The family dinners of my childhood usually included loud, animated discussions about politics, religion, and other societal issues. Well-articulated opinions flew fast and furious. It seemed that everyone at that table but me was dexterous in thought and tongue, while I stuttered and stammered and was convinced I had nothing of value to share. The more stressful the situation, the more pronounced my speech impediment.
At school I avoided attracting attention in the hope that my halting speech and perceived lack of intellectual aptitude could be hidden. The label “day dreamer” kept me off the teacher’s radar in the classroom, and a self-imposed prison of shyness kept me from participating in most extracurricular activities.
To further complicate my situation, while still a teenager I was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, which made mobility difficult. Since my voice had become virtually silent, I had found freedom and expression through dance, and now that was being taken away as well. The medical experts did not offer healing, just management of the degenerative disease. The side effects of the prescribed medications and the bleak prognosis led me to reject what I felt were the empty promises of Western medicine.
