How my stutter improves my dating life

I was in my college boyfriend’s dorm room the first time I spoke openly about my stutter.

Though I had stuttered since learning to speak – my deficiencies with spoken language were so evident, my mother rushed me to the pediatrician before preschool even began – I was never comfortable confronting what everyone else could hear: the repetitions, the prolongations, the blocks that lasted so long it felt as though I was falling.

I was mortified to stutter and tried constantly to avoid it. I substituted words, made bizarre facial expressions – anything to prevent stuttering.

Dating seemed unfathomable to me. How could I establish a real relationship if I spent every moment afraid to speak?


When I met my varsity boyfriend, I was struck by his eloquence, his friendliness, his brains. But I fell in love with his patience. That’s how we ended up in his dorm room, schoolbooks stacked around us, and me – stuttering, crying – spilling insecurities generally reserved only for my journal.

While I spoke, he waited and listened, and I felt a surge of gratitude, as if I had found the one man sensitive enough to attempt to understand my speech disability.

Much later, after our lives headed down separate paths and we broke up, I would enter the complicated world of dating again – and find myself surprised. Turns out, my college boyfriend was not the only man who would overlook, or even embrace, my stutter. He was just one member of a much larger group of good-natured and compassionate people eager to connect.

I began to understand that my speech impediment, which had tortured me since childhood, was actually a useful tool in deciphering the quality of a person.

Did the guy at the library give a look of panicked discomfort after I openly stuttered? Did the man at the party ask for my name, only to mockingly joke, “W-w-w-w-what, did you forget it or something?” Though I left these interactions feeling flustered, my mind was full of clarity. I knew the kind of man I wanted to pursue. Judgmental, impatient types wouldn’t make the cut.

Those who do make the cut aren’t obvious saints – they’re mostly just patient, perceptive and curious. They aren’t afraid to ask straightforward questions: How long have you been stuttering? Are there treatments available? Is it difficult to deal with?

They maintain eye contact even when I’m taking time to get the words out and my eyes unintentionally seek the ceiling or the floor, searching for a way around a word. They don’t interrupt, guess my meaning or complete my sentences. They engage in conversation as if there’s nothing unique about our exchange, as if stuttering isn’t a problem to be fixed but simply another form of speaking.

The men who are patient with me don’t fit a particular profile. Over the years, I have found goodness in people I normally would have dismissed as romantic prospects, and for this, I thank my stutter completely. Sometimes they’re in the military, or Postal Service or stocking shelves at a liquor store. There’s even been a punk-rock musician, a gym rat, a hipster, a guy who worked at Lowe’s.

Once I do become romantically involved with someone and the relationship makes room for my disability, there’s an instant sense of transparency between us. Because my biggest insecurity is on full display every time I speak, the people I’ve dated begin to feel more vulnerable and more open about their own shortcomings.

I’ve had close friends begin relationships with men seemingly (and suspiciously) perfect, only to learn much later that their boyfriends are privately debilitated by something. That’s a situation I find foreign. Because my disability isn’t something I can suppress or camouflage on first dates, I characterise myself as honestly as I can – and those who take the time to know me often follow suit.

A few months into dating my college boyfriend, I began introducing myself as person who stutters. By the time a new semester began and the class went around the room for introductions, I said, rather nervously, “Hi, I’m R-R-R-R-R-Rachel, and I have a s-s-s-s-stutter. But don’t worry, I w-w-w-w-won’t make a big deal out of it if-if-if-if-if you don’t.”

It turned out that the editor of my college newspaper was in the room that day. After class, she asked whether she could run a feature on me in their next issue. When the article was published, the host of a popular stuttering podcast reached out and asked whether I would be a guest on her show. My college boyfriend lent me his laptop, hooked up a microphone and sat silently for an hour while the podcast was recorded. I could tell that he was wholly, and wildly, proud of me.

When it comes to dating, I certainly have no more luck than the average 20-something. But thanks to my stutter, finding a good match has become easier done than said.

And I’m starting to feel thankful for that.




This Might Be The Real Reason Why People Stutter

Stuttering is both common (more than 70 million people worldwide, and 3 million in the U.S., deal with it at some point) and an exceedingly frustrating experience: You absolutely know what you want to say, but can’t quite make it happen. Once thought to be an entirely psychological issue, as this new DNews video explains, researchers are beginning to understand more about the biological basis of stuttering.

