Unassailable

"So tell me it’s okay. Tell me anything, or show me there’s a pull, unassailable, that will lead you there, from the dark, alone, to benevolence that you’ve never known, or you knew when you were four and can’t remember. Where a small knife tears out those sloppy seams, and the silence knows what your silence means, and your metaphors (as mixed as you can make them) are linked, like days, together." -- John K. Sampson, The Weakerthans

I Want to Hear What You Have to Say

Open up your mouth
Say whatever you're thinking
Screw other people
I attend a monthly stuttering group where stutterers, parents of stutters, speech therapists, and students get together to talk about their problems, fears, and questions. At this month's meeting there was one specific speech therapist who I was particularly interested in absorbing everything I could from. He is a life-long stutterer who you would not even guess ever stuttered. He would be what any adult stutterer would look at and listen to and say "That's exactly what I want to be like." I had heard him talk at another gathering of our group many months prior. I knew that I could relate the things he said directly to me and my therapy. Not just "could relate", but "needed to relate"; our adult therapy stories were similar enough that I knew I could gain a lot from hearing his insights.

The conversation had lingered and it was almost half an hour past the scheduled ending time for the meeting. A different speech therapist had been talking about something that I had a question about that I really wanted to ask. People were shifting around and getting ready to leave. As soon as she was done talking I started to try to ask my question at the same time as the standard end-of-a-long-gathering din began, people getting up to leave, several people talking at once. The only sound I created was a fairly inaudible noise that was me trying to start my question alongside the commotion. The speech therapist had half turned and didn't see or hear me. My face was undoubtedly distorted as I tried to force my question out. And then, what happened in the next few moments, I will never forget.

"I'm listening, Torey."

I glanced up towards the person who had spoken so sincerely. The speech therapist, the one who stuttered, the one who knew exactly how I felt at that moment, was staring at me as earnestly as he had spoken. I tried again, and again was unsuccessful. Though there was no blame to be laid anywhere, the rest of the people seemed oblivious to my struggle.

He spoke again, a little bit louder, and again in all sincerity, "I want to hear what you have to say."

I got myself started and actually asked the question much easier than I would have expected. At that point I didn't really care about the question and I cared about the answer even less. No one that I remember in my life had ever said anything like that to me. Maybe it was because it didn't feel patronizing at all. "I'm listening." Maybe it was because it was being said by someone who knows what it's like, really knows, because they've lived it. "I want to hear what you have to say." Whatever the reason, it hit me hard, in a place that needed it.

After the meeting I stuck around and talked for a few more minutes with a few people, including the speech therapist who had spoken to me. I remembered exactly what he had said, but I couldn't dwell on it because I knew I would get really emotional. After leaving the building and walking through the parking lot toward home I let the two statements he had uttered slide back into my head. If I had been at home alone at that moment I would have cried for several minutes. Being that I was in a public place with some people walking around, I just let a few tears fall. After a few blocks I came upon a co-worker out walking her dog. She lives toward my house so we walked together and had a pleasant conversation. When I got home my wife told me that she had told our three year old daughter that I would come in and give her a kiss when I got home. She shares a room with our one year old son, so I went in quietly. I was not surprised to find her still awake and we spent a few minutes whispering together before I kissed her one last time and left. I then went and washed the dishes while my wife dried and we talked about a variety of mundane things. The climax of the evening was, without a doubt, hearing those two things said to me, but the rest of it means something too, even though they're everyday things that won't stay with me forever. I stuck around and talked...had a pleasant conversation...spent a few minutes whispering together...talked about a variety of mundane things...

I'm on the right track.