Stuttering

I wrote this late at night. I wrote this sad and lonely. I wrote this as and when I thought it. These are my raw, authentic thoughts. This was written a year ago within 2 hours. I still read it to this day to feel less alone in my thoughts. I hope it can do the same for you.

Forever Living:

We don't choose to be born. That’s the simple, brutal fact of it. Some of us spend a lifetime waiting for that burden to feel like a gift, for purpose to finally announce itself. But it doesn't always arrive on time. Some never have the patience to see if it will come at all.

But what happens when it never arrives? Do you keep waiting? Do you seek it out? Or do you give up entirely?

This isn't just a mood. It's a haunting substance, an emptiness so potent it materialises, a curse sealed within the high walls of your own mind. They lead you to believe you have full control over those walls, so when they start to crumble, it must be your fault. Why would I choose this? The pieces of myself have been dismantled and distorted too many times. Even when I force them back together, the new shape never looks the same, never acts the same. It never makes sense.

You can try to fill the void with other things, substances of a similar evil: anger, drugs, heartbreak. But true emptiness remains. It's not something you feel, but something you recognise. You see its face in the mirror as it whispers to you. You resent it, and so you resent yourself. It's a self-destructing line of code buried so deep you can't separate it from your soul. It devours you from the inside until the person you show the world is just a solemn, hollowed-out reflection.

Wind blows. Trees fall. I don't know. I try to take a photo every day of something I admire. Nature always seems to withstand the test of time, an unformidable force. Then again, nature also plays a part in its own destruction. Nature, like me, did not decide to live. But somehow, it survives. And I did too. I think.

The emptiness manipulates, deceives, and distorts reality itself, until you wholeheartedly believe that drowning in nothingness is easier than living. And I don’t know what living is supposed to feel like, but man, I know it is fucking difficult. I never seem to want it. No matter how hard I try, I’m lost. It all seems so pointless, and that’s exactly what the emptiness wants me to think. Maybe I’m just easy prey. Maybe I was never supposed to be here at all.

And yet, the world outside keeps making noise.

I hear (name)'s voice, a ghost from a past conversation, saying she wanted to kill herself, that she couldn't take it anymore. And I remember how I just listened. I hear my sister struggling with school. I hear my dad drowning in his unnerving need to keep moving. I hear my mum behind me, her voice thick with tears, pleading. I hear my brother, seemingly cruising through life without a scratch. I hear (name)'s heartbreak. I hear (name)'s joyful jokes. I hear my own laugh, and I cringe. I hear (name) asking if I’m okay, but I don't hear myself asking her the same question back. I hear (name) misses home. I hear (name), and I honestly can't tell with him; he seems fine, and I never ask any further. It's easier to accept that everything is fine.

I hear my dog, Luna, as she whimpers or walks like a Prada model across the floor. I hear Barney’s smell—it really is that bad—and his low growl, and I see the gunk in his eyes, and for a moment, I forget I’m alone. I hear (name) updating me on his sex life, and in the middle of it all, I wonder: do they know? Do they know that I hate myself? Do they know how hard it is every single morning? If I told them, would they really understand?

Every day, I grapple with the decision I made the day before to keep going. I question it, I doubt it, I grieve it. And for each day this thought brutally ravages my mind, I lose another part of myself, as if I had already died yesterday and my present is just a projection of what could have been. Disconnected. Disheartened. Distrustful. How can I rebuild a mind of positivity when it seems so set on destroying itself? It's completely illogical. Without reason. It makes it impossible to grasp. Why. Why. Why. It’s a question that can never be answered, and so: why, why, why…

I laugh a lot. I think I always did, but I’m not sure anymore. Maybe I convinced myself I was happy, and maybe, for a little while, it worked. Everything is so uncertain. So unexplainable. I suppose I do it to myself, so desperate for love that I would sincerely hate myself to get it. I’m not doing so well. I think I should call my mum. I know I should, and yet something stops me. A part of me wants to let go. And as I cry just writing this, I know a part of me thinks I am capable of removing myself—my thoughts, my feelings, my uncertainty. The only certainty in this life is death. But I can’t face it. I'm too scared. It’s even more unknown than tomorrow.

