The psychological impact of stuttering has been the most challenging aspect for me, overshadowing the physical difficulties. I vividly recall my first day in 3rd grade at a new school, midway through the year. Walking into a room full of strangers, I fidgeted nervously, avoiding eye contact. Sitting in the far corner, I reassured myself, but that confidence was short-lived.

 

When asked to introduce myself, panic set in. My heart raced, my palms sweated, and the room blurred. Standing up, all I managed to stutter out was "M-m-m-m...". My failed attempts and the ensuing laughter from classmates left me in tears, wishing I could disappear.

 

Now 25, that memory still haunts me, not because of the stuttered words or my fist hitting my thigh, but due to the intense feelings of guilt, nervousness, hopelessness, loneliness, shame, and anger it evoked.

 

However, my story, like many, has a brighter ending. I learned that people are generally kinder and more understanding than we assume. The issue lies in a lack of awareness about stuttering and its psychological effects. Taking responsibility to educate others, I bravely presented to my class about stuttering, explaining how it affected me. This act of vulnerability was transformative.

 

Today, I still stutter and sometimes fear speaking in certain situations, but the difference is my self-love and acceptance. I've embraced my identity as a proud person who stutters (PWS), finding strength in my journey.

 

Last year, after turning 21, I unexpectedly developed a stutter. It began abruptly, and I initially thought I was just tripping over my words, but it persisted. My doctor was surprised, and the local hospital even suspected a stroke, as I had never stuttered before.

 

Numerous tests led to a neurologist who found no brain anomalies to explain the stutter and expressed optimism for its resolution. However, the medical support I received was limited, as my stutter had no apparent injury-related cause. This led to a challenging year out of work, filled with emotional turmoil—tears, shock, confusion, and isolation. But, as the saying goes, "Alhamdulillah," I've come to accept that stuttering doesn't define my worth.

 

Some days I feel like my pre-stutter self, while other days are more difficult. Yet, this has become a part of who I am, and that's okay. I haven't joined any support groups or met others who stutter, but Stutter UAE's online presence has been a lifeline in my darkest times, reminding me I'm not alone and that I can live my life without shame.

 

As a teaching assistant, I have days when speaking is especially tough, but I strive to stay strong and confident for my students. I dream of visiting the UAE to witness the incredible support for people who stutter.

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I hope my story offers hope and reminds others that you're never truly alone, even when it feels like it. Life is unpredictable, and sometimes our greatest challenges become unexpected blessings.

 

I often reflect on this verse from the Quran:

 “رَبِّ اشْرَحْ لِي صَدْرِي وَيَسِّرْ لِي أَمْرِي وَاحْلُلْ عُقْدَةً مِّن لِّسَانِي يَفْقَهُوا قَوْلِي”

 

 “My Lord, lift up my heart, and ease my task for me, untie my tongue, so that they may understand my words” (Quran, 20:25-28) – a reminder of faith and resilience in the face of adversity.

 

From grade 3 onwards, I've navigated life with a stutter, along with the varied emotions and reactions it elicits. Growing up, I was often fearful of public speaking and faced misunderstanding and accusations of faking it for attention, even from my family. Bullying and ridicule from peers were constant challenges.

 

However, as time passed, I've grown in strength and understanding. Now a university student, I've embraced my stutter as something special, refusing to let others' opinions shake my self-confidence. I've learned to love myself and not fear speaking publicly.

 

My message to others facing similar struggles is simple: Don't be intimidated or swayed by others' words or mockery. Stand up for yourself, speak out, be brave, and confident, and love yourself more. Never allow anyone to belittle you. You are unique and capable.

 

I urge the world to shift its perspective on stuttering. It's not a subject for mockery; it could stem from childhood experiences or genetics. We must treat individuals who stutter with kindness, patience, and understanding, without correcting or completing their words for them.

 

We need a world with less bullying and more compassion, where every voice, no matter how it sounds, is heard and respected. This change starts with us, in how we treat and support each other, especially those who stutter.

