That's it, I've finally understood, why I want to be free. I wanted to be free all my life. I craved to be acknowledged, understood, treated as I'd deserve. I hated stuttering for being hampered so that I couldn't get what I deserve. While I was stuttering, I was just a voodoo-puppet with which Fate was stabbing my real personality, my real being. Why?! And while struggling I always saw on the others' faces, that I was detracting with every moment. Don't you see out there that I'm just as normal and healthy and able to play, laugh, kiss freely as you?? – tried to shout with my eyes, because my mouth was shut by an alien force. So I felt alone more and more. Well then, be it.
I was the liar one. I was acting all the time. I didn't know it, because I didn't know other way, I too always advised others to "be yourself", and I sincerely thought that I was myself. Well: a boy who tries to hide his weakness, tries to be totally normal. That's the way a "self" is, or not? I had girlfriends, I had really valuable friends, I was strong, sometimes I kinda liked that I have a hard life with that I was secretly at war. I slightly despised the "cool guys" and the ordinary people who just "were themselves", called them blinds, who don't really know what is life, how serious, challenging it can be.
I thought, just like my parents thought, that my stutter is my only problem as it frustrates me, balks my plans, makes my life harder. I never considered that the real problem might be all the other huge part of me that can't stand the stutter, that awful, ridicule infirmity. I never considered that I am the voodoo-master who forces my body to speak fluently, to be normal despite the fact that I stuttered, I stuttered, I stuttered, and knew that if I'm fluent, I am a stutterer nevertheless. Until my covert stutter came out, I had never, never let enter my head the word "stutter". In one class there was a severe stutterer, and I pretended like she wasn't there at all. When somebody stuttered on TV, I pretended like I never saw it. In my very expansive journal I never wrote down the word "stutter". I never dealt in my mind with awkward situations.
I wanted to be acknowledged as a normal human being so badly, with speechless compassion, that when I couldn't hold back any longer the stutter invading my vulnerable life, I crushed. I fell in severe depression. Psychiatrists wanted to stuff me with medicals. Fortunately I was a thinker, and considering how medicals work, I laughed at them and rejected their lunacy. What is depression? Exactly what I needed: the struggling of letting go a desire, a will, a wanting that you can't fulfill. When your mother dies, you don't take pills, but you're depressed (it's called "mourning" in social terms), because you have to let her go. You want her to be around even if she's already dead, and that unfulfillable desire makes you depressed. You feel that without your mother you are just your shadow.
I felt exactly the same, and considering it seriously, I had felt it all my life: that I'm just my shadow. When stuttering had invaded my life, I was struggling some years in "depression", but finally I sank that low that I couldn't keep longer that state of mind. Then, without any strain, I stopped "myself", I stopped being a "myself-addict", I gave up everything, or let's say I was given up. I didn't want to kill myself anymore, because that would have been too much fuss. I wanted not to exist, but not from that time, but from eternity. I wanted Fate to flush me down the Eternal Toilet, the black hole of Nothingness.
Then came the lightning by looking into the mechanism of my stuttering: I had never been a stutterer, I had never been abnormal: my willing to be normal made me abnormal. My ever unshed tears went off from the ever hardened, mannish face in huge, unstoppable waves leaching every sand-barricade, sweeping every tin soldier, bringing down every raised wall during the everlasting war against my weakness, my hidden ocean, which I had forced out from the deep of my healthy, benign ground I made into a deserted standing-ground.
I had wanted to be free because I'd imprisoned myself; I'd wanted to be free because I never had been; I'd wanted to be a true man and for the sake of the cause I'd lied, acted all the time, sourly but with a must. I'd wanted reality, real love, real life, real connections, real achievements so truthfully, so badly, that I had had to distort reality, my real incapacity of love, my firm belief that I can't be really, fully loved, my half-true connections with me not being able to open up, my exaggerated achievements which only had to prove the unprovable, that I'm worth something… I ended up repeating this line at that very moment, shivering by the promise of freedom: "Could it be that I am normal? Could it be that I'm okay? Could it be that I have been the one destroying my life until now?" And I felt a huge tug at my heart's strings as I felt the answer coming.
But something distracted my attention. Just for a moment. And I was immediately the old liar, the old monster, the old spider again. Remember the naked lady in the brain-test? After I had managed to change her direction, the little devil turned back, unnoticed. I ended up mopping up my tears, telling myself that „Okay, now I know the truth, but I rest a little, I continue it tomorrow”. My stutter was disappeared, from muteness to such fluency that it never even entered my head that „wow, I’m fluent”, because I was a fluent person. – But days passed, and I fell back. I tried to rediscover what I discovered at that moment, but I was just repeating the words, without intensity, without empathy, without really meaning what I say. The jigsaw puzzle was put together, but I couldn't see the whole picture. Weeks passed, and I started to drive myself crazy upon taking back my freedom. – Now, a month later: I’m almost mute again, my head is full of words like „freedom”, "phobia", „I can stop stuttering”, words with which I stuffed that forum too.
And it worked. Everybody comes here to satisfy their will to be free; at least give a voice to it. Everybody wants to tell his/her story, want a little power while discussing stuttering, gaining courage, lying about hope. This forum is like an anti-depressant curing: it makes your will thus your suffering lasting longer, not allowing to sink into nothingness, to be able to born again. Everybody wants to avoid the doctor who would cut their tumor out. Because we are our tumor. That’s why Hans and Asif were misunderstood, but in the end, they were fools too. Just as I am. Our last fake role is "the wise who can tell how to overcome your stutter" – no, it's a lie. You can't overcome your stutter, because you would have to overcome the wanting to overcome. The only true "guru" would be one who push you to total, indoubtable failure, an End of your hoping to be what you want to be.
But putting down, letting go almost all the puzzle-pieces (maybe that's my last post, or there's one or two are still to come), leaving the forum I'll end up with the last one, the black hole, the spider, the monster, the tumor. Myself. That’s it. With that, I’ve finally understood what I have to do – do nothing. Wanting to be something makes me a black hole. My everlasting sin is wanting to be free. Letting my known self leave, I come home to myself. And I'm welcome.
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