I wanted my family to understand the pain that kept going after the speaking moment. They could hear me stutter. They didn't hear everything I was saying to myself afterward.
I could come home from school after being humiliated and carry it into bed that night. I could be with friends, wanting to say something, and stay quiet. There was a lot of life happening inside my head that my parents and sister did not see.
The day in the driveway
I was about 14 and had a hard appointment with a new speech therapist. She had me making calls. I had done that before, but this session was especially difficult and I felt pushed harder than I wanted to be.
My mother picked me up. I was crying on the drive home and telling her how bad it had felt. When we reached our driveway, I was still crying. She told me that this was something I would have to deal with and that my sister had things of her own to work on.
I remember the exact spot where I stood. What I wanted was a hug and to hear that it would be okay. I experienced that moment as tough love when I felt at my lowest.
That was also when I made the promise I describe in my story: if I found a way through my stuttering, I wanted to help other people who stuttered. It took me a long time. The feeling of that day stayed with me.
When my dad said “relax”
I used to hear that from my father. I have written that it made my speech worse. I wanted him to understand what was happening for me and be more accepting of what I was going through.
I also wrote that I thought he was doing what he felt was right. I questioned my own interpretation: perhaps I was exaggerating, perhaps I was wrong about what he thought. I couldn't know everything he felt inside.
What I can describe is how I experienced it. I felt less favored, and it hurt. I said it made me want to be more patient, more understanding and more helpful toward other people.
What kind of support did I want?
I would have loved someone to help me unpack the day. What happened? Why was it still in my head? What had it felt like when I wanted to join in and didn't dare?
I have said I wished for a big brother who had gone through this. The speech help mattered, and so did the loneliness. I wanted to feel that someone understood the life around those difficult words.
Later, in a conversation about a relationship, I said it was okay to share both good and bad experiences with somebody close. That kind of conversation had another purpose from the preamble I disliked giving to strangers.
When I talk about what I wanted from family, I mean comfort, interest and somebody willing to hear more of what I was carrying. Those are the experiences behind the way I speak about support now.