I should call someone. It hurts to even think it—that I have to be reminded that someone else is there, waiting next to the darkness, maybe even consuming some of it. But I'm still here.

"I wish I was brave enough to end it."

No. I hate that. I hate that I just wrote it, thought it, believed it. And there it is again, the familiar voice: you hate yourself.

My mind is a paradox. I’m overly self-aware until I am fully consumed by myself and only myself. I had to relearn how to walk because I was so conscious of my own existence it became a physical burden. My head stayed down, my legs went numb, and my movement felt alien, all because I was lost in the thought that everyone was watching me. Not even judging me. Just seeing me was enough to make my own skin feel like a cage.

If they really saw me, if they saw my struggle, the ignorant way in which they see the world would be shattered. I don’t blame them. I would do anything to protect that view. It’s not that I think my perspective is the right one—I'd give anything to have theirs. Or maybe just to not have one at all. To be quiet inside for once. It seems like everyone else can just... focus. They can point their thoughts in a direction and make them go. Mine refuse. They poke and prod at my brain whenever they want. I have no control.

I should call someone. What would I even say? I'm not good at pretending with my mum. I try to tell her absolutely everything. It makes it easier when the thoughts get more clouded. I give words to the shadows and pass them along. What a horrible thing to do.

I have an order for my diagnoses, for how I reveal the fractured parts of myself. When we first become friends, I have ADHD. When I get to know you, when I feel comfortable, I have anxiety. I get stressed. I struggle in certain situations. Only a very few people have I ever told the final truth: I have depression. I don't like telling people that one. It sounds hopeless and needy. Because everyone struggles to concentrate, everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes. But not everyone feels eternally hopeless. With anxiety, I can rationalise the stressor. You can't rationalise depression. There’s nothing anyone could have said to change my mind back then. I just… didn’t. A subconscious decision to survive.

Don’t get me wrong, a panic attack is terrifying. But it’s the despair after the storm has passed that is the true horror. The world turns to black and white. Everything stops moving as I stare into nothing, completely enveloped by a stillness that feels like an out-of-body experience.

My mind is constantly talking, bickering, stuttering. My thoughts are so close to my reality it feels like everyone should be able to hear them, as muddled and yet as clear as I can. They touch my tongue and embody my heart. They search my soul and grow like roots into my veins. I am constantly fighting them, standing between two opposing armies in my own head, battling my way to the better thought. But I don't always make it. I fall.

But you do get up.

I'm going to call someone now.

A lot of people use performing arts, such as theatre, as an outlet. It turns out that a lot of fictional characters do, too! Here is a list of books featuring thespians with health challenges:

1. “The Chance To Fly” by Ali Stroker
Thirteen-year-old Nat Beacon loves a lot of things: her dog Warbucks, her best friend Chloe, and competing on her wheelchair racing team, the Zoomers, to name a few. But there’s one thing she’s absolutely OBSESSED with: MUSICALS! From Hamilton to Les Mis, there’s not a cast album she hasn’t memorized and belted along to. She’s never actually been in a musical though, or even seen an actor who uses a wheelchair for mobility on stage. Would someone like Nat ever get cast? But when Nat’s family moves from California to New Jersey, Nat stumbles upon auditions for a kids’ production of Wicked, one of her favorite musicals ever! And she gets into the ensemble! The other cast members are super cool and inclusive (well, most of them)—especially Malik, the male lead and cutest boy Nat’s ever seen. But when things go awry a week before opening night, will Nat be able to cast her fears and insecurities aside and “Defy Gravity” in every sense of the song title?