In a new study, published in a recent issue of Human Brain Mapping, researchers looked at the brains of 62 participants. Of those, 26 had stuttering and 36 did not. The results of the study showed that, compared to those without stuttering, participants with stuttering had lower blood flow level in an area of the brain associated with language. And those with more severe stuttering showed an even greater reduction in blood flow in that area.

In particular, this area is involved in producing speech, which suggests that reduced blood flow here may cause or exacerbate a speech disorder like stuttering. To learn more about how this could cause stuttering — and why stuttering isn’t anything to ashamed of — check out the video below.

Science Brain

A Root Cause of Stuttering Is Being Pinpointed in the Brain

For decades and as recently as 1990, many medical professionals believed stuttering, an interruption in the flow of speech, was caused by some malfunction of the vocal tract, throat or tongue. One treatment even called for injecting botox into the tongue.

But as someone who has grappled with stuttering his whole life, Gerald Maguire had a hunch something more was going on — something in the brain.

“It was conjecture, really, that stuttering was a disorder of the mouth, the throat or tongue,” said Maguire, chair of psychiatry and neuroscience at UC Riverside in California. “People were just not looking at the brain.”


Now, thanks to advances in brain imaging, more and more research — including Maguire’s own — is proving that a dominant factor behind stuttering may indeed lie within the brain.

The latest research, published in the journal Human Brain Mapping, found that blood flow is reduced in the Broca’s area — the region in the frontal lobe of the brain linked to speech production — in people who stutter. More severe stuttering is associated with even greater reductions in blood flow to this region.

“Cerebral blood flow is tightly coupled to neural activity, specifically the frequency of firing of neurons,” co-author Jay Desai, a neurologist at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles explained to Seeker. “Our findings strongly suggest the presence of reduced neural activity in this Broca’s region in persons who stutter.”

Maguire has identified the same region of the brain as a factor in previous research, as well as deeper regions of the brain, including the basal ganglia region. He explains that in this region, located at the base of the forebrain, a kind of switch influences activity in the Broca’s region.

Other researchers, including Anne L. Foundas of Tulane University in New Orleans, are investigating whether specific brain regions that mediate speech, language and motor functions are asymmetric or larger in one hemisphere than the other in the brains of those who stutter.

The findings lend promise for new treatments for the genetically linked condition that affects more than 70 million people worldwide — or one percent of the global population. The hope is that by identifying what regions of the brain are at play, new therapies can be developed that help normalize neural activity related to speech.

So far no “cure” for stuttering has been found, but behavioral treatment options have proven to help people speak more fluidly. Desai explained that future treatments could range in form.

“Some ways of altering neural activity in localized brain regions such as Broca’s area, and thereby increasing blood flow, include the use of time-varying magnetic and electrical fields (e.g. transcranial magnetic stimulation), as well as various behavioral therapies and medications,” Desai said in an email.

Maguire, who is also chair of the board of directors of the National Stuttering Association, has been working on a new drug that targets dopamine, a neurotransmitter that helps control the brain’s reward and pleasure centers. The drug he and his colleagues are now testing, called ecopipam, targets dopamine receptors in the brain.

“We believe dopamine may be too high in certain areas of the brain,” Maguire explained. “Our thought at UCR is that by altering the dopamine levels we can affect brain activity. We’re looking now at receptors and modulating the receptors of dopamine in the hope of altering the brain’s activity.”

Ecopipam has already shown promising results in treating Tourette syndrome, another neurological condition. The drug is currently being tested in an FDA-approved clinical trial. Maguire, himself, is hopeful it may prove effective.

He should know — he’s been taking another drug that targets dopamine receptors for his stuttering.

As one could tell by his fluid speech, the therapy works well. And as someone who grew up with the condition — and the stigma it can create during childhood — Maguire appreciates what a difference good therapies can make.

“If we can develop targeted treatments and speech therapy targeting these regions of the brain, we hope to make a big difference in people’s lives — particularly in children,” he said.

Photo: King George VI suffered throughout life with a stuttering condition. This image is from “The King’s Speech,” a movie about the king.

WATCH: Could Neanderthals Talk Like Us?






When I was in second grade, I developed a stutter. I don’t know where it came from, or why it started, but, once it appeared, it was as though it had always been a part of my life. I couldn’t remember having ever not stuttered—even though my parents assured me that it was a very new phenomenon.

