Seizing What Could Be
Perspective Disclaimer I am not a speech-language pathologist, nor do I play one on the internet. There are many fantastic SLPs already doing wonderful work. This three-part series has already analyzed my journey through school-based speech therapy and unveiled a soul-cleansing repentance to the SLPs of my past. In this article, you will find that
We who stutter need more speech-language pathologists with the courage and blunt honesty like what SpeechIRL demonstrated in their new article, “Just Stop with the Damn Disfluency Counts.” The pseudo-anonymous, united approach of this call-to-arms by SpeechIRL is commendable, and perhaps a foundation for a wider proactive movement—not just a discussion—to confront this aged-out stutter-counting practice. And that is how
Perspective Disclaimer I am not a speech-language pathologist, nor do I play one on the internet. There are many fantastic SLPs already doing wonderful work. The first article in this three-part series analyzed my journey through school-based speech therapy. In the following letter, article two, I use a unique format to express deeply held emotions
Perspective Disclaimer I am not a speech-language pathologist, nor do I play one on the internet. There are many fantastic SLPs already doing wonderful work who are waiting to work with we who stutter. This three-part series uses and analyzes my journey through school-based speech therapy as a case study, and includes my history from
During a recent engaging conversation with Dr. Hope Gerlach-Houck, I was able to talk myself through my thoughts on my own definition of concealment in stuttering. Dr. Gerlach-Houck—who is an assistant professor at Western Michigan University and a fast riser in the field of speech-language pathology—posed questions that challenged my long-held belief that I had always chosen to
Stuttering is not the anxiety, hesitations, and fear to struggle. It is what follows the choice to brave each moment of stuttering. What we who stutter do when the tsunami of reactions hits after we stop stuttering, and how we choose to process them is what strengthens it as a disorder. These two choices arise
Several years ago I volunteered to speak on a panel about my experiences in the workplace with a hidden disability. The event was held by company executives in honor of national disability awareness month. There were three other panelists who shared their stories of adjusting to physical disabilities derived from health ailments. I spoke last.
It’s going to be one of the hardest conversations I will ever have. I already feel responsible for it without even knowing if it will come to fruition, but the likelihood is high. I have met many other people who stutter that have said, “oh, my uncle stutters” in response to the question as to
What’s his name? It has stopped me dead in my tracks. W hen I hear the question, I lose all ability to say anything. I can’t even open stutter. My voice goes silent and the first sound of his name gets trapped for what seems like ages in the depths of all the times I’ve struggled to
Why do you talk like that daddy? The anticipation of this question hangs ominously as I wait for my son to learn how to talk. While a toddler, his innocence extends to adults who often express the same uncertainty without saying the words. By accommodating his curiosity, I have the opportunity to describe stuttering as
Every Waking Moment 