When I was a toddler, I was inseparable from my best friends; my thumb and blankie. Who would’ve guessed that my best friends would end up being my worst enemies?

I walked through the double doors on the first day of school. I felt the excitement as the kids around me talked and laughed about what the new school year would bring. I smelt the aromas coming from the cafeteria as the lunch crew got an early start for the day. In that moment, I too was excited. I never quite felt that way again. 
It all began when I was in first grade. I was always talking about my favorite toys or what level I was on in the popular game Poptropica. I always enjoyed being around my friends, I was never aware that something was off. That was until I got home one day after school and my mom had told me my teacher had emailed her. I did not think much of it; I was too young to think my teacher could have sent my mom something negative.  My mom later told me what the email said. My teacher told my mom that she had a problem with the way I spoke. She was unable to understand me and it was distracting to my classmates. I was never conscious or informed that I had problems with my speech. I did not know I had a speech impediment.

The next day I went to school feeling different. I felt like an outcast, not good enough. I thought that because I could not talk the way everyone else did, I was different. Since I was only in the first grade, I still wasn’t completely conscious of how bad my speech was. I hated feeling different from my classmates. I hated feeling obsolete.

A few years later, I was in fourth grade and I was more aware of my problem. I used to be the kind of student who would raise her hand whenever I had the chance to answer my teacher’s question, but that turned into my worst fear. I never wanted to speak in front of my class, ever. What made me feel more embarrassed was on certain days I was taken out of class to go to speech therapy.  My friends would ask me where I was and I was afraid to answer. I continuously begged my mom to take me out of school speech therapy until she did. She later had me going to see a speech therapist away from school. I remember how comfortable she made me feel, and whenever I pronounced a word right, I was bouncing off the walls with excitement. I remember the day that I could finally say “rabbit” correctly. I was so excited when I left my session. I told my mom and continued bringing it up the entire week. I was elated. I thought I would be speaking perfectly in no time, but I was wrong.
Later, that year, I had an adult tell me that if I did not fix my speech impediment, I would have no friends and be bullied in middle school. I was terrified. I trusted what he was telling me. This is when I became fully aware of my speech problem. I feared losing all my friends and having rude comments thrown my way. I did everything I could to avoid talking. This was a lot different than when I was back in first grade. Back then, I came off as outgoing and talkative, but in fourth grade I was extremely shy. 

Moving on to fifth grade, that is when I had braces put on for the first time. People were always commenting on my speech. I led them to believe it was due to my braces. They seemed to accept the braces being my issue. Truth be told, the braces only made a bad situation worse.

Later that summer, I remember being out with my dad and one of his friends. His friend made a comment about the way I spoke and laughed. He laughed! I was so embarrassed. He then asked where I got my accent. I was confused; I did not have an accent. I soon came to realize he did not think of the possibility of me having a speech impediment; he thought it was an accent. My dad then responded that I got it from his side of the family. I became even more embarrassed knowing that my father was lying. This led me to think he was embarrassed to confess that his daughter had a speech problem. My heart was broken.

By the beginning of middle school, I tried my best to listen carefully to how I spoke and what people around me were saying. Being focused on the way I spoke all the time was a huge burden on my outlook. My parents were always making me repeat words. I would get so frustrated. I never seemed to say my words well enough to please them. Everyone began asking me if I was from Britain. This comment took me back to the memory of my dad and his friend. People would ask why I speak the way I do, and I would just say I did not know. I was humiliated and all I wished for was to talk like a normal person. I no longer wanted to be asked to repeat words because my friends thought it sounded “cool”, I no longer wanted to speak in front of my class. I just wanted it to stop.

Throughout middle school it did get better after months of constantly listening to myself and trying to fix my problems. People of course still asked about my made-up accent, but I did not mind it as much anymore. I was so used to being asked the same questions it became a part of my identity.

I am now a sophomore in high school and what I went through in the past still affects me today. I am still always listening for judgement or laughs from my classmates. I am still afraid of presenting in front of a class. I still receive the same questions I had in the past. Having a speech impediment made me afraid of being made fun of. My self-worth and confidence will never be the same as it was in the first grade. I remember making wishes on my birthday when I blew out the candles to be able to talk correctly. To this day, even when I make new friends I become fully aware of the way I am speaking. I am afraid of them pointing out that I have an “accent.” This will forever affect me. It is not just a problem; it is who I am. It cannot be avoided; people are cruel. I will attempt to put on a smile and act as if I am not affected, but I am forever changed.

Thanks to my best friends, my thumb and blankie, for giving me a speech impediment. You are forever my worst enemies. It is your fault, thumb, that I talk the way I do. My pediatrician says it all started with you. Blankie, you brought me nothing but false security; you were never able to protect me.