2. “Cut Loose” by Ali Stroker
The showstopping sequel to “The Chance to Fly”, “Cut Loose!” by Tony Award–winner Ali Stroker and Stacy Davidowitz is an uplifting story about embracing your strengths, standing out, and standing up for what you believe in. It’s the beginning of eighth grade, and Nat Beacon is nervous. Not only will she be the New Kid, but the New Kid in a Wheelchair. And the school year starts off No one seems friendly, and she can’t get to the cafeteria without help. But there are a few bright spots. Namely, her best friend, Hudson; her boyfriend (swoon!), Malik; and her very favorite theater. This year, there’s a middle school theater competition, and any production that wins their regional competition will get the chance to perform—on a real Broadway stage! Nat couldn’t be more excited. This is her chance to make it big and prove she belongs at her new school! She wows the director and gets cast in the school Footloose! But rehearsals are super stressful. Dance diva Skye wants more complex choreography, Malik keeps flaking for band practice, and Hudson gives Nat the cold shoulder, leaving Nat confused and alone. Nat starts to wonder whether she can really carry the show to Broadway and whether, without her friends, it’s worth doing theater at all.

3. “Fade To Us” by Julia Day
Fade To Us is a story about found families, the bond of sisterhood, and the agony and awe of first love. Brooke’s summer is going to be EPIC—having fun with her friends and a job that lets her buy a car. Then her new stepfather announces his daughter is moving in. Brooke has always longed for a sibling, so she’s excited about spending more time with her stepsister. But she worries, too. Natalie has Asperger’s—and Brooke’s not sure how to be the big sister that Natalie needs. After Natalie joins a musical theater program, Brooke sacrifices her job to volunteer for the backstage crew. She’s mostly there for Natalie, but Brooke soon discovers how much she enjoys being part of the show. Especially sweet is the chance to work closely with charming and fascinating Micah—the production’s stage manager. If only he wasn’t Natalie’s mentor… When summer comes to an end, will Brooke finally have the family she so desperately wants—and the love she’s only dreamed about?

4. “Short” by Holly Goldberg Sloan
Julia is very short for her age, but by the end of the summer run of The Wizard of Oz, she'll realize how big she is inside, where it counts. She hasn't ever thought of herself as a performer, but when the wonderful director of Oz casts her as a Munchkin, she begins to see herself in a new way. As Julia becomes friendly with the poised and wise Olive—one of the adults with dwarfism who've joined the production's motley crew of Munchkins—and with her deeply artistic neighbor, Mrs. Chang, Julia's own sense of self as an artist grows. Soon, she doesn't want to fade into the background and it's a good thing, because her director has more big plans for Julia!

5. “Say It Out Loud” by Allison Varnes
Charlotte Andrews is perfectly fine being quiet—in fact, she prefers it. When she doesn’t speak, people can’t make fun of her stutter. But when she witnesses bullying on the school bus and doesn’t say anything, her silence comes between her and her best friend. As if that wasn’t bad enough, her parents signed her up for musical theater. Charlotte doesn’t want to speak onstage, but at least she doesn’t stutter when she sings. Then, just as she starts to find her voice, the arts program is cut. Charlotte can’t stay silent anymore. So she begins to write. Anonymous encouraging notes to her classmates. Letters to the school board to save the school musical. And an essay about the end of her best friendship—and her hope that she can still save it. Words could save Charlotte Andrews and everything she believes in… if she just believes in herself enough to speak up.

6. “Scars Like Wings” by Erin Stewart
Ava Lee has lost everything there is to lose: Her parents. Her best friend. Her home. Even her face. She doesn't need a mirror to know what she looks like—she can see her reflection in the eyes of everyone around her. A year after the fire that destroyed her world, her aunt and uncle have decided she should go back to high school. Be "normal" again. Whatever that is. Ava knows better. There is no normal for someone like her. And forget making friends—no one wants to be seen with the Burned Girl, now or ever. But when Ava meets a fellow survivor named Piper, she begins to feel like maybe she doesn't have to face the nightmare alone. Sarcastic and blunt, Piper isn't afraid to push Ava out of her comfort zone. Piper introduces Ava to Asad, a boy who loves theater just as much as she does, and slowly, Ava tries to create a life again. Yet Piper is fighting her own battle, and soon Ava must decide if she's going to fade back into her scars . . . or let the people by her side help her fly.

