When I was little my #SelectiveMutism was a part of my daily life.

It was horrible - but I had never known anything else and so it was my normal.

I thought everyone had it, but that others were just stronger than me, and able to control it.

I was ashamed which made it worse.

Now I think back with so much more knowledge and understanding.

I lived in two worlds.

At home and during school-free time I was mostly mutism-anxiety free. I was strong, brave, and secure in myself.

At school and select other settings it was like entering a different world.

I remember distinctly how I felt, physically, before school, on my way to school - then the moment I arrived at school - and then the moment I left school grounds it changed again.

The moment I passed the fence for the school buses I entered mutism-world.

It was so distinct.

This line of red and white metal fences that ran along the entire school grounds - meant to funnel the kids who came by bus safely on and off the vehicles...that was the border to my world of terror.

I was safe (ish) outside that fenced line...and constantly in danger inside it.

I am realizing tonight that I have not yet worked through my school trauma. That I am only now beginning to truly understand my mutism, my fear, what I experienced at school.

I still can‘t be near my old school without a trauma response.

Speaking at school was SO hard.

My mutism was worse with some teachers than with others.

The worst of them started every lesson with an oral recitation of the textbook pages we had to memorize for homework.

He called my name and I froze.
No word came out my mouth.
Then the teasing.
And another F.
Every time.

There is a blog post demanding to be written here.

But for tonight, tweets will do.

I fought so hard to overcome my mutism.
And I did it all by myself.
I didn‘t have any support, private or professional.

I didn‘t fully succeed.
But I did succeed with that one teacher.

After some horrible years I got a different teacher in that subject.

A nice one. I got consistent Bs.

Then, a couple years later again, the old guy became my teacher again. I felt like I was going to die. But I was also angry. SO angry.

I decided that he could go fuck himself.

He still did the same oral recitation thing he had always done.

And I knew he remembered me.

I knew he‘d pick me.

And so I prepared.

I studied. I memorized. I practiced.
Over and over and over again.

And sure enough, the first time he could, he picked me.
My heart stopped.

Everyone in class remembered I had never managed a word when called upon for oral recitation before.

They looked at me.
It was SILENT.

Suddenly I spoke.
I recited the entire thing.
And answered every single question.

F that guy.

That was my mutism turning point.
It was EPIC.

I wasn’t cured after that.
But that guy didn‘t scare me anymore.

I beat him. And he knew it, too.
He never mistreated me again.

What an asshole.
He didn‘t deserve to teach children.

I will forever remember my moment of triumph.
I felt so empowered. And free.

#SelectiveMutism

I still have Selective Mutism today.

But I know now.

I understand.

I have ways of fighting back, calming myself, controlling my anxiety - and most of the time I can stop it from taking my words away.

And when I can‘t, it‘s okay.
I am kind to myself.
I accept it.

It‘s okay.

I always saw myself as weak during my bad mutism years.

Weak for not being able to do what everyone else seemed to do effortlessly.

But thinking back to it now...I was strong.

I was brave, keeping on despite the terror.

How I managed all alone - that wasn‘t weakness at all.

I wish I had had the support I needed back then.

I shouldn‘t have had to do this all by myself as a child and teenager.

I have the support now, so I know that it makes a huge difference.

But I am proud of myself.
For holding on.
For fighting back.
For finding my strength.