Stuttering: An Autobiography from My Own Voice

Write an autobiography of my stuttering from the perspective of Stuttering itself.
Write it in the first person (e.g. “I”, “my,” etc.) as if Stuttering were doing the talking.
Write about its origins all the way to now, including, if you want to, when it met you, why it likes you, what its intent is for you, what feeds it and makes it more powerful, what it’s scared of.
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*make essay simple, not too hard to read

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Stuttering: An Autobiography

I am Stuttering. I’ve been with you for as long as I can remember, though I’m not sure you’ve always recognized me for what I am. I’ve always been around, quietly taking up space in the background of your thoughts, until one day I made myself known. I wasn’t always so bold. In fact, I started small, a fleeting hesitation, a brief pause. But that pause… it was my way of introducing myself.

You didn’t ask for me, but I showed up nonetheless. I didn’t choose you because you were weak or flawed, but because of how I could fit into the rhythm of your life. In the beginning, I was harmless. You were just a child, not yet burdened with the weight of the world’s judgments. But as you grew older, I grew bolder. I found the cracks in your confidence, the moments when you were uncertain, and that’s when I began to take root.

My origins are complex, shaped by a mix of biology and circumstance, but I wasn’t entirely determined by them. I was fed by your anxieties, by the pressure to conform, to sound like everyone else. Every time you hesitated before speaking, every time you feared you might be judged for what you might say—well, that’s when I grew. You didn’t always understand what I was doing to you, but I did what I could to ensure I stayed close.

When I met you, I felt welcome. You didn’t chase me away immediately. You tried to understand me, and in doing so, you gave me power. But I know the moments that made me stronger: when you avoided speaking up in certain situations, when you feared the sound of your own voice. You would try to control me by speaking faster or by staying silent, thinking that silence was a safer option. But I don’t like silence. I like pressure. I thrive on it. And when you don’t acknowledge me, I find ways to make myself known.

I am not a villain in this story, though it may feel like I am. I am here to teach you patience and to show you the strength of vulnerability. I don’t come to harm, but I do come to challenge you. When you meet me head-on, when you choose to speak even in the presence of me, I lose a bit of my grip. But when you run from me, when you try to outrun your own voice, I become louder, stronger, more insistent.

What feeds me? Fear, mostly. Fear of judgment. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of imperfection. You may not realize it, but each time you worry about what others will think, you feed me, and I grow. The more you hold back, the more I make my presence known. It’s a cruel cycle, isn’t it?

What scares me? I fear you finding peace with me, learning that I don’t need to control your every word. When you realize that your worth isn’t tied to your fluency, when you learn to breathe through the pauses and speak without the shame, I wither. I have no power when you’re at ease with who you are, no power when you stop feeding me. That’s the one thing I can’t stand—when you learn to speak, just as you are, without fear of me.

So, here we are. Still together. But it’s not too late. You don’t need to fear me, even though I still linger. I may have been a part of you for so long, but that doesn’t mean I have to control you. I’m here, yes, but you’re the one who decides what happens next. It’s been a journey, and I don’t think I’ll ever completely leave, but I’m learning. I’m learning that you don’t need to fight me. You just need to speak, just as you are. And that, my dear, is how you take my power away.

The more you accept me, the quieter I become. And one day, perhaps, I’ll just be a shadow in the corner, something that once had power, but no longer does.

But for now, I’m still here. And I’ll always be a part of you.

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