The Day My Stutter Got Worse
It’s funny, but as long as I can remember most of my nightmares have involved stuttering: I’m the only one who can warn my friends that zombies are sneaking up behind them, but I can’t get the words out. I’m trapped in a giant trash compactor and can’t yell to the operator that, in fact, not everyone has gotten clear. I’m a spy that needs to say the code phrase to prove my identity, but I get caught on the first syllable. Those are all dreams that I’ve had in the last year, and every time I wake up to spend the rest of the day on pins and needles, worried that it’s the day my stutter will get worse again.
Statistics show that about 5% of kids start stuttering in childhood. Of that 5%, about 25% will go on to stutter into young adulthood and a further smaller percentage of those will stutter the rest of their lives. Lucky me, to be part of such an exclusive club.
(Actually, I’m part of a weirder sub-group, where I started stuttering when I was about 12, 6-7 years later than the average, and my stutter continued to get more extreme with age. But I digress.)