 

My earliest memory of stuttering dates to when I was around 8 years old, struggling with words, especially at the start of a conversation or when responding to someone.

 

Reflecting on my journey, I realize the importance of educating parents and teachers about interacting with children who stutter. Early understanding and intervention are crucial in mitigating the long-term impact of stuttering on a child's life.

 

For a long time, I grappled with questions like, "Why do I speak this way?" "Why can't I talk like others?" I didn't even know the term for my condition. The day I discovered it was called stuttering marked a turning point; it was as if a weight had been lifted. Learning that I wasn't alone and that many others spoke like me, was liberating. Diving into research, I gradually learned to manage and control my stuttering, shifting my perspective entirely.

 

If I could speak to my younger self, I would say, "Forgive me for being so hard on you."

 

We need to foster a world that understands speech isn't effortless for everyone. Encouraging awareness and knowledge about stuttering helps recognize the diverse ways in which people communicate.

 

A phrase that resonates with me is, "If you stutter, you're in good company." Knowing that even celebrities who stutter have overcome their challenges gives hope and strength. If they can triumph over what once seemed an insurmountable hurdle, so can anyone else. This realization brings comfort and a sense of belonging to a wider, understanding community.

 

Since my earliest memories, I've known myself as someone who stutters. I realized at around 5 that my speech was different.

 

I believe in focusing more on the psychological aspects of stuttering. Techniques alone aren't as effective without self-awareness and acceptance. We need more open discussions about stuttering to truly understand it.

 

In 2010, I first spoke publicly about my stutter, and by 2020, I embraced it fully, even discussing it on national TV. The moment I stopped concealing my stutter and began to take pride in it, my life transformed.

 

My advice is to be confident and not worry. Allah has great plans for you. Embracing your stutter and taking pride in it makes life easier.

 

I say with conviction, "I stutter, so what?"

 

To me, stuttering isn't a disorder or disability; it's a partner in my life's journey. If I try to hide it, it becomes more pronounced at inopportune moments. If I cooperate with it, it recedes when I fear it most. I take pride in my stutter; it's important to push through the challenges because what I have to say matters.

 

Stuttering has made me more empathetic and humane, and I've developed other skills to express myself and demonstrate my value. Even if I had the chance to achieve 100% fluency, I wouldn't take it. Stuttering is a part of who I am. Like I said, "I stutter, so what!?"

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In a world where speech is paramount - at home, school, work, and social gatherings - my experience with communication is profoundly different. Since first grade, I have lived with a stutter, a challenge not in finding words, but in expressing them. As a child, I never received therapy, and my peers often mocked my stutter, imitating my repetitions, and leaving me feeling hurt and out of control.

 

Throughout my life, I've attempted to hide or overcome my stutter, mostly in vain. It has significantly influenced my life choices, leading me to avoid or withdraw from situations requiring speech, such as phone calls, classroom interactions, job interviews, and social gatherings. This difficulty in speaking clearly also made friendships challenging and left me defenseless against teasing and bullying.

 

I liken my struggle to a train carrying messages from the brain to the mouth. In my case, it feels like this train is weighed down by stones, hindering smooth communication and leading to broken pressured speech. This struggle often results in me running out of breath, pretending to forget my words, or avoiding speaking situations altogether.

 

Seeking to understand and manage my stutter, I delved into articles and books, eventually realizing the necessity of professional help. This led me to a 7-week speech therapy program in Edmonton, Canada, where I learned to control my speech more effectively and deal with stuttering. The therapy brought improvement and confidence, though I still struggle, especially under emotional stress.

 

My journey with stuttering isn't just about fluency but overcoming fear and shame and growing stronger. I believe my stuttering has a purpose and that I will eventually find its reward. I've learned that stuttering is only a handicap if I allow it to be. With good and bad days, my belief in myself grows. This is my journey, my body, and I refuse to give up.

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