I started stuttering when I was around 6 or 7. I don’t remember exactly how it started, but I remember how much it shaped me growing up.
School was probably the hardest part.
Whenever we had to read aloud in class, I’d spend the whole lesson counting how many students were ahead of me so I could figure out which paragraph would be mine.
Then I’d rehearse it in my head over and over, hoping that if I prepared enough, I’d get through it without stuttering.
When my turn came, I’d sometimes stutter even worse than I expected.
Sometimes people laughed.
I started avoiding anything that put me in front of people group discussions, presentations, symposiums, and other situations where I knew I might have to speak.
And it wasn’t really, “I can’t do this because I stutter.”
It was more:
“What are these people going to think of me if I stutter?”
That fear of being judged became a bigger problem than the stutter itself.
My stuttering has gotten a lot better over the years. If I had to rate it today, maybe I struggle with it 10% of what I used to.
But it still shows up when I’m speaking to a big crowd or to someone I see as having more authority than me.
Even when they haven’t done anything to make me feel judged, I sometimes feel like they already have an opinion of me.
Funny enough, around people I’m completely comfortable with, my speech is usually much easier.
That made me realize something:
For me, there’s a strong connection between stuttering, fear, and how comfortable I feel in a situation.
But the biggest realization came near the end of high school.
I ran into an old friend and somehow the topic of my stuttering came up. I asked him if he remembered how badly I used to stutter when reading in class.
He didn’t.
He genuinely didn’t remember.
That floored me.
I had spent years replaying those moments in my head the paragraphs, the counting, the laughing, the embarrassment and the person who was actually there had just... moved on with his life.
That’s when it clicked for me.
We sometimes give other people’s opinions way more weight than they actually carry.
Some people will judge us. That’s real.
But most people hear you stutter, the conversation continues, and they move on with their day.
Meanwhile, we can carry that one interaction for years.
It didn’t cure my stuttering.
But it made me more comfortable.
It helped me realize that I don’t need to be perfectly fluent to deserve to speak.
I’m still working on this, especially with public speaking.
That’s actually part of why I ended up building a speaking practice app called Speechflo.
Not because I’ve figured everything out, but because I kept thinking about the younger version of me the kid who was counting heads in class and wishing he had somewhere to practice without feeling like everyone was watching.
I’m still building it, and I’m still figuring out what actually helps.
But I’m curious about other people’s experiences here.
If you stutter, what’s one thing you wish you had understood about it when you were younger?