{"id":2498,"date":"2024-04-23T12:09:28","date_gmt":"2024-04-23T09:09:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/buzzy.mikado-themes.com\/?p=2498"},"modified":"2024-04-24T10:28:22","modified_gmt":"2024-04-24T07:28:22","slug":"a-turning-point","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/vanha.medioso.info\/blog\/kaikki\/a-turning-point\/","title":{"rendered":"A Turning Point"},"content":{"rendered":"

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]THE FEAR<\/strong><\/p>\n

I started stuttering when I was two years old. Luckily, I wasn\u2019t the only one in my family, as my father and brother stuttered as well. I had support my whole life, but that didn\u2019t erase the despise I\u2019ve had towards talking my entire life. Elementary school, as children pick on anything that\u2019s out of the ordinary, was a nightmare. The sheer terror I faced every time I tried to speak up in class, the anxiety of planning my sentences in advance, going over them in my head, as to minimize the risk of facing those laughs again.<\/p>\n

But all of this was in vain. Every single time as I prepped myself up, I know what to say. I know how to say it, I know which words to use, I can do this. <\/em>And I opened my mouth, sure of the fact that this time would be different.<\/p>\n

Nothing came out, not a word. Just that irritating \u201cth\u201d sound, as my tongue got glued to the roof of my mouth, trying to push out the hard consonants. I felt myself tense up; cold sweat crept up my spine, my mouth drained of water. I tried again. This time changing the structure of the sentence and switching up the words.<\/p>\n

\u201cThi-thi-thi-thi<\/em>\u201d was all I could hear myself say.<\/p>\n

Then came the laughter. That willingness killing laughter that I had faced countless times. After that, the consuming embarrassment that drowned my mind like an incoming flood. I tried to force myself to finish the sentence. I tried and I tried, I truly did, but repeating \u201cthis<\/em>\u201d over and over again was the best I could manage. So, as I had done many a time, I gave up. The teacher understood, my classmates didn\u2019t.[\/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space height=”29px”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1\/2″][vc_column_text]I\u2019ve faced judgement for something everyone is required to do: speaking<\/em>. A basis of human communication, the cornerstone of human interaction is something that I simply cannot do as easily as everyone else. Speaking is a chore for me. I constantly avoid using certain words, for they are nigh impossible for me to say. I need to structure my sentences in advance, go over them in my head. I need to pick the moments in a conversation where I know I CAN say something, so I can avoid the piercing gazes and judgmental faces that I get when I show signs of stuttering. Imprudent comments from people who know jack-all about my situation. The paralyzing fear as my phone rings, as I stare at it forever knowing that, if I answer, I can\u2019t say my own name and all I will hear is \u201cHello? Hello, is anyone there? This is so-and-so\u201d<\/em>. The amount of work I need to put into a single sentence\u2026 It\u2019s excruciating.<\/p>\n

Shame has been an integral part of my existence. It has followed me like night follows the day, like a predator shadows its prey. The same series of events followed for the duration of my teenage years and bled into my adult life. I tried to break this vicious cycle. Speech therapy helped me gain a tad of confidence, at least I learned different techniques to ease my speaking, but the underlying problem never vanished. It never could vanish. Or at least so I thought.<\/p>\n

The first week of August 2019, was a Turning Point<\/strong> of my life, as I got the opportunity to attend a Erasmus+ Youth Exchange for People Who Stutter.[\/vc_column_text]

\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n<\/div>[\/vc_column][vc_column width=”1\/2″][vc_single_image image=”10679″ img_size=”large”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_empty_space][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]FEAR IN VAIN<\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never travelled abroad alone. As my dad dropped me off at the airport, \u201cfright\u201d <\/em>was the dominating emotion. Yes, I\u2019ve flown before, but doing it alone seemed so alien. I met the other Finnish attendees at Helsinki. Although I knew that stuttering amongst them wouldn\u2019t be an issue, since they had the same issue as me, I still found myself doing the same habits that I would\u2019ve done when talking to a non-stutterer. It didn\u2019t help that they already knew each other. I felt like I wouldn\u2019t be able to feel accepted. I feared that I wouldn\u2019t be able to open up, that I couldn\u2019t let go of my stuttering habits even for a week, that the upcoming week would be something I\u2019d come to regret.<\/p>\n

