SPEECH IMPEDIMENT: A STAMMERER’S DILEMMA

Finding My Voice in a World That Wouldn’t Wait

I didn’t know I had a speech impediment until I turned 10. That was when my classmates started to ignore and mock me. I was constantly bullied, so I kept to myself all the time. The childhood most people cherish is my worst nightmare. Growing up came with its hurt, struggles, and trials.

My parents did their best but soon got tired too. I had no friends because no one had the patience to tolerate me. Even my siblings kept to themselves and only spoke to me on very important occasions. All of this, for something I had no idea how it happened.

Adulthood didn’t spare me either. I started to live alone at 18, survived alone, spoke alone, until I gained admission into the university and met Timi. He was the only one who didn’t stare at me with contempt or grow impatient when I took minutes to complete a simple sentence.

He came into my life during my second year. We were both late for Physiology class. The lecturer finally admitted us into the class and asked for our names. When it got to my turn, I struggled, as usual.

“M-m-m-y n-a-a-am-e is-is- T-e-m-m-i.”

It took forever to say, and everyone burst into laughter. The lecturer asked us to take our seats.

I cried silently. Then I heard a masculine voice behind me say, “Sorry about what happened earlier. You really don’t have to pay attention to them.”

"Easy for you to say. You introduced yourself in less than a minute," I replied.

“I understand,” he said gently. “And I’m not going to impose. My name is Timi, and I would really love to be your friend, if you don’t mind.”

It was the first time someone had volunteered to be my friend — and not just anyone, but a tall, good-looking glass of wine. Someone as handsome as him. Of course, I didn’t hesitate.

Timi came into my life like ease after hardship, a hush in the silence, peace in chaos. He was my confidant. He listened to my stories patiently and never made me feel bad about my speech. His smiles were wide and always perfectly timed. It wasn’t just his dark, shiny complexion that made him stand out. His charisma commanded attention wherever he went.

He would always tell me:

“Temi, your impediment doesn’t define you. You are beautiful, bold, and you are a great speaker. You should never fall prey to your fears. Instead, channel them into achieving everything you dream of. The world needs your voice and you need to be confident enough to use it.”

He framed those words, and I made a promise to recite them every morning.

They say nothing good lasts forever. My friendship with Timi didn’t either. He travelled to the United States in our third year to visit his parents. I wept profusely and missed him deeply. We still spoke, but it wasn’t the same as the moments we shared in school.

“I wonder how you never get tired of that stammerer,” I heard a female voice say just before I ended one of our long calls. I assumed it was his sister. It broke me.

As I feared, Timi stopped picking my calls. I became more withdrawn. We were close to our final exams, but my life felt disoriented. I knew I had to act, but I was scared.

My journal became my best friend. I wrote stories from dusk till dawn, never tired. I bled onto paper. At least paper had more patience than people.

One day, while scrolling through Instagram, I saw an ad about a free speech therapy class for people who stammer. I was skeptical but signed up anyway.

That community gave me the companionship I longed for. I met people who struggled just like me. Every day, we would go on long calls to practice what we were taught. Gradually, I got better. I began to regain my confidence.

We were taught to adore ourselves and dare to dream. We shared our dreams in the group and started working toward them. I longed to speak and write. Too much for a stammerer, huh? But I was determined to find my voice. I often spoke to myself, struggling and sometimes crying, just to improve.

If for nothing else, I wanted to be able to shout at those who mocked me. I wanted the world to hear my voice — and that, I did.

I finished school two years ago and now I’m a communications coach. Yes, you read that right. I really did improve and I now help others find their voice and strength.

If you have a speech impediment and you're reading this, know that you are not alone. Find your voice. Connect with your people. Don’t fall prey to fear. Know that you matter, because you truly do. Your impediment doesn’t define you. The fact that you are human is enough proof that you are amazing.

I’m still hoping and waiting for Timi to come back. So I can give a long speech of appreciation, and finally tell him how I’ve always felt about him.

Till then, I’ll keep speaking, writing, and living.

With love,
Noor