Fluent Thoughts

She left her experience behind and focused on her habits, the habits that accompanied her stammer. She knew that no forcing or tensing will get the words out, she started with her face expressions by holding a mirror in front of her while using the phone, and trying her best to unstring her face expressions when stammering. It worked fairly.

Switching words when needed and when not needed, to hide her stammer; if she thought she would stammer she would switch that word to another similar in meaning or even has nothing to do with the meaning. Saying what she doesn’t mean, and meaning what she doesn’t say. All came as new habits in her stammering life.

A Covert stammerer she became in high school; she would never raise her hand and will never take oral tests, she would never read loud, she hated English classes. She was an A student, some teachers loved her and some thought she was snooty for not answering questions though they know that she knows the answer. Snooty!! Snooty; so what?; As long as she felt safe.

All of her parent’s tries to convince her to meet speech therapists; failed.

“You talk good now” Said a relative who used to make jokes of her stammer; thinking he was funny.
“I have always talked good”
“I mean your stammer reduced”
“My stammer has nothing to do with my talking; I talk good yet less fluent”
“Okay! What reduced it?”
“It never changed”
“But you don’t stammer as before”
“Yes; I guess so”

She does stammer as before, she is still in lack of fluency. Her stammer never reduced, but she learned how to trick it, how to trick her mind, how to trick her self. It never made her feel better. It never made her express her feelings well, it never made the words in her mind out; they are trapped inside, not coming out at all. Before she used to stumble them out but now they have no way out; other words are coming instead. The real words were stuck, captured, transformed into feelings. Feelings transformed into words, words trapped, trapped words transformed into other feelings. All trapped inside.

Her mother found it difficult to communicate with her; it was hard for both to do, they would fight all the time. The girl was angry for not having the chance to explain things and her mother was angry that her daughter has not become the daughter and friend she dreamed of. Her daughter was nothing like her and wasn’t welling to open her heart to her mother at all, not to anybody. She thought they didn’t care about her feelings all what they cared about is getting rid of her stammer.

“There is a dinner party at you aunt’s place”
“I don’t want to go”
“Don’t you get bored of staying at home?”
“No I have many things to do at home”
“Books and movies; Life is nothing without people”
“I like it like that”
“You are going”
“I don’t want to” crying 
“I said you’re going, and that’s it”
Crying
“Why are you crying now?”
Crying 
“What is with you?. Why do you cry when ever I tell you to do something?”
“I don’t want to go” crying
“And does that make you cry! Not wanting to go!”
Crying
“Go to your room”
Crying
“You don’t have to go”
Crying

Crying, crying, crying is all what she does when she can’t respond to their questions. She hated socializing with people; she would not go out at all. She hated her relatives and her Mother’s friends for visiting all the time. She liked her comfort zone and wanted to stay there for ever but people would always interrupt and will always show in her life. Forcing her to do things never worked, she was a stubborn; never been forced to do things by people; No one will take choices on her behalf. Her word will be finale; it will take what ever to make it what she wants. She would stammer when she talk, she didn’t choose to, she wanted to talk fluent but she couldn’t, that wasn’t her choice but every thing else was.

In 1998 she graduated from high school and started university; more talking and communicating. Paper work and presentations; calling her name in class and she have to say “yes” so the professor would know that she attended; this was the most terrifying moment of the day in her university life.

The professor calls her name
calls her name again 
No response 
“He’s calling your name” the girl beside her said  
“I didn’t hear him”   
“Tell him you’re here” 
“I will tell him after class”

Sometimes she tells him after class, and sometimes she can’t.

She starts working on her presentation project and does it very well, she takes it to her professor and he approves. And tells her that she would present it next week; she can’t sleep for a week, her stomach aches, and she gets nightmares. It’s not because she is afraid of talking in public, it’s because she is afraid of stammering in public, it’s because she is afraid of someone laughing at her, it’s because she is afraid of people looking away from her. The presentation date comes and she presents her work as she expected, stammering, people laughing and others looking away, even the professor were looking away. Second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh she never gave up and never stopped presenting her work; she would never tell that she couldn’t because of her stammer she would prefer stammering than running away.

