ME

I grew up in a household with mother, father and seven siblings (Aged from 3 to 20 years), plus a nephew on and off. We lived in a big 3-storey Victorian house in the London Borough of Islington.  A place that should have been safe, happy, full of fun and laughter – but it was not.  Do not get me wrong, when it was good, it was really good, but when it was bad it was really bad!

People from the outside looking in must have thought what a lovely family with well-mannered children.  But it was a house filled with fighting, physical and emotional abuse and fear.  I was an unhappy child.

My first recollection of me knowing that I had a stutter was when I was 5 years old. It was a day when my stepsister on my father’s side came from Jamaica to live with us. I remember a feeling of excitement in the family that our sister was coming from Jamaica to live with us; I remember her coming through the front door (I was upstairs in the bedroom I shared with my litter sister.   A bedroom on the first-floor landing, straight at the top of the stairs – having a view of the front door). She came in and was introduced to the family.  I felt shy.  The next thing I remember was bedtime and my sister was going to share our room with its big double bed. My parents, sister from Jamaica and little sis were in the bedroom. Time to say prayers; mine was the Lord's prayer. I felt uneasy and self-conscious that this lady was there who I was not used to. I started to say my prayers and I could not get the words out as I stuttered so much, I couldn’t believe what was happening. I got through it and then my sister said hers. It was a shorter prayer, which she repeated after my parents.

This was the beginning of a challenging, emotional tough journey for me. I hated the fact that I stuttered. I used to wish I were not born or it would have been better if I was dumb instead of talking with such an impediment that brought shame and embarrassment every time I spoke.

I was fearful and the apprehension I went through when I knew I had to talk. When I had to talk the first thought in my mind was you are going to stutter, I don’t want people to know that I stutter, I need to try and control my voice. With all of these thoughts, tension built up accompanied with apprehension and guess what I stuttered.

The experiences I went through was:

• Every school holiday I did a speech therapist course, Kingsway College near Kings Cross. I went to speech therapist once a week for a long time.
•  A lot of the time in school I was teacher’s pet; I suppose they took pity on me.
• I was teased and laughed at in school when I spoke. Yes, sometimes I would cry. I felt insignificant and had low self-esteem.
• Seeing the expression of the recipient’s face when I talked, i.e., impatience, helplessness, amused, trying to finish my sentences for me, and intrigued.
• Had the opportunity to go on BBC Radio and read poems – I declined.
• Joined the Mount View drama school in Crouch End N8 (Judi Dench Theatre), left after one semester as I was so terrified of doing a speaking role.
• Was held back in my reading class in school because the supply teacher thought with such a stutter, no way could I be on e.g., book 13. So, she moved me to book 4. I had much pleasure proving her wrong!
• When I had a squabble with my siblings at home and we had to explain to our mother what the problem was, I could not get my words out. My siblings had no problem explaining their side.
• Mum got a telephone, a red finger dial phone. It sat proudly on a telephone stand in the front-room. We all learnt the number – 272 4058. The phone rang, terror struck me as I was closest to the phone and expected to answer it. I picked up the receiver, I heard ‘hello’, I replied ‘huh, huh, hel, hello’. For me it felt forever. I slumped into shame, embarrassment and I hated myself.
• My brother-in-law asked me what I wanted to be when I leave school. I said a secretary. His response was how can you be a secretary when you stutter. I did not answer him, but I thought, I will show you. I was the best secretary any company could have had, working with utmost excellence! Yes I stuttered but I pushed through!

• When I did something wrong which my mother thought deserved a punishment, which was beatings, I took so long to explain myself because fear would not allow me to get the words out; she got fed-up of waiting for an explanation and just walked away – phew!