I grew up a stutterer. This is a picture of my childhood friend Stephanie. I'll never forget watching her walk down the hall at school and wanting to call out to her, but I couldn't. I had to let her walk on. I cried because that day for whatever reason complex onsets just weren't happening. Next day it could be that 'n' wouldn't come, or perhaps 'b'. If it was a good day, I could order at a restaurant myself. Bad day? My parents had to order FOR me. How shameful is circumventing the word you want to say because you can't? Hating the telephone. Never trying out for theater. Only raising my hand in class 'if' it was a 'good syllable' day. All those thoughts unsaid.
Then why on earth become a professor? An interpreter? Talk about 'on stage'!
After years of therapy, I decided no more hiding. I was not gonna let my mouth be my prison.
So please: dump the shame now. Speak. For your SELF. No one else will.