How my stammer shaped my life, work & my strength

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Wendy

After being rejected from several counselling courses because of her stammer, Wendy Hooker tells us about finding one that didn't see her stammer as a barrier; but rather helped her embrace it.

Living with a stammer has shaped every part of my life — not just the way I speak, but the way I see myself, move through the world and support others as a psychotherapist, practitioner and clinical supervisor. 

After more than twenty years working in NHS mental health and physical health psychology services, and running my own private practice, I know that a stammer is never simply about speech. It is about identity, resilience and the quiet determination to keep showing up in a world that often misunderstands us.

My earliest memories of school are not of lessons or friendships, but of relentless bullying. I was mocked, mimicked and laughed at. I was told repeatedly that I would never make anything of myself. Those words cut deeper than any block or repetition. They became internalised, shaping the story I believed about who I was and what I could achieve. When you are told often enough that your voice doesn't matter, you start to shrink yourself to fit the expectations of others.

And yet, even then, something inside me refused to disappear. A small, stubborn spark insisted that I was more than the assumptions made about me. That spark would become the foundation of everything that followed.

Barriers that should never have existed

When I decided I wanted to train as a counsellor, it felt like I finally knew who I was and what path I was meant to follow. But the world did not welcome that ambition. I was rejected from several counselling courses explicitly because of my stammer. I was told 'I wouldn't cope', that clients 'wouldn't understand me' and that therapy was 'not the right profession' for someone like me.

Each rejection echoed my school years. It reinforced the message that my voice was a flaw and something that disqualified me from the work I knew I wanted to do. But that spark kept burning, sometimes through anger, sometimes through determination. I knew I could do this.

When you are told often enough that your voice doesn't matter, you start to shrink yourself to fit the expectations of others.

Eventually, I found a training programme that didn't see my stammer as a barrier. They saw me, my empathy, my determination and my capacity to connect. Once given the chance, I flourished. I passed almost everything with distinction. I found confidence not by hiding my stammer, but by embracing the depth of understanding and compassion it had carved into me. That acceptance changed the course of my life.

A career built through persistence & self‑belief

After qualifying, I secured my first counselling role, a moment that felt like reclaiming every part of myself that had ever been dismissed or underestimated. Since then, I have worked across NHS mental health and physical health psychology services, oncology, palliative care, bereavement, workplace wellbeing and private practice. I later completed an MSc in Psychotherapy, again graduating with distinction and went on to become a clinical supervisor.

Today, I run my own private practice, supporting clients with a wide range of physical health, emotional and psychological challenges. My work is grounded in authenticity, compassion and the belief that every person deserves to be heard — values shaped directly by my own lived experience.

There is a beautiful irony in the fact that I have built a career around talking... My voice — stammer and all — is the tool I use every day to help others find theirs.

And yes, I still stammer. People still make assumptions. They still sometimes underestimate me before I've even finished a sentence. Even now, with decades of experience, I sometimes have to work harder than others to be recognised for the therapist I am. But my stammer has never diminished my ability to connect, to understand or to help people heal. If anything, it has strengthened it.

The emotional weight of a stammer

Those who don't stammer often assume it is simply a speech difference. But those of us who live with it know the emotional landscape is far more complex. A stammer can affect:

• Self‑esteem, especially when fluency is wrongly equated with intelligence or competence
• Identity, because we are constantly navigating how others perceive us
• Anxiety, not about speaking itself, but about the reactions we anticipate
• Belonging, because communication is such a fundamental part of connection.

The psychological impact can be profound. Many of us learn to avoid speaking, to mask, to shrink ourselves to make others more comfortable. But over time, that shrinking becomes a kind of self‑erasure.

What helped me reclaim myself was not fluency, but resilience, self‑belief and a deep sense of who I am beyond the way I speak.

Talking is my job & my power

There is a beautiful irony in the fact that I have built a career around talking. Not 'perfect' talking. Not fluent talking. Authentic talking. My voice — stammer and all — is the tool I use every day to help others find theirs.

I often say that healing begins when we stop fighting who we are and start allowing ourselves to be enough. It is a message I had to learn for myself, and one I now pass on with conviction.

One of my favourite quotes, by Carl Rogers, captures this perfectly: "I am more than good enough, if only I would allow myself to be so".

To anyone who has been told they can't

If you have ever been told you cannot do something because of your stammer or if you have told yourself that, I invite you to hear this clearly:

You can.

You are not defined by fluency. You are not limited by the assumptions of others. You hold potential that is bigger than any hesitation, block or repetition.

Your voice matters. Your story matters. And you are more than enough.

If you would like to contact Wendy, email us editor@stamma.org and we'll pass your message on.

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