Stuttering is a curious condition. There is still no singular cause, and its severity can depend on countless variables: genes, social reactions, brain structure, and even the treatments adopted to alleviate it. Stuttering affected me throughout adolescence and into college. I still stutter, from time to time. Throughout my life, though, there have been two important outlets that have allowed me to cope and to create without speaking: music and writing. Recently, much to my delight, I discovered that the development of, and the allure to, these crafts were not without some precedent in the stuttering world.

David Mitchell, the famed author behind Cloud Atlas and other brilliantly original stories, has dealt with a stutter his entire life, too, and he attributes his writing acumen—at least in part—to that stutter. “The writer that I am has been shaped by the stammering kid that I was, and that although my stammer didn’t make me write, it did, in part, inform and influence the writer I became,” Mitchell said in an interview with the Paris Review. “It’s true that stammerers can become more adept at sentence construction. Synonyms aren’t always neatly interchangeable. Sometimes choosing word B over word A requires you to construct a different sentence to house it—and quickly, too, before your listener smells the stammering rat.”

I’ve been interchanging words (or at least attempting to) on the fly since I was 7, precisely so that I wouldn’t be discovered as that stammering rat. I never recognized this constant transposition as something that might actually benefit anything, though; it’s always been a habit derived from sheer terror. But then I read Mitchell’s depiction of his own childhood and found both courage and a powerful resonance in his words.

I’m not the literary icon that he is, of course, but through this piece, I also want to give hope to those stammerers who aspire to live life without fear, and also—neigh, especially—to those that dream of ridding themselves of the social barriers and the inner anguish it can foment. It’s very possible. You are not alone. And David Mitchell is far from the only person at the intersection of the arts and a stutter.

Alongside writing, my other primary outlet is music. I studied vocal performance in college and I’ve been singing my entire life—partly because I found that, for whatever reason, when a melody was adjoined to my words, my stutter disappeared. Neuroimaging has revealed various brain impairments that correlate to stuttering, one being relative deactivation in the left hemisphere auditory areas and frontal temporal region during speech. When we sing, though, we use the right side of our brain. And the sinuous qualities of song and the recitation from memory also help contribute to fluid communication—an anomaly in the life of a stutterer. So I sang, and so I sing.

I was particularly amused, then, when I read that the 1974 song “You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet” by Canadian rock group, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, featured a private stuttering joke. The track’s signature tag—”B-B-B-Baby, you just ain’t seen n-n-n-nothin’ yet”—was an homage from Randy Bachman to his brother Gary, who struggled with a stammer. The record company preferred the stuttering take to the original and released it as such. That sputter would go on to become the hallmark of the song.

After reading the BTO anecdote, I looked to see if there were other celebrity-related stammering instances and I was shocked at what I found. There exists a multitude of famous stutterers! Samuel L. Jackson. Emily Blunt. James Earl Jones. B.B. King. Marilyn Monroe. Elvis Presley. Kendrick Lamar. Nicole Kidman. Bruce Willis. And there are many, many others. Stuttering, to degrees that vary from barely perceptible to completely debilitating, affects an estimated 70 million people in the world, and celebrities are not excluded from that population. I have newfound reverence for all of these artists. Coping with a stutter on your own is hard enough; to do it with the world watching takes some real goddamn courage.

This courage, the indomitability of those that dared challenge their impediment, was the inspiration for this piece. For almost my entire life, if you had given me one wish, it would have been to rid myself of my stutter. Middle school, as you can imagine, is not a nice place for a stutterer. And the fear of speaking, reamed into us from bullies and the apparent ease of speech for non-stutterers, only exacerbates its effects. For the stutterer in these situations, to speak is to be a fish out of water. It constricts. It overwhelms. And after it happens, the fear that it could happen again lingers always.

My stutter, though much improved, remains a haunting memory of the terror and embarrassment I experienced growing up. As of this writing, I have spoken openly about it to exactly two people outside of my family, and both instances have come within the last year. Today, though, as I begin my 28th year of life (shameless birthday plug), I am thankful for my stutter, and I am appreciative of the fact that sometimes we cannot see what is best for us. For me, stuttering necessitated a lifelong workaround, and so it shed light on the joys of music, and it unveiled the richness of the written word, and it attracted me to the breathing techniques of meditation. Today, music, writing, and meditation are three things that define who I am, and I don’t believe I would regard them with the same fervency that I do if not for my stutter.

