by Elijah Pointer, Grade 12
One of my most memorable
experiences would be the night of and following day before my junior
thesis presentation. That was unquestionably one of the most
foundation-shaking and nerve-wracking experiences of my life.
My thesis itself was
complete; I was just staying up to finish my PowerPoint presentation
and memorize what I was going to say the next day. My eyes were
struggling to stay open and my hands began to cramp, but I had to
work fast because my iPad times out at midnight. My parents were
already asleep, so I would not be able to ask for their help to
unlock it by then. I was only about 75% done with the PowerPoint
when, BOOP! My iPad finally blinked out.
Time froze as my head and
heart immediately began racing with anxiety. There was absolutely
nothing I could do at that point. Even if I managed to finish the
PowerPoint tomorrow before I had my presentation, there was
absolutely no way I could familiarize myself with it to account for
my speech impediment and practice the correct intonation and speed
for every word.
In a moment of sheer panic
and desperation, I foolishly decided to pull off my first all-nighter
on the night of the biggest presentation I had ever done until that
point! I decided to at least try to finish it on a piece of paper to
make copying it onto my iPad tomorrow morning a little easier. While
that did eventually help me get the PowerPoint done later, it blinded
me to the bigger picture.
For someone who could
never successfully pull off an all-nighter even at a sleepover with
friends, video games, and endless caffeine, I managed to stay awake
fairly well. My fear for tomorrow - or rather today, just many hours
away - would keep a stabbing pain in my stomach and a
tremoring in my chest which easily surpassed the potency of caffeine
and fun. For the moment, however, I felt fine. My eyes were starting
to get increasingly droopy, but thanks to my anxiety, I did not have
to fight very hard to stay awake.
Hours of nervous working
passed. Imagine being so tired that you were rendered incapable of
forming a single coherent thought whatsoever. But instead of
sleeping, which would normally follow such a lack of concentration
late at night or early in the morning, your blood was racing, keeping
you in a state of perpetual fuzziness and being unable to shake or
sleep it off. That is what I began experiencing at roughly 3 a.m. My
head was so light, I could have fallen out of my chair, knocked out
in an instant if I was not petrified by my upcoming presentation.
Instead, I was forced to sit up, slowly realizing that I would be
unable to accomplish the one thing I stayed up to do.
At around 4 a.m., the
effects became worse. My worries relentlessly chilled me, and despite
the excessive shaking, I felt I could never stay warm. I considered
trying to get at least 2-3 hours of sleep, but my ever-dwindling
rationale reasoned that such an attempt would be rendered futile by
my fear. I might as well just stay up and continue trying to “focus.”
In a such a sleep-deprived state, I never questioned whether I was
overlooking something more important than my own plans.
It was now 6:30 a.m., and
the rest of my family began waking up. If a fuzzy mind combined with
the possibility of a worsened stutter did not make the situation bad
enough, a genuine stupidity started to settle in. I was so tired that
I actually presumed my speech impediment would be improved because my
now lethargic thinking would match my already sluggish tongue.
“Everything turned out ok after all.” I began to think. “Hey,
I’m not even that nervous anymore. The pain and shaking are finally
gone. Maybe staying up late is the key to always being more relaxed.”
If nearly collapsing from fatigue several times as I readied for
school qualifies as “relaxed,” then I was golden.
The penultimate effect of
my foolish decision took place the moment I left my chair and stood
for the first time since I had determined to stay up all night. I had
felt tired and sleepy until that point, but just then, I immediately
received a feeling of thorough exhaustion which lasted throughout the
rest of my day. “This is not good.” I began telling myself. My
deliriousness responded: “It is ok. It will all help with your
stuttering.” I believed him, and so I went about my day fighting
back fatigue with caffeine. “It will all be over soon.”
I nearly fell asleep in
class twice, I had to walk around, and I often talked with myself to
stay up until 3 p.m., the time I had to give my thesis. I asked Mr.
Sabin if I could skip PE that day to practice my speech. He kindly
assented, and I walked into the gym, finished my PowerPoint, and
began to practice the various intonations and speeds of my voice to
help manage my stuttering. I was nailing it effortlessly. I could say
nearly everything without the slightest hesitation. “Maybe my
sleepiness will actually help me after all.” I thought I was all
set. However, the slowly resurfacing pain in my stomach combined the
sudden onset of constant quakes and jitters from the caffeine and
anxiety alluded to a different outcome.
The time arrived. As I
stoop up to present my speech, I hesitated for what could not have
been more than a few seconds, but what felt like an eternity.
Something was not right. No. Nothing was right! “What was I
thinking?” I said as I suddenly snapped back to sanity, but I could
not turn back now. I began speaking and the final effect of my folly
took place... I stumbled on
every single
syllable. The
sound pierced my ears. “How could I be stuttering? I was saying it
just fine a moment ago. Why is this happening?”
When I stutter normally,
it is on roughly every 4-6 words with 2-4 repeats of only the first
syllable. All of the factors previously mentioned rose those numbers
to the point where I eventually stuttered 3-5 times on basically
every syllable of
every word. When I
practiced without much stuttering, my speech landed at around 8
minutes. That time was easy doubled and surpassed by the end of my
actual presentation. The past 18-something hours that I spent working
to make sure this
didn’t happen
were completely wasted. I put up with a complete lack of sleep,
extreme fatigue in mind and body, and unimaginable anxiety to see a
year’s worth of work fall apart as it left my tongue.
To those who do not have a
speech impediment such as a stutter, you may think I am making big
deal about nothing. I still got a great grade and everyone was very
supportive of my efforts afterwards. But to me, delivering the thesis
was not about getting a good grade; it was about confidently showing
everyone that I put a lot of hard work into something I love.
How can one show he is
confident in his work if he is constantly trembling - if his abdomen
is involuntarily tensing up in a futile attempt to “help” dictate
air flow through his lips? How can one show he is prepared and has
worked hard if he must always stop and pause in his speech - if he
has to change the words around in his head to reduce the staccato
sound, inadvertently adding to it on occasion. How can one show he
loves something if he is unable use expression - if now he is too
busy focusing on the words just being
able to
come out rather than
how they
come out?
By these standards, I had
failed myself in every way possible. The only thing preventing the
venting of my frustration was the fact that everyone was so
supportive. I do not doubt for a second that every person who spoke
kindly to me had the best intentions. I knew they were trying to be
encouraging. However, at the time, every compliment merely served as
salt in my self-inflicted wound.
I told myself that it was
over. There was nothing I could do anymore - all my effort, utterly
wasted