"The psychological impact of stuttering has been the most difficult part for me, overshadowing the physical challenges.

I vividly remember my first day in third grade at a new school, halfway through the year. Walking into a room full of strangers, I fidgeted nervously, avoiding eye contact. Sitting in the far corner, I tried to reassure myself, but that confidence was short-lived.

When asked to introduce myself, panic took over. My heart raced, my palms sweated, and the room seemed to blur. Standing up, all I managed to say was "M-m-m-m..." My failed attempts and the laughter from classmates left me in tears, wishing I could disappear.

Now, at 25 years, that memory still haunts me, not because of the stuttered words or my fist hitting my thigh, but because of the intense feelings of guilt, nervousness, hopelessness, loneliness, shame, and anger it brought up.

Still, my story, like many others, has a happier ending. I’ve learned that most people are kinder and more understanding than we often think.

The real problem is a lack of awareness about stuttering and its emotional effects. By taking responsibility to inform others, I courageously spoke to my class about stuttering, explaining how it affected me. That act of vulnerability was transformative.

Today, I still stutter and sometimes fear speaking in certain situations, but now I have developed self-love and acceptance. I've embraced my identity as a proud person who stutters (PWS), and I find strength in my journey."