To be continued  

Hello all

I have moved to this nice cozy place by the help of B.Oz

Thank you Bloboz

I can’t sleep
I can’t breathe well
I drink coffee and never get the fix
My head aches, my stomach aches, my brain aches
I read, read, read, read and read
To not think
I close the book and start to think
I read, read, read, read and read
I stray while I read and think
I try to concentrate on reading
I read
I close the book and try to sleep, no use
It’s already 3:00 am and am still awake
It’s already Fajer prayer and am still awake
I wash and pray
I go back to bed
I sleep
I wake up at 6:00 am
I shower, change, have coffee and leave
Am sleepy, my mode is awful
Am all awful
My day is awful
I hate it when it’s awful
I think awful
I eat awful
I breathe awful
All week is awful
Sleepless
Head aches
Busy mind
I hate busy mind
I want to sleep

Talking is a daily progress, a necessary need in life, one major communication tool.

“Hello, I would like to order one thin crispy Halloumi pizza with tomato”
“Hi, I am Ms. Al …., and would like to apply for a job in your company”
“Three tickets for Ace Age, please”
“I need the bank’s average rate for 17 April”
“Could I have a smaller size please?”
“One tall latte please”

She told her parents about the speech therapist visiting her at school and wanting to talk to her about her stammer; they called school next day and asked them how they could do such a thing without their permission. Mrs. Shaikha was shocked “Why permission? We are trying to help your daughter”; What Mrs. Shaikha didn’t know is that she has raised it as a problem, the girl didn’t think of it as a problem as she does now because of the way it was treated before, her therapist would observe her in class and tell her teachers how to deal with her without the need of taking her out of class, without the need of her feeling she is different than others.

Her parents refused and told Mrs. Shaikha that they will help their daughter their way. She has always thought that her stammer was permanent and managed to cope with it, few tears when angry or frustrated and all will be good.

He was sitting in the opposite side of the table staring at her. She looks at the people sitting to her side and motions to them to see this guy staring at her in a strange freaky way. He would not stop staring, until it’s time to leave. they all get out of the room and she searches for her shoes which she left at the door step; while she does that they all leave except for him, it’s when he gets his knife out of his pocket and hold her arms tight, she tries to escape but her legs wouldn’t move, she tries to call for help but her voice wouldn’t come out, she tries to close her eyes, but her eyes wouldn’t close, he puts his knife on her throat wanting to kill her, she feels her blood moving through her vessels, she hears her breath so clear and her heart beats so high. She wants it all to stop; she wants to die before his knife cutting her throat. Please don’t kill me.

Though she has been having this dream since she could remember, and though she knows what will happen next, she would always wake up terrified. She has this dream when ever her stammer gets to its peak.

Days past and even months since her parents called Mrs. Shaikha, life is getting better and her homesickness is reducing, she made new friends and started socializing with people but her stammer is getting worse and worse until it got to its highest level. Her parents thought that she should start therapy; they started calling people and asking for good therapists; they first called a friend of theirs who works as psychological therapist who had a stammering son who doesn’t stammer anymore to see if there is any possible psychological problem that could have caused her stammer; but fortunately or maybe unfortunately there wasn’t.

They then thought that she should meet a speech therapist; she refused; but her family insisted and told her that she will not lose a thing. She went with them to meet her, her parents told her about their daughter’s history with stammer. She then asked them to leave her alone with their daughter.

“Hello”
“Hi” with an uncertain smile
“Tell me about your life”
“It’s good”
“Do you go to school?”
“Yes”
“How are your grades?”
“Good”
“How good are they?”
“Very good”

Her answers were all short, direct to the question, and in the other hand the therapist doesn’t know how to attract an angry stammering teenager to a nice long conversation. So she got fed up with her and told her to call her parents in and wait out side. In their way home her parents told her that the therapist told them that she is not a stammerer and that she is faking it. The daughter was very angry and wanted to cry badly; how could she fake her pain, tears, suffer, years of hesitating before asking a question or participating in a conversation. How could she fake it knowing that some would laugh at her or ridicule her talk; years of losing breath, chest pain and wet pillows. How in God could she fake it?

“I wish that she would suffer the highest stammer ever for the rest of her life”
“Don’t say that dear” said her father
“I wish that she loses her tongue and all her senses”
“Don’t worry dear; we don’t believe her” her mum crying

Her first try was one of the worst tries.