📚 Happy reading! 🎭

#themightyreaders #performingartistsonthemighty #SpinalCordInjury #Paralysis #AspergersSyndrome #Dwarfism #Stuttering #burnsurvivors

This I Believe. I wrote this speech for my community college public speaking course in high school.

My name is Grant, and I’m a person who stutters. I consider my stuttering as a gift because it allows me to interact and see the world in a different way than I would have been able to if I were fluent. For, only 1 percent of the population gets the chance to see the world through a stutterer’s eyes. But there’s also a flip side to being a part of the 1 percent who stutter because sometimes I can feel like I’m the only one. Though stuttering has presented me with some unique challenges, it has undoubtedly helped shape the person I have become today, and I believe ultimately helped show me the importance of empathy, vulnerability, and understanding.

The challenges that I face being a person who stutters are unique in themselves and would probably seem benign to the normal fluent speaker. But to me, being a person who stutters, it feels like a life-or-death situation. The red sirens go off in my head to get the word out, and then I start to push. The flight or fight mechanism gets triggered, and I then just want to escape from the situation. At one point in time, just the act of having to raise my hand or speak in class produced anxiety originating from fears of being ridiculed or being made fun of because I stutter.

The toughest thing for me now is having to tell people that I stutter and that I have a speech impediment because having a stutter and being open, talking about it, and letting my voice be heard opens up a window of vulnerability. And sometimes, that vulnerability can get tiring when I have to explain myself to people all the time. But when you stutter, there is not really another option. I can either be open about it and use it as an asset to connect with people. Or I can choose to be silent and suppress my voice. I’ve tried both of these options, and I can say being vulnerable is the best option. Though it does get tiring to have people see ‘’all of me’’ and one of my deepest insecurities that I stutter, I still believe the positives outweigh the negatives. For, being vulnerable allows me to connect with other people on a deeper level because I’m already willing to put myself out there first.

Besides how vulnerability has helped draw me closer to certain people, I believe stuttering has, more importantly, made me a more understanding and empathetic person. Stuttering has a unique ability to shape a person’s character and what they value in life. Given my unique experiences and challenges in life that being a person who stutters has presented me with, it has led me to believe that empathy and understanding are the two greatest characteristics that a person can encompass. For me, there’s nothing truly like a person who honestly tries to understand my struggles and what I’m dealing with. For, that is the type of person that I strive to be someone who is accepting, empathetic, and understanding of all people’s unique vulnerabilities.

“Social media is not evil – it is merely an extension of human nature”

A 10 minute essay

It is all we ever seem to here from all sorts of people in all walks of life, isn’t it – social media is evil, is a force for bad and is to blame for many of the ‘evils’ in our world…

I think that 95% of the negativity people find, believe and/or spread around social media is simply an extension of that inbuilt feature of the human condition that psychologists call ‘projection’ – our natural tendency to allow the negative energy, uncomfortable emotions and unprocessed inner angst – the stresses that are an inevitable part of dealing with life’s problems and pain – to bubble away within us like we are volatile volcanoes, always slowly stuttering towards eruption…

I think our society, western culture and the many pressures and influences we are subjected in our daily lives delude us into believing that the ‘negative’ uncomfortable human emotions; sadness, loss, pain, anxiety, depression, envy etc. are to be ignored, brushed under the carpet or given quick-fix solutions, medicated away or otherwise treated with temporary forms of relief, applied like sticking-plasters. This is where the real evils in our world begin to fester and permeate.

I believe that we need to engage fully with learning to process and deal with our stresses, these ‘negative’ emotions, accepting that they are in reality a natural, essentially healthy an actual fact a truly balancing part of human nature. We need to teach this from the earliest age to our children, and reinforce it continuously throughout every stage of childhood and adolescence. We need to prioritise personal growth as one of, if not the most important things we can ever learn.