So, to all the stutterers and the similarly afflicted: sing, write, teach, joke, act, dream, and showthe world why it ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You are not alone. In fact, you are in very good company indeed.




Speechless: A life no longer controlled by stuttering

Gabriel Niculescu never thought he would be able to control his stutter. He had developed it at age four after being traumatized by a large earthquake and as he grew developed coping mechanisms to help mask his stutter from others. “My speaking with a stutter seems to have affected so many things in my life, from the activities I was involved in, to the career path I chose,” he says. “I had been thinking on and off for about 10 years to try to get some help to improve my fluency. Some things I read online made me kind of depressed that there wasn’t really much that could be done for adult stutterers.”

Niculescu’s experience is not unusual. Many adult stutterers are not aware there are treatment options available. While speech therapy is common for children its availability becomes lesser as people age. Also, stuttering is rarely adequately treated at any age.

“The majority of speech pathologists aren’t experts in stuttering,” says Michael Blomgren, Ph.D., Professor and Chair of the Department of Communication Sciences and Disorders at the University of Utah. “Some of them will never work with someone who stutters.”

Improving speech

Blomgren heads up an intensive two-week clinic aimed at helping adults who stutter. For the past 16 years, the clinic has taught people from all over the world how to improve their speech and accept their stutter. “About two years ago, I met a former clinician that had worked at the clinic,” says Niculescu. “She told me that if I could commit to going to the two-week intensive stuttering clinic and then commit to practicing about 30 minutes every day after that, she was confident I could achieve a high degree of fluency.”

The clinic does not cure stuttering, but rather helps those who stutter improve their speech through a series of exercises. The primary technique taught is called prolonged speech. It involves having the stutterer slow down their speaking rate, examine each mechanism of speech, and slowly increase the speed as they improve speech fluency. “When people who stutter slow down their rate of speech they stutter less,” says Blomgren. “They are more able to control their speech. But it takes a lot of practice.”

Finding acceptance

Another important part of the clinic is helping stutterers accept their stutter as many of them try to hide it. Niculescu admits it is something he did in the past. “Over the years, I discovered that the more and the longer sentences I spoke, the more I seemed to stutter. So I became a master of one-liners,” he says. “My one-liners became a way for me to get across information that I needed to give and to also sprinkle in some humor that could diffuse possible tension that arose from me not being able to speak like most other people.”


Blomgren says the clinic teaches stutterers to “advertise” their stutters instead. This involves talking openly about stuttering with family, friends and co-workers and disclosing the stutter early in a conversation with a stranger. “We teach not to be scared of the stutter so you are not spending all that time trying to hide it,” he says.

Making that shift from hiding to advertising has been key for Niculescu in continuing his progress. “I see stuttering moments now as opportunities to test out my newfound skills and see them as opportunities to learn and get better at being more fluent,” he says. “I would say my stuttering has reduced by about 80 percent.”

Life changing results

The results of the stuttering clinic are life changing for most. Blomgren says many of those coming to the clinic are doing so for reasons related to their career, like Niculescu. “Although I initially picked a career in computers because I had hoped that I would never have to speak (and stutter) with a computer, over the years I learned that a good portion of my job entails communicating with actual people,” Niculescu says. “Whether on the phone with vendors, in conference room meetings, in training situations or just collaborating with my boss or coworkers, I had to talk more than I was comfortable doing. I saw my participation in the intensive stuttering clinic as an investment in myself, no different from other continuing education or self-improvement type activities that most of us have to do over the years to remain competitive in the job market.”

“The biggest benefit I have felt has been a huge increase in my self-confidence,” says Niculescu. “I feel so much more empowered knowing that it is within me to continue to practice and gain more control over a thing that seemingly used to control me.”




Stuttering – An Action, Not an Attribute

Attribute – a quality or feature regarded as a characteristic or inherent part of someone or something, a material object recognized as symbolic of a person.

I have heard people in the stuttering community refer to stuttering as an attribute. Though there are many who may not agree with me, I feel uncomfortable with looking at stuttering in this way. Stuttering is not a quality or an object. It is an action: the way that a person produces speech. Since the system that produces speech is dynamic and given to change from minute to minute, situation to situation, and from time to time in one’s life, holding on to stuttering as an attribute does not allow for the normal flow of change. Stuttering becomes a description of who I am, not something I may or may not do.

