How embracing my stammer helped me to fulfil my dreams

BSc Speech and Language Therapy and MSc Neuroimaging for Clinical and Cognitive Neuroscience graduate Richard Stephens has been on a lifelong journey figuring out how to live with his stammer. Through therapy and life-changing moments, Richard has found the answer and now seeks to pass that message on to others. Here, he explains the difficulties he had growing up, and how he now helps those who find themselves in a similar position.

Growing up

Having a stammer is so much more than just the disfluency of speech that the listener will often witness (such as repetitions, prolongations, and blocks). Disfluency is often the tip of the iceberg of stammering, and yet what is not seen (the body of the iceberg) are a number of psychosocial effects of stammering that the listener and general society are not aware of.

For me, for example, my stammering below sea-level iceberg body consisted of embarrassment, shame, loneliness and isolation, social anxiety, the fear of speaking in public, and many more.

Almost all of those psychosocial effects, gained from any early age in childhood, were in response to believing I was the only person in the world who stammered. I was surrounded by a world of fluent speakers in every environment, every film/TV show, classroom, neighbourhood and book that I was exposed to. All I longed for was to hear another voice like mine, and to know that there were others like me who knew exactly what they wanted to say, but sometimes just took longer to say it.

But navigating stammering as a child, teenager, young adult was difficult at the best of times. When I finally started to meet other people who stammer in my early 30s, I discovered that we all had similar experiences as children, such as fearing speaking on the phone, presenting at school, and ordering food. What struck me most was that almost every person I’ve ever met who stammers had difficulty saying their name. Something that most fluent speakers take for granted becomes something entirely different for most people who stammer.

I hated my name. If I could have changed it I would have done so in a heartbeat. Other times when I had to speak, or presumed I would speak, I could usually get around it. But when you’re asked your name, there’s nowhere to escape to, just the dreaded spotlight of discomfort and anguish wishing that your name will leave your mouth as quickly and painlessly as possible.

What followed in my childhood and into my early adulthood was a number of negative experiences towards my stammer – including being laughed at, ridiculed, ignored and spoken over simply because it took me longer to say the words I wanted to say. I believed that to fit into the world, I had to alter who I was and how I spoke, which all led to living for many years as a covert stammerer – hiding my stammer at all costs.

As my stammer was not as strong in adulthood as it was in my childhood, I was able to get by unidentified as a person who stammers, simply by avoiding/changing words, avoiding speaking situations, and using every trick available to sound more fluent. My relationship with my stammer was at an all-time low, Most painfully, I felt like an impostor to my family, friends, work colleagues, and myself.

I always had the dream of working to support other children and adults who stammer, and yet that dream always seemed to belong to someone else. I knew something had to change, and change soon… I just didn’t know what and how!

Therapy

I’ve wanted to be a speech and language therapist since I was 11, to help other children and adults who stammer. This dream stemmed from the therapy I received, specifically my experiences with my therapist who also stammered – the only person I met who stammered up until my early 30s.

Most of our sessions would be spent discussing our individual experiences of stammering, gaining a better understanding of the causes and effects of stammering, ways to reduce anxiety in social situations, and learning to be more confident in using my voice. My therapist helped to show me that having a stammer was not the problem, it was how it was embraced and that a positive relationship with it would help to lead to a life of acceptance within – not of stammering as a whole, but more of myself as a person who stammers.

Due to funding issues, my therapy stopped, and with no further support and contact with another person who stammered until many years after, I quickly returned to a negative headspace around my stammer and the dive into covert stammering.

Life changer

The most pivotal moment in my life came during an army nurse officer job interview when I was 32. On day 3 of a 4-day interview, I had to give a presentation, and I stammered like I hadn’t done for many years. I simply walked out of the presentation, angry and upset, and left the interview process immediately to return home.

During the drive home, I knew I had to fully address my relationship with my stammer. I had had enough of being a person that was not fully me. As soon as I returned home I contacted the Manchester British Stammering Support Group.

