I knew I kinda stuttered but I never felt it was a huge deal, it never stopped me from being a bright, happy, extroverted child. My elementary school was actually really advanced and honestly a very great school, so they identified me for speech therapy in kindergarten and very gently and compassionately suggested to my parents that I see the school speech therapist once a week, which I was totally fine doing. I just thought “oh okay, I guess I have to practice a little more” the same way I thought about a math test. Still a happy go lucky kid, no problem. I’m 5 years old, I’m a happy cute little kid sitting in this speech therapist’s office (by myself—sessions would occur during school hours) and honestly excited for the session and I remember this middle aged blonde woman introducing herself as my speech therapist and the first thing out of her mouth was “you have a stutter. You will never be cured. But with practice I guess we can hope you can improve.” To a 5 year old. Without her parents. With a very MILD stutter and honestly otherwise very strong public speaking skills. It took me years to undo the damage she inflicted upon me by cursing me to an eternity of this curse. I needed to know that I CAN overcome this but all she instilled in me was hopeless. And so casually so. So yeah, since then my stutter became so much worse and so did my depression and anxiety. Anytime my Dad would beat me at home for stuttering and I just felt so powerless to help myself because apparently there’s no cure and I’ll never get better. So yeah. Age 5. I can’t tell you how much resentment I harbor for the adults in my life.