Hey, sorry I got back to you so late! Medical school is tough. I’m co-authoring a paper and also writing one of my own (but the uni is an arse and doesn’t want to fund it whatsoever). I’ve been forced to find other supervisors. Enough of that, though. My stuttering is more so physiological than psychological: it got it after my dad died in war when I was 12, or so. I remember like a week later, my throat swelled up—but not your standard congestion—up to the thought of potential death invade my campus. The memory still lingers; I couldn’t breathe. From then on, I gradually displayed early signs of disfluency, granting me the disapprobation of chagrin, along with various other mentally-disabled monikers, some of which have accosted me great umbrage. I just dismissed it all because of the extreme stress I felt at the time (thankfully, much less now) and the trepidation that would accost me had I confided in a family member. I was just too afraid. I’ve had this stuttering issue of mine for 11 years now (and I’ve attended maybe 9 therapists since then—but not all of them were great, mind you). Much of the nascence of my pathology (and the recrudescence that would soon betide) would rely on weirdly unorthodox methods of treatment. At length, they would present to me, a few candles and ask me to blow on them, wherein they would assess the method of breathing (diaphragmatic, stomach, etc). Quite a few methods have proven effective, such as receding myself and listening so on and so forth to assess fluency. In sooth, this has helped me greatly, and upon further perusal of the various pedagogy of laryngopathological ailment—and its ostensible recuperative-ascribed correlation, I would later find that, the method, they purport, is ascribed success by the deception of the mind—by dint of repetition, which drives forth the notion of incessant fluency. One other such method was breathing through the stomach, as you proposed prior, but to my dismay, they did little to ameliorate my condition. Readily, I was advised to imagine the word it is I wish to convey, but this is an otherwise neutral addition to the myriad of my arsenal. Other methods included elongating the primary consonant of the word; that is to say, an inordinace in the phoneme, perhaps, which did occasional prove admissible at my repository (albeit , in concession, not indefinitely). Presently, and I do apologize for the rigmarole, I have procured a copy of Lee Lovett’s Stuttering books (I am yet to succumb to defeat. I wish to forfeit my indignant curtailment of expression and colloquy).