Better understand the duel between stuttering and anxiety.
No two forces compete for dominance more than my stutter does with my anxiety. We’re talking a high-speed pong match that’s been laced with various antidepressants. The back and forth-ness results in a sad stalemate almost always at my expense. That’s my way of saying my anxiety makes me stutter more. Consequentially, the more I stutter, the more swallowed whole by the jaws of anxiety I become. Thoughts begin forming; I quickly start taking a mental inventory of all of the things I’ll never accomplish. From weekly agendas to grandiose career goals, everything begins to seem increasingly unattainable.
While I can’t say I’ve figured out how to achieve more of a dichotomy between the two, it’s something I’d like to consider more. At this point, I know both of them are in need of a lessened overlap. Game, set, and match. More to come on this, hopefully. I don’t know. Ping Pong can be pretty fun at times (therein lies the danger?).
Stop digging (and hiding) in self-made holes.
In my most recent tenure working in a classroom setting, both my relationships with fellow educators and my students have truly kicked off with a bang. And by bang, I mean a whimpered attempt at keeping my personality under wraps. There’s an innate part of me that has a difficult time ripping off the social band-aid so to speak. Instead, I embark into new environments hoping for a chance to re-invent myself a la an internalized “Princess Diaries” type go around.
But that begs the question, who even gets to see this so-called “before and after”? In new employment circumstances, I’m dealing with fresh faces already blind to my existence. This is not reinvention. This is concealment. This is self-destruction. And the worst part of it is, I’m not even giving people a chance to have a true opinion of me. In a way, I’m silencing their voices just as much as I am my own. I’d like to re-invent myself away from needing to re-invent. To be honest with you, that one is hard to explain. I guess I could’ve just said “be myself”, but I really believe there’s more to that credence. The point is, not every new beginning has to warrant old fears. Or a new me.
Prevent myself from living in other people’s minds.
Speaking of the current me, he’ll take flying, invisibility, morphing into a weasel or swine, over the opportunity to know what people think of his speech. As true now as it was in kindergarten, certain things are better left kept to one’s self. But you can’t have it both ways; at least, I don’t feel that I’m able to. There’s always been a very stark contrast in my brain. Between wanting to know what people think of my stutter, whilst protecting myself from what I assume will always be negative opinions. Let me tell you, handing out benefits of the doubt has never been a strength of mine. Just as I fear an average peer passes judgments on me, regretfully, I’ve been returning the favor. Many years have been spent believing the courtesy wouldn’t be reciprocated back my way.
However, what I’m starting to understand is that I can’t change anyone’s thoughts but my own. What I can control is who I share my voice with, and to which level I allow them to support me on my journey as a stutterer. As for the journey itself, that has to be made from within my own mind and no one else’s. And it has to start with practicing self-acceptance independent of any outside party. Sharing my voice with others, but retaining autonomous ownership of my identity.
And that’s it. There’s no definitive ending that I can come up with right now. I’m hoping that’s because it’s time for only positive beginnings. With that, all I can say is that I’m going to keep trying to do better.
Sincerely,
The Stuttering Artist