk, without worrying about how the words come out.

Then everything became painfully clear: I am no more okay with the fact that I stutter as I was fifteen months ago when I started this blog.

I still hate my stutter. I still want desperately to pass as a non-stutterer. I still want to do whatever it takes to hide my stutter. I am still very much entrenched in my closet with the door firmly closed.

And I'm wondering whether all these lovely tactics I've drummed up over the months about thinking positively after each stutter, staying in the moment, and so on are basically useless until I truly learn to like or at least live amicably with my speech impediment.

Is this why so many stutterers experience relapse after they find a technique or therapy that seems to work for them?

Stutterers often mention how a technique's effectiveness "wore off." Did it wear off? Or did an underlying dislike for stuttering generate a nagging fear that the stuttering might return, which eventually interfered with the technique's usefulness?

I see now that before I have any hope of getting out of my stuttering closet and just going ahead and talking, stuttering has to stop being something I dread.

It's like the co-worker who's personality completely clashes with your own but in order to work effectively together day in and day out you somehow have to find a way to enjoy or at least tolerate their company. You can't dread being around them or you'll hate your job. You can't avoid them or you'll never get your work done. You have to live with them, annoying characteristics and all.

So, Sophie, meet your new co-worker, Stutter. He'll be helping you on your long-term communication project. He has his quirks, but if you can grow to like them, the two of you will work well together and make the project a huge success.

In, Out, and Shake It All About

When I look outward—what do other people think of me, particularly my stutter?—I find myself retreating further and further into my closet.

I feel compelled to pass as a non-stutterer. I do everything to hide my stutter. I only say the words I think I can say smoothly. And as a result, only a fraction of the real me is visible.

Conversely, I've discovered that when I look inward—what do I think of me?—I gain the freedom and courage to leave my closet.

I no longer feel compelled to hide my stutter and that empowers me to be the real me, stutter and all.

It seems funny to me that to truly go out into the world, I have to look inward, but maybe that's one of the many ironies of life.

Looking Forward

This morning, I passed a billboard that was filled with encouraging phrases for staying on a diet. This one caught my eye:

What matters is what you do next.

I think this could work for my stutter, too. Bad speaking experience? Don't dwell on it. Just keep talking and maybe next time it'll be better.

I would make one small change, though. I would replace the word "next" with the word "now."

I already worry too much about the words that are coming up next. Better to think only about what I'm saying now (and even then not think about that too much).

Characteristic or Cause?

Often on stuttering list-serves I hear stutterers suggest that having a stutter pushes them to work harder to make up for their speech. Examples given include staying at work later than their colleagues who don't stutter, doing more than is required at the non-speaking aspects of the job, etc.

And I certainly fit into that category. I remember thinking that I had to do all the written work beyond what was expected to compensate for my stutter.

However, I just wonder whether this belief is putting the cart before the horse.

Could it not be that people with the drive to prove themselves, to be the cream of the crop, who have perfectionistic tendencies might be more likely to stutter? Could these tendencies be part of the cause rather than a result of stuttering?

After all, many stutterers observe that their stuttering lessens when they accept that they stutter and essentially allow themselves to speak imperfectly.

I just wonder.