Then, and perhaps only then, can we begin to help others learn how to do this difficult but absolutely essential work of self-analysis, thought processing and changing the nature of how we think and feel, and subsequently how we act upon our inner struggles – the very essence of real growth. If we fail to grow – to do the constant work of combatting the built-in resistant to change and ‘entropy’ of our existence – as time moves ever onwards we basically stop evolving – effectively, we fail to truly live.

We call ourselves Human Beings – but how much of our lives are we simply human’s ‘doing’, rather than truly BEING? This has, in my humble but nonetheless considerably long experience of negativity and dealing with pain and problems in life so far, been the biggest lesson I have learned. My only reason now for having a social media presence, be it Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, is to be an example of the change and beacon of the light that I believe is most needed in the world. I will only ever post things which I think serve this purpose.

I believe if humanity as a whole is to collectively grow beyond the selfishness of the prevailing ‘survival of the fittest’ mentality and truly evolve towards thriving, together, to enable our children and subsequent generations to inherit a world that nurtures and enriches life, rather than degrades and destroys it.

CONCLUSION: Social media is not ‘evil’, is is simply a reflection and extension of human nature.

“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.” — John Lennon

R. C. Greenlow [13.09.2019]

Edited: 18.09.2019

Part 1 of 2 What does being an advocate mean to you? According to the Merrian-Webster Dictionary, an advocate is “a person who publicly supports or recommends a particular cause or policy.” While I believe that to be true the way I live that definition has changed over the past seven months or so.

If I’m being honest, dear reader, how I advocated is a big reason for why I took time off from writing, guest lecturing, appearing on podcasts, and participating in research projects. Over the past five years, I was: regularly guest lecturing at different universities across the states, working on various articles, speaking to local networking groups, presenting at national and international conferences, appearing on any podcast that would have me on, and saying yes to every research project opportunity. I said yes because I believed the best way to advocate was to do the big things. Guest lecture to the next generation of speech language pathologists. Write, present, and podcast for all the world to read and hear. Volunteer for any project that helps us better understand stuttering. I did this because I wanted the next generation to know its ok to stutter. Yet, my constant yes came at a cost. After 5 years, I hit burnout and it impacted my mental health.

Not the burnout that’s featured on Instagram. I’m talking about the burnout that makes you hate and resent the things you once loved. Writing went from something I loved to something I wanted nothing to do with. Open word documents on my laptop gave me even more anxiety than I typically have because I felt the (self-imposed) pressure to create content. I dreaded leading support group meetings. Canceling guest lectures and speaking engagements became very tempting. Emails about research opportunities were instantly deleted. The resentment towards all the things I once loved led to guilt. I felt guilty for not working on a new article. I felt guilty for not participating in a research project. Instead of looking forward

to speaking engagements, I was looking forward to their ending. Between the constant guilt, heightened anxiety, and burnout, I started to wonder if this was all worth it. And honestly, I was tired of wearing the mask of being a public figure. Ironic huh? For so long I had worn a mask of being ok with the fact that I stutter. And now I was wearing a mask of being ok with talking about my stutter.  Through it all I felt like James the person was being lost to James the advocate. I wanted to go back to summer of 2017 where I was just James before I became James the advocate.  As a result of all this, I decided losing myself to advocacy wasn’t worth it and I was going to take an indefinite hiatus. I had no timeline on if or when I would get back into public advocacy. And if I’m being honest, I was ok with never getting back into it.

During my hiatus, I spent time on myself. I got back into my first hobby, reading, and rediscovered my joy for it. I somewhat lived out a dream and played in a fan made Survivor game. I went to networking events as me and not as someone looking for their next speaking engagement. I occasionally wrote because I wanted to and not because I felt that I had to. I learned to say no to speaking engagements. I worked on my mental health. I focused on setting boundaries for myself. Through it all, I spent time on reflecting how I can continue to be an advocate without losing myself to it. My new way of being an advocate can best be summarized by the Mother Theresa quote, “Do small things with great love.”