To be continued

School was one of her favourite places she enjoyed education, loved math, and interested in history. She wouldn’t mind raising her hand and stammering while answering or explaining things; her teachers never made her feel that it was a problem.

She was 13 when they moved to her claimed home; new house, new people, new culture, new facts, new life style and a new school. School was the major problem beside her mother’s illness and travelling for a surgery and recovery.

School oh school; in this country schools are nothing but miserable centres where education comes last; she, her brothers and sister have attended different schools private and public, Arabic and English; none of them were good to be called an education centre.

She hated her new school; she hated her teachers except for one. She was behaving as she used to; a good student in math she was, it was her favourite subject; in one of her math classes, her teacher explained a theory to them and showed them how to solve some problems using it; she then wrote a question on the board and asked them to solve it; the girl figured that she could solve it in three steps instead of five; math teacher told her it was wrong and marked it wrong with a red pen. Then the teacher showed them how to solve it, and for her surprise it was the same result at the end, so the brave cowered raised her hand, “Yes?” asked the teacher “I have the same result” stumbling her words out; “You did it in three steps and it should be in five” replied irritated; “but this is an easier way that I have discovered, and it needs less steps yet with the same result” said the brave coward. “So you come from a foreign country being so proud of you self telling me how to do my job” shouted the teacher at her; no one have ever shouted at her like that, at her old school they would have granted her for her creative way. She was shocked and scared of her teacher’s attitude, she tried to explain but her stammer flew to it’s peak, her words would not come out easily and her teacher was telling her to shut up; but as a stubborn stammer and a very brave coward she was, she can’t stop before completing her sentence which she started saying before her teacher told her to shut up; it is when her teacher told her to go the social supervisor’s office.

While walking the social supervisor’s office she was saying in an audible voice “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, and I hate her” and her tears were covering her face. She came to her office and knocked the door “Come in” “Good morning Mrs. Shaikha” “Hi, were you crying?” “NO” “Ok, why are you here?” “My math teacher sent me to you” “Why?” “I don’t know”. She waited there for her math teacher to arrive and explain things to Mrs. Shaikha.

The teacher arrived and Mrs. Shaikha told the girl to stay outside for a while; the math teacher started explaining things to Mrs. Shaikha in a very loud voice “This little girl is teaching me how to do my job; she thinks that she is smarter than me because she lived in a foreign country, I had to show her how to behave good and to teach her manners”. “Yup yup yup she’s crazy alright” the girl said to her self in a audible voice, it’s when some one from behind her said “Who is crazy?”; the girl was so scared that she couldn’t recognize the voice; luckily it was Mrs. Elham the English teacher who unfortinatley wasn’t her teacher, “hahaha you scared me; it’s my math teacher”. The girl told Mrs. Elham what happened.

Mrs. Elham solved the problem according to her definition of solving; but the brave cowered wasn’t pleased; she went home and told her father what happened, which she never did before, she never told him or her mother when she was bothered of peoples behaviour towards her stammer, but her teacher said big words about her needing to behave good and needs to be taught manners. “I don’t want to go to school any more, and I will not until this teacher dies” “I will go to your school tomorrow morning and talk to your teacher” “Go alone, I’m not going with you” “Until when?” “Until I feel I want to”.

She stayed at home for one month; I don’t remember what made her go back to school, but remember Mrs. Elham hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks.

At her first day of coming back Mrs. Shaikha asked her to come to her office, because there’s someone who wants to meet her. The girl went and there was a lady sitting in her office talking to Mrs. Shaikha. “This is Mrs. Nora, she wants to talk with you for a while; come sit over here, and I will leave the office for you two to talk”.

“Hi I’m Mrs. Nora”
“Hi”
“Come sit”
“Okay”
“Now tell me, how is school?”
“Fine”
“How are your grades?”
“Don’t know, just started” Stumbling her words out
“Hmmm, do you do that all the time?”
“Do what?”
“Stammer when you talk”
“aha”
“I’m here to solve that”
“solve what?”
“Your stammer”
No reply
“Now you have to tell me when it started”
“Does my family know about you talking to me about it?”
“No, but Mrs. Shaikha will tell them later”
“Sorry then I can’t talk to you”
“But I’m here to help you”

The brave coward stood up and went to her class.

To be continued