We landed in Netherlands around midday. The anxiety had just kicked in. Did I pack all the essentials? What have I forgotten? Will they like me, accept me? What if I\u2019ll lock myself in again? What if after what if. <\/em>As we arrived to the campsite, I met with the Finnish group leader, Satu. She seemed to glow with positivity. I saw the confidence in the way she spoke, even as she stuttered, she just did not care. I heard the dozens of people talk, the cacophony of conversation. I saw their bodies move from the blocks and repetitions of their stutter, saw their eyes close for a long time so they could focus on getting over a particular block, a certain difficult word, a long repetition. The long eye contacts they held, as to not give power to their stutter, to not feel ashamed of themselves, as they had learnt over the years. I saw as the first timers felt frustration, stopped speaking and people coming over to console them, encouraging them to keep going, to not give control to this devilish problem we all shared. I looked and I listened. I felt\u2026 a sense of ease<\/em>. A feeling I\u2019m not sure I\u2019ve felt before, at least not in this magnitude.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_empty_space][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”10680″ img_size=”full”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_empty_space][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]FACING THAT FEAR<\/strong><\/p>\n

Throughout the week, we had workshops. Most of their purpose was to make you more confident and comfortable with your speaking skills, getting in touch with your stuttering and accepting it. We had workshops where we thought about the most annoying aspects of our stutter. Workshops where we went through our most painful experiences. Calling it difficult would be a major understatement. I didn\u2019t want to open those old wounds again, nor did I have to. But the others did, why wouldn\u2019t I?<\/p>\n

Never would I have thought that someone would have the exact same experiences as me. Stuttering is not a common thing, only about 1% of the world\u2019s population stutters. Now, as I was surrounded by over forty of them, it felt surreal. Like a dream, a fairytale. But this was real.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And most importantly, we had public speaking workshops.<\/p>\n

One of the exercises was to stand in front of a group of about a dozen people for a full two minutes. You had to look each of the attendees in the eye for ten seconds, completely silent, without breaking eye contact. Now, I\u2019m an introvert, eye contact makes me feel anxious. I\u2019m sure a lot of people have this same issue. Those two minutes were torture. Even when I was the one who had to be looked in the eye, still painful. The next day we had the same exercise, this time we had to make a two-minute speech about something we were passionate about. Subject was free of choice; eye contact necessary. I felt the pain in their eyes, as the others made their speeches. I felt the disdain they felt towards themselves, and I finally realized that I was no different than these people.<\/p>\n

Most of them were older than me, had families, spouses, jobs in high regarding places, they had respect in their circles. But inside all of them was that small child that they feared facing. A child that had been wronged, by their parents, by their friends, co-workers and the like. Yet they pushed through. The fear did not consume them.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd it won\u2019t consume me\u201d <\/em>I thought to myself.<\/p>\n

Then it was my turn to speak.<\/p>\n

I like to think that that was my turning point<\/strong>, seeing others overcome the same fears.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_empty_space][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1\/2″][vc_single_image image=”10681″ img_size=”large”][\/vc_column][vc_column width=”1\/2″][vc_column_text]BEREFT OF FEAR<\/strong><\/p>\n

That\u2019s what I was after that particular experience. Bereft of fear. Void of, stripped of, empty. The fear had left, I was free from it. No longer would I give a second thought about my repetitions or blocks, no longer would I let those penetrating gazes judge me, let that laughter bring me down. No longer would I stay silent. It was my turn to speak up.<\/p>\n

