Dear diary,
I still remember the boy who couldn’t speak. He was blonde and blue eyed, and he loved popping in tapes and watching the tv. He was in his own world, and when he got introduced to the world around him, he wasn’t prepared. In fact, soon he would find out he was scared.
Others didn’t know who I was, and I couldn’t tell them. I remember the anxiety and silently groping trying to get my words out. I wanted to speak so badly, but nothing would come out. I remember getting lost and teachers not knowing who I was. I remember getting left outside my Speech Therapist’s door because she refused to see me. I would still stay in my world of happy thoughts, trying to make friends & couldn’t wait to go home.
Because when I went home, they could understand me. They knew what I was trying so desperately to say. It was such an transition from school to home. I use to even fake sick to go home. At this time, my home was more safer than school. Which is sad because school should’ve been safe for me, but at the end of the day, even I knew the school didn’t care about me. I had a great kindergarten teacher who advocated for me, and I still appreciate her to this day.
I’d spend these days outside of a SLP’s room door that never opened, and I’d wait for what will happen next. Will somebody see me? Will they ask me my name again, and will I be able to tell them? I started feeling my anxiety build up that would result in just tension & unwanted thoughts; that the boy who couldn’t speak would’ve been a totally different boy if he could speak.
I hope you are proud of me, five year old self. I hope you are jumping up and down in excitement and pointing at others to look, desperately trying to get out words. I do everything I do now to be the person you needed. You were just a boy filled with kindness and acceptance, and you didn’t know others aren’t always that same way. Your speech was never a mistake nor a flaw, it was the part of your journey and your mission to soon teach the world.
From,
Jordan Christian