Allow me to explain. I’m still open to writing, podcasting, and speaking to different universities and organizations. In fact, my hiatus taught me that I actually enjoy those things; however, I didn’t enjoy how often I was doing those things. Now, I’m focusing on being an advocate in small ways. This can be something as simple as wearing a stuttering related t-shirt out in public. Or sharing a stuttering related post on social media. I’ve done these things for years, but always saw them as being an addition to the big stuff instead of being enough. Besides that, I’m focusing more on one-on-one connections within the stuttering community. Whether that is through my support group I’m in or mentoring other PWS. Letting them know that their voice is strong, good, beautiful, and worth being heard. Validating them and being a listening ear for them on their rough days. Or just being someone, they can talk to about whatever. I think sometimes doing many little things well is better than doing one big thing well.

Ultimately, my hiatus taught me that living my life to the fullest is the best way to be an advocate. I don’t need to write so many articles a year, say yes to every speaking engagement, wear only stuttering related clothes, or share every stuttering related post on social media

Part 2 of 2 . Those are great, but I can still be an advocate without doing any of that. A friend put it best when she said, “Advocacy is not another check on your to do list, you LIVE it.” So that’s what I’m going to do. Live a life that shows it’s ok to stutter. A life where stuttering is just one small part of my story and not my entire story. A life that is good, beautiful, and enough.

I went to my fibromyalgia specialist today and was told that my left thigh muscle is deteriorating and if that doesn’t stop I’ll end up in a wheelchair.

I had a pretty decent fall on Wednesday of this week and after the ambos got me up I couldn’t walk very well at all. After I got home I didn’t walk very far at all.

I decided to stay home from hospital (let’s face it they only toss you out at 3/4 in the morning and getting home is my problem) plus I wanted to see the specialist at my worst point to give him some idea of wat I’m dealing with.

Because I’m so stressed I’m going to fall my brain fog stuttering is out of control and people don’t understand me. My pain Is starting to also play up. So between all this Going on I’m lying in bed wishing my beautiful mum was here as dad struggles to understand what I’m going through.

I feel so alone right now just wishing mum was still here

So, had hard day. So much negativity towards me from my mom. I got up and took a walk with my sons girlfriend. I don’t need fucking negativity in my life. I don’t even watch the news because of it. I’m thinking about my childhood I don’t remember ever finding joy or having enthusiasm. I remember stuttering whenever my dad would raise his voice or yell. Later to find out that’s part of #AnxietyAttack . I remember to laying in bed at 5 afraid to go to sleep because I was afraid of dying or afraid my parents were going to die again #Anxiety . My whole life was abuse from 8-12 #SexualAbuse /#Incest . Later on met my X husband #EmotionalAbuse . I’m done venting #MajorDepressiveDisorder #PTSD #GeneralizedAnxietyDisorde

I don’t post on here much anymore. So, hi! But I just wanted to see if maybe anyone has a similar experience.

I’ve been dealing with headaches. Every day. For going on 2 months. I’m trying to get into the Neurologist, but the insurance is taking its time. It kinda started suddenly and harshly.

I’ve been in my bed for a good about of this time simply because of the imbearable amount of pain. I’ve now been on 5 prescriptions, and 4 shots, but nothing seems to be working. They keep saying it’s migraines. Ringing in my left ear. Running into walls. Almost falling. Cant walk straight. Cant hold conversation a lot of the time.

Pain is one thing that I understand I might just need to learn to somehowww deal with, but the rest of it? Lol. I have to come home and cry a lot because either I feel frustrated with myself that I can’t speak to my friends without just… stuttering and giving up… or coming home screaming and crying because I am in so much pain I feel if I’m around people I might hurt someone.. so.

It’s a lot. Plus, because of my headaches I’ve lost my job(s), and fun nights with friends. It’s ruling my life.

#Headaches #Migraine #help