Many people have accepted that stuttering is part of who they are and do not want to try to change it. This attitude has its benefit, because trying not to stutter leads to more stuttering, frustration, and anxiety. However, if we can get away from the stuttering/fluency perspective and realize that stuttering refers to the way the brain functions when speaking, there is no trying not to stutter. Instead, changing the way you create speech becomes a normal and natural part of life.

Today we know that there is brain plasticity. Thoughts change; attitudes change; perspective changes; neuro-motor processes can become hardwired or be replaced by others. This means that the act of speaking can become a new and different communication experience.

Most people who go to therapy try to replace the attribute of stuttering with the attribute of fluency. When they do not succeed, they give up. I suggest that we stop focusing on attributes, and realize that we are all dynamic beings who are always in a process of change. This paradigm will give people who stutter the freedom to grow, change and speak freely.


Be Sociable, Share!

Fighting A Voice. A Battle to Overcome Stuttering


Find your voice. Fight for your voice. It’s a common theme to motivate and inspire. For me and 70 million people worldwide, it’s the exact opposite. We fight our voice every day.

Each stutterer is unique. I tend to be self-deprecating on the bridge words my brain has picked. 33-year old guy living in Alabama? How about ‘like’ with a side of ‘and stuff.’ Hey, I always wanted to sound like the stereotype of a valley girl. I appreciate the twisted sense of humor my mind possesses.

For the millions out there who stutter, the story below may align with yours or be vastly different. What we have in common is a fluency disorder that isn’t altogether uncommon but can rule over you if you let it. My story is a mixture of letting it dictate my actions and then deciding it wouldn’t.

The motivation you’re looking for isn’t in the quote on the poster. It’s the story of where you were, where you are and where you’re going.

Growing Up Stuttering

My first memory of realizing I was different was speech therapy at a DOD-run school at the Naval Air Station Keflavik in the late 80s. Fast forward to more speech therapy in Wilmington, NC. For me, the efficacy was muddled. Sure, I can slow down and prolong my speech pattern, but I was just as likely to earn strange looks slowly talking over a blocking stutter.

Try telling an eight-year-old he needs to slow down when talking. Slowing down is a relative term at that age. When my family moved to Adak, AK, I skipped a couple of years of the speech therapists. Google map the area. It defines middle of nowhere.

Another DOD-run school and in my mind, everything was great, or I was too young to care. It helped I completely absorbed myself in books. The Accelerated Reader contest hadn’t met a person like me.

While I couldn’t string together sentences, I could read faster than anyone I knew. It drove teachers nuts all the way through college that I could absorb information faster than anyone they had ever met.

My journey through stuttering

A Stuttering Realization

While aware I couldn’t say my name without it coming out M-M-M-M-Marcus, it didn’t hit me until middle school and moving to Chesapeake, VA. It’s one thing living on an island with a population of less than 4,000. It’s a different feeling when your school eclipses the population of your former home.

It’s here I felt the first taste of the mocking. Stuttering is an easy target for bullies. Not the vilest or most mean-spirited, but incredibly easy for someone to mock. The grins when you stumble, people telling you to slow down, spit it out, etc. It’s an endless list. Some are funny in retrospect. Others? Even the most ‘let it roll off your back’ person would cringe recalling the comments.

I couldn’t say my name, and for whatever reason, teachers have a weird obsession with everyone introducing themselves each year.

More speech therapy and my first introduction to choral speech. The ability to bridge off someone else talking. Teaching myself to control my voice or alter the pitch. The discovery of if I said a curse word, I’d instantly stop stuttering. Not helpful in late to early high school around your parents, but interesting. It’s a damn shame I can’t be a walking Samuel L. Jackson movie.

As a freshman, I switched schools for a final time to Gadsden, AL. No more speech therapists. I could handle a K-12 school to polish off high school. And I did. Sure, I stuttered. Speech class? That was a special kind of hell until the I explained to the teacher that unless you let me move around, we’ll be here all day.

Stuttering Dictates My Actions

College is the spot I can point to where it controlled multiple facets of my life. Need to set an appointment via the phone? Ask my parents or beg Alex. Drive-thru restaurants? I’m a dietitian’s dream on that front. Put me in front of the drive-thru box today and I can’t do it.

My major? Political Science. Not exactly the brightest idea for a stutterer, but I loved the subject. Put me in front of people I didn’t know and I’d debate with complete fluency. Yeah, I’m that type of stutterer. Most stutterers hate situations where they are meeting new faces.

