Alcohol became a crutch for stammering

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John

John opens up about turning to drink in his younger days to cope with stammering, and how he grew more resilient over time.

When I read the recent news story about Charlie Sheen and his experiences of drinking to cope with stammering, it made me think about the relationship I had between my stammer and alcohol.

In my late teens, when I started going out socially during college and university, alcohol became a kind of crutch for me. Not for fun or escape, but to manage my stammer. I would have a few drinks before meeting up with people, and more while I was out. It wasn't about getting drunk. It was about softening the edges of my speech and masking the stammer that felt so loud in my own head.

In my teens, having a stammer felt like a massive obstacle, especially when it came to speaking to girls. I went to an all-boys school, so I didn't really interact with the opposite sex until college. With that shift, suddenly being in mixed social settings, I was stammering more. It felt like very few people in society even knew what a stammer was. And because of how stammering was portrayed in films and television — often as a sign of weakness, linked to some wider condition, or someone who it was acceptable to ridicule — I didn't want to be seen as someone who had a stammer. 

Alcohol felt like a tool. It helped me blend in and speak without fear of being judged or misunderstood.

I became hyper-aware of it. Having a drink made me feel less conscious and less tense. It gave me a way to explain away the stammer if it came out awkwardly. I would say "I've had a few" and people would laugh or nod, and the moment would pass. If they were drinking too they often didn't notice it at all.

I never drank outside of social occasions. I didn't need alcohol to get through daily life with a stammer. But in social situations, especially with new people, it felt like a tool. It helped me blend in and speak without fear of being judged or misunderstood. At the time, there was no internet and no easy access to peers or support groups. I did eventually find a stammering support group, which was helpful, but I didn't like feeling different. I wasn't ready to confront my stammer head-on.

More in control

Over the years, time and experience slowly helped me find ways to manage things better. I became more comfortable in my own skin and gradually more confident speaking to women, though it was by no means easy. There were awkward moments, missed chances and times I felt like my stammer was holding me back. But I learned to navigate those situations with a bit more resilience each time. I still carried the weight of stammering, but I wasn't as defined by it as I had been in my teens. I started to realise that most people were far more accepting than I had feared, and that gave me a little more courage each time.

What also helped was attending a course by The McGuire Programme when I turned 42. I was already less reliant on alcohol in social situations by then, but the programme helped me face my stammer directly. The techniques and support made a real difference. I began to feel more in control and more confident in social situations.

Now, at 50, my relationship with my stammer has definitely changed. I don't lean on alcohol anymore to meet people or see friends. I've learned to accept it as part of who I am. It no longer defines how I show up in the world. And that feels like progress.

See Help For Your Stammer if you're finding things difficult. Get in touch with us if you want to chat — start a webchat or call our free, anonymous helpline.

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The McGuire Programme is one of the options out there for people who stammer. Full the full range of courses, see Adult Stammering Courses.