Your Next Chapter: Breaking Free from the Story That Holds You Back

Uri Schneider was my speech therapist when I was 10-12 years old, but our relationship didn't end there. Unlike the typical boundaries we psychotherapists maintain after treatment ends, Uri continued to reach out over the years, genuinely invested in my journey long after our formal sessions concluded.

What I've learned about Uri, both as his young client and in the years since, is that he transcends the role of speech therapist. Through his podcast "Transcending X," he illuminates a universal truth: we all carry something that seems to stand between us and our potential. For many of his clients, it's stuttering, but everyone has their own version of this obstacle—their own X.

We all carry something that seems to stand between us and our potential. Everyone has their own version of this obstacle—their own X.

We're intimately familiar with our X. It's the persistent challenge that colors our daily thoughts, the burden that whispers: "If only this weren't part of my life, everything would fall into place."

During a recent podcast conversation, Uri and I explored how the anticipation of stuttering can become a constant in the minds of those who stutter. I shared about my preteen experience, a time when I felt as though I had a permanent tattoo on my forehead screaming “Stuttering weirdo.” From where I stood then, stuttering was my defining challenge, and I believed that conquering it would unlock a perfectly smooth path forward.

Then came what felt like a miracle in 9th grade. Within months of discovering an effective method, my speech transformed so dramatically it felt like stepping into a new life. Those first months of speaking with ease filled me with such overwhelming gratitude that I made a heartfelt promise to God—I would never complain about anything else, because surely this was the greatest gift I could receive.

What I couldn’t see in those days was how deeply stuttering had shaped my sense of self. Before this transformation, stuttering had consumed my identity. It was my first thought in the morning, my last thought at night, and even the star of my anxiety-fueled dreams. It overshadowed every other aspect of who I was. So when my speech changed, it brought an unexpected question: Without stuttering at the center of my identity, who was I?

People often ask me about this transformation, especially those who witnessed the dramatic shift in my speech. "What happened?" they wonder, seeking a simple answer to a complex journey. While multiple factors contributed to my progress in both confidence and speech, one strategy stands out as particularly transformative: I stopped focusing on X. Instead of fixating on my stuttering—the anticipation, the difficult moments, the perceived failures—I turned my attention to moments of smooth speech. Each time my speech flowed smoothly, I celebrated internally with a mental high five and a heart-warming acknowledgment: "You did it!"

By celebrating moments of success and not dwelling on the times I stuttered, I gradually rewired my brain's narrative. I created a new reality: Yes, sometimes I stutter—and that's okay—but I'm also a smooth speaker. This perspective shift, though counterintuitive for someone who stuttered, became a blueprint for success in countless other areas of my life.

By celebrating moments of success and choosing not to dwell on perceived failures, we gradually rewire our brain’s narrative. We create a new reality.

When Uri recently asked me what I would tell my younger self, my answer came from my heart: "You are so much more than your stutter." That young girl was warm, creative, curious, and a loyal friend—qualities that stuttering had overshadowed by demanding center stage. In a recent support group, Uri asked participants to consider, "Who are you outside of your stuttering?" and "If stuttering weren't occupying your thoughts, what would fill that space?"

You are so much more than your stutter.

I extend these questions to you: What ignites your passion? What brings you joy? How do you connect with others? How do you play? What strengths do you recognize in yourself, and what might others add to that list? Where do you see room for growth? How might you expand your self-image?

What ignites your passion? What brings you joy?

Yes, X can feel overwhelming, but consider the moments when its presence fades or disappears entirely. What exists in those spaces? What's the opposite of your X, and when does it show up? I challenge you to stretch your identity: What new dimensions could you add? What aspects could use more nuance? Is your self-image as expansive as you'd like it to be? If not, what's holding you back?

Your journey to transcend X is your hero's story. But remember, while X may be part of your narrative, it doesn't have to be the whole story. 

 
 

Posted by Naomi Zauderer, Associate at Schneider Speech.
Learn about Naomi Zauder, LCSW.



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