And I did.<\/p>\n

The rest of the exchange was a blur of adrenaline and indescribable enjoyment. The depression I had fought with for the past two years was gone. I had been purified, only a better version of myself remaining. Every chance I got to speak; I took it. During our Finnish national evening, I was one of the hosts. During speaking circles, I was the first one to volunteer. Damn it, they even interviewed me for a local newspaper. Me!<\/p>\n

Never had I felt so alive. I couldn\u2019t believe it. Something I previously despised, something I actively avoid, is bringing me joy? How can speaking out loud be this\u2026 fun?<\/em><\/p>\n

On the final day of the exchange, we had an open mic. Anyone and everyone could attend it, talk in front of the group, about anything and everything. I think I talked for almost ten minutes. This was something I never imagined doing. At this time, I had only made ONE speech at my father\u2019s wedding.<\/p>\n

I spoke about this very experience, how it changed me, how I\u2019ve never experienced anything remotely comparable to this. Halfway through, I started crying. I felt not ashamed, nor afraid of how everyone would react, but proud of what I had done. I overcame my fears, I overcame myself. I broke my mold and became something new, something to be proud of.[\/vc_column_text]

\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n<\/div>[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I realized that I love<\/em> speaking, love<\/em> presenting myself. I always had; I just needed the correct environment to express it. I remember promising myself, that I\u2019ll never be silent again, to never force myself into the mold of others\u2019 prejudices and imprudence.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_empty_space][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]AFTER FEAR, WHAT REMAINS?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I would not be here, writing this story to you, had I not attended that exchange. The impact it had on me; I cannot describe it. Words are not enough for this experience. This burden that I had carried for twenty years, was finally gone. I wish that I could\u2019ve told my seven-year-old self, that those countless sleepless nights, the constant tears that I wept in fear of being abandoned, the contempt I felt towards myself, the scorn of being me, were all for naught. I wish I would\u2019ve believed that it really does get easier with time.<\/p>\n

The metaphorical distance I\u2019ve traveled since elementary school, is nigh of a miracle. I\u2019ve been a host to our school\u2019s live show, I\u2019ve done a bit of acting, hosted some events and a rap night, been an interviewer and interviewee, acted as a group leader, been a producer, director. These might not seem like all that much, but for me? A person who can barely speak properly? These meant the world to me.<\/p>\n

Because of the exchange, I finally accepted myself as who I am. And through accepting myself, I learned to be me<\/em>, the best version of myself that I can be. Stuttering is not a problem, it\u2019s not an issue nor a disability. Stuttering\u2019s a quality. A quality not many people have. It makes you unique in a world filled with normality. So, own it. Make it yours, since you\u2019re the one in control.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I asked a question in the title of this paragraph. I\u2019ve thought about the answer for a long time now, mainly after different situations I\u2019ve encountered. I don\u2019t have a straight answer, not yet, but I can tell you what I do know: Fear is a momentary emotion, an emotion that\u2019s based purely on it trying to protect us. Fear is a survival instinct. It is very natural, and sometimes even very helpful. But it can also be overwhelming, it can be consuming, it can kill your mind, flood it with thoughts that aren\u2019t purely yours. It\u2019s controlling. But I won\u2019t let it control me, not anymore.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1\/2″][vc_column_text]\u201cI must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me, I will turn the to see the fear\u2019s path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

-Frank Herbert, Dune, 1965.<\/em><\/p>\n

[\/vc_column_text]

\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n<\/div>[\/vc_column][vc_column width=”1\/2″][vc_single_image image=”10682″ img_size=”full”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Written by Konsta Ounasti<\/em>[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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Vel ut eirmod vocibus ponderum.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":91,"featured_media":10732,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,137,6,16],"tags":[272,121],"class_list":["post-2498","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-kaikki","category-kulttuuri","category-kulttuuri-ja-viihde","category-matkailu","tag-culture","tag-kulttuuri"],"yoast_head":"\nA Turning Point - Medioso<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/vanha.medioso.info\/blog\/kaikki\/a-turning-point\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"fi_FI\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"A Turning Point - Medioso\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"An oblique splendide eam. 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