Small Steps

What most stuck with me from our meeting yesterday was the idea of making small changes. It's obvious, I know. We're more likely to succeed if we break a daunting task into small assignments and set ourselves less glamorous but manageable goals. But it's also easy to forget. As stutterers, we want so much to speak fluently that it's hard to take our eyes off that enormous prize and try to figure out what small steps we can take in order to actually get there.

They can be annoying, these tiny steps, because they're so, well, tiny. Often it seems unlikely that they'll actually make a difference. Will it really matter in the long run if I read out loud to myself for a few minutes every day practicing continuous phonation? Can it really count to focus on easy onsets for two or three minutes while I'm having a chat with a trusted friend? If I commit to speaking up at a support group meeting, even if it's just a handful of words? Or keep eye contact for two or three seconds as I stutter?

The answer is yes. All these apparently insignificant things count. They accumulate. They build up into something significant. It's a gradual process, like any kind of growth. For a long time it's hard to see the results. But eventually they do show. You begin to trust more and more in your ability to communicate effectively with others. It's like a muscle: the more you exercise it, the stronger it gets. It's important to be persistent, to push past your limits. But not too much, not too fast, not too hard.

True, sometimes it feels like the work will never be done, the fight will never be won. The day when I can lay down my arms and not struggle so hard seems far away, out of reach. I have to confess I'm a little disheartened by this. But I take comfort and pride in the fact that the more I do the work, the easier it gets. It's a great accomplishment to be strong enough to do it, to have the courage to stick with it day in and day out. It's good preparation for the rest of our lives.