I’m a nearly 26-year-old stutterer who used to be able to meet people. What the hell happened?
Well, the four years I spent pursuing a theatre degree were some of the easiest, socially. Starting college was the equivalent of being plopped into a community of fellow anxiety-ridden artists ( aka most of us). So, in an unexpectedly quick turnaround, I found myself flourishing in a system constructed with human interaction in mind. From weekday rehearsals to weekend ragers, opportunities for connection were a signup sheet or an inquiry away. Everything that I partook in, no matter the time of day, involved the same recurring group of people.
It’s true that even the deepest of my formed friendships were initial products of mandatory exposure. They blossomed all the same, and I still cherish them fondly. However, it’s fair to acknowledge that this collegiate environment catered greatly to their development.
Such a socially tailored environment was this stutterer’s saving grace. But what happened once those four years appeared as a distant blur in my mom’s (I didn’t drive yet..) rear-view mirror? In the end, did my learned attachment to this way of life evolve or regress me when it came to my interpersonal prowess?
Post-graduation, I continued haplessly waiting for emails from professors regarding upcoming audition material. The only social interactions I took part in involved driving a few hours to meet my school chums. Some of them still went to school, which gave me an excuse to relive, or, I guess mourn the era that had passed. But these visits now existed as occasional treats, as they tend to become once post-school responsibilities start creeping up. Reality seemed locked at a standstill, and there was no moving forward. No feasible way to turn back time, but a glaring inability to tune my sights to the present.
Forming was an aversion to living an independent, but still socially relevant lifestyle. Instead, I entered a daily cycle of desiring new connections, while feeling a gnawing hesitancy to pursue them. A headache of a lifestyle, that, four years out I still find myself clambering to break from.
For as much as I loved school, it kind of inadvertently screwed me over. Because here I am, a little wiser, a little more emotionally mature, but scared. More scared, that is, to share myself with any fresh face.
I think it’s because now, I actually have to make the choice to do so. Which begs the question, why haven’t I?
For one, my stutter continues to play a familiar role. Without the mediation of a comfortable social system plainly laid out for me, talking feels significantly harder. In a lot of ways, it feels like I’m starting from scratch when it comes to molding friendships.
There’s a part of me that thinks “I’ve already worked to educate people on my stutter. Why should I have to keep doing so? And besides, aren’t I just setting myself up for reject…ding, ding, ding, ding!! There! Therein lies the problem! I think the exclamation points and current bold font make that much obvious!
This social conundrum I’m facing is really a crisis of faith. In other words, I have little faith in the empathetic capacities of the average person. And that’s coming from somebody who has never been isolated from human connection. I’m no Grinch; I don’t live on a hill looking down on people and plotting hateful avoidance strategies. My life has been filled with companionship, and my exceptionally positive college experience should be taken as evidence of my social worth. That’s how I know this is all a matter of doubt. Of doubt and accompanying negativity.
The lesson here is that it’s highly unfair of me to blame past renditions of myself for these current plights. Maybe the high points of my life are supposed to teach me something. Or, at least, motivate me to seek out new connections. Instead, I’m using them to remind me of what I once had, rather than looking at the possibilities of what’s still waiting out there in the world.
Maybe my college days are just that: a series of events that now live in the past.
Whatever I choose to believe, it’s up to me to put myself out there.
Once more, and this time, without the influence of college.