The first meeting I attended was incredible. It was the first time since my SLT that I had met anyone else who stammered. One member was an SLT and researcher who stammered. We became great friends and spent many hours talking about our own journeys. The support I received from the group to be me, stammer and follow my dream of being an SLT, was the start of all the good times that were about to come my way.

Time to take action

With my new-found confidence and improving relationship with my stammer, I took the next big step and applied and was accepted onto the BSc Speech and Language Therapy course at Manchester.

The thought of sharing part of my journey within a stammering support group was one thing, but having to do so with the teaching staff on the BSc was another anxiety-inducing exposure entirely. Although I had shared on my application/interview that I had a stammer, I was still unsure how it would translate into being on the course and interactions with the entire academic staff. I had no idea what to expect, and was ready for some pushback of any kind regarding wanting to be a SLT with a stammer.

Any anxiety I had was immediately dispelled by a truly wonderful, caring and supportive academic and teaching team. There was simply no drama whatsoever. I felt that I was seen, heard, and supported throughout the course; the fact that I stammered never came up once.

During my summer periods off from the course, I became involved with a non-for-profit organisation in America called the Stuttering Association for the Young (SAY). I was looking to spend my summer supporting kids and teens who stammer in a way that was more about supporting the psychosocial effects of stuttering.

I volunteered as a bunk counsellor during my first year at their two-week summer camp, Camp SAY, and found a truly magical space where every camper and staff was seen, heard and loved for their authentic selves, and where every voice mattered. It was like a home away from home, and where I heard for the first time the sentence that not only changed my world, but also inspires all of the work that I do today: ‘It’s really, really, really ok to stutter!’.

I returned to Camp SAY during every summer-off period throughout the BSc, becoming part of the leadership staff and helping out with a few other SAY programmes in the US. Halfway through the BSc, I decided to pursue a career in research to study the causes and maintenance of stammering, and at every stage in the process the course leads and lecturers at The University of Manchester supported me unconditionally.

My wings were never clipped, and I cannot thank the University of Manchester team enough for going above and beyond to help support me at every turn. After graduating with first class honours in speech and language therapy, I continued at Manchester to study an MSc in Neuroimaging for Clinical and Cognitive Neuroscience, with the aim to continue my research interests at PhD level at Vanderbilt University in America.

However, a true sliding doors moment occurred, and one that was beyond any dream I had ever had. I was accepted onto the PhD at Vanderbilt and MSU in America, whilst at the same time being offered the opportunity to take SAY over to Australia and help create a SAY community in a country that did not have one, and that had nothing for young people who stammer aside from fluency therapy.

And that is where I am today, in Melbourne, Australia, leading SAY: AU as the President, Programming Director of our year round creative/performing arts programmes in-person and online, and Camp Director at Camp SAY: AU – the first ever summer camp in Australia dedicated to kids and teens who stutter.

From not knowing anybody else who stammered and truly fearing what my future was going to be, I am now fully involved in a huge global stammering community. I know thousands of people who stutter, and have the unique and humbling opportunity to bring something to kids and teens who stutter that I wished I had as a child – a space to meet other kids and teens who sound just like them and in a space where they are always seen, heard and loved for their true authentic selves, and all while being free to stammer.

Looking forward

My experiences, opportunities, and current journey in life has far exceeded my dreams. My future is full of fantastic opportunities with dreams being turned into reality, and all due to fully embracing my identity as a person who stammers.

My advice for anyone wishing to pursue their dreams is simple. The only barriers that stop our dreams from becoming a reality are the ones we place on ourselves. The journey may be a struggle at times, but it is one well worth enduring. One of my favourite quotes is by Walt Disney, who famously said: ‘All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.’

Be brave, be courageous, be bold and, most importantly, always be you, and one day your dreams will come true too!

Learn more about studying speech and language therapy at Manchester.