The raw sound of a voice that didn't hide

Dear Delyara, I have spent twenty-six years hiding behind emails, text messages, and polite nods because my stutter was so severe that every attempt to speak to a stranger felt like a public execution of my dignity. Today, I forced myself to walk into an upscale gallery in the city center. I looked the director straight in the eye and asked him about his selection criteria for contemporary art jewelry display. My jaw locked twice, my face went hot, and it took me almost a minute to finish the sentence. But I didn't look down, and I didn't use an easier word to escape. I stood my ground and finished my statement. He listened with absolute respect, smiled, and handed me his card. I walked out into the cold Vancouver air, crying tears of absolute triumph. I conquered the ancient terror that kept me mute. I have a voice, and it belongs to me.