I hate structure. Box me in and you limit my conversation paths to avoid syllables or words I knew I would trip over. But free-flowing discussion classes? Turn me loose.

The only problem is that the world doesn’t operate without structure. While I could talk my way through classes with no issues, the end of the road was coming. What do I do about a job? Could I actually be a lawyer? I still cannot to this day watch the public defender scene in My Cousin Vinny.

Those free-flowing days of talking were gone, replaced with determination to find a crutch. I quickly convinced my parents to buy the SpeechEasy device. Choral speech on the go? Sounds great and works until you’re at a party. The technology is sound, but practical applications are sorely lacking.


What’s one area that instantly scares the hell out of stutterer? Being thrown into a situation of intense anxiety.

My brilliant idea? Marine Corps Officer Candidate School. Shockingly, it was here that brought out the ability for me to laugh at the impediment. It also helped I was a bit over six feet tall and weighed 120 pounds. They had other options to try and get under my skin.

I look at those weeks as the reason I can laugh and joke about my own stuttering. Sure, an injury cost me a chance at graduating, but I still took home a new sense of self. If I could do that, surely I could handle anything else.

Acceptance Then Drug Therapy

But, it’s like anything in life. If it were meant to be easy, this wouldn’t be typed out. I came home still in school and was stuck stuttering. And we are our own worst critics. I can pick each word I stutter on in real-time.

The choral speech device wasn’t working, so I went to the health clinic armed with rather suspect research. It’s actually shocking they let me try the medications I tried. Haldol was one. Took it exactly one time and thought I was going to die in my car. Buspar had zero effect.

A glance through job ads showed everything I wanted except one requirement I took too literal. Excellent communication skills. Those who stutter know the feeling of dread when you see that line. So, I took the easy path and stayed behind a keyboard through marketing and copywriting jobs.

Do I regret that? No. What’s to regret? Who knows how things shake out if you choose one path or another? I didn’t like the situation, so I changed it. And I’m sure I’ll change it again.

My first step was accepting I stuttered. You can’t paper over something with therapy, prescription drugs, etc. without accepting your reality. It took two decades worth of speech therapy, the SpeechEasy, OCS and countless days and nights spent being beyond the pale of critical of myself to finally realize I stutter. Get used to it.

Next was lucking into the Pagoclone study. Though it never emerged from clinical trials, it gave me the hope you need paired with acceptance. There was a way to beat back stuttering. I enjoyed a year of near total fluency. Reading aloud? Done. Phone calls? Zero issues. Even you Comcast. Drive-thrus? Those damn things are evil and should be abolished.

Can’t have everything in life and I think the stuttering diet book would be a hit.

Though the drug was shelved, I understood the mechanism of how pagoclone worked and could find a close approximation. Believe it or not, the closest was Ambien. Seeing as I’m not the 18-hours of sleep per day type, that was out. It took a few months of talking with a psychiatrist and a cognitive behavioral therapist to settle on low dose Klonopin.

No, I’m not advocating low doses of scheduled drugs for stuttering. I go out of my way to have it monitored by professionals, and each person will respond differently. I’ll just never dismiss people out of hand who rely on prescription drugs to help live their life.

Stuttering at its core will create anxiety. Your mind kicks into overdrive and before you realize it, you are suffering through chronic blocks, or saying ‘like’ a thousand times a day. Neither option was for me, and I already knew I responded well to drug therapies.

Smartly mixing prescription drugs, accepting the fact I stutter and pushing out of my comfort zone represent the right balance of pushing back against something that needlessly held me back. There are plenty of people who have no clue idea how much they’ve helped. Even through this website. The Revl team probably has no clue I stutter. The marketing people behind Starry Routers. The guys at Chartbeat. Nikon. Adam at DJI. Countless others and as Alex and I grow the site; the list will get longer.

Most of all? My family and friends. No one can conquer every mountain alone. No matter how stubborn you are. It’s ridiculous to think you can. And it certainly doesn’t make you less of a person to ask for help.

My story of stuttering is one that doesn’t end. Is what I’m doing the cure? Absolutely not.

Nothing will suddenly cure my stuttering. I’ll have bad days and stumble. We all do. And that’s fine. I spent two decades afraid of my voice. Now? Stuttering can’t beat me because it is me. I happily wake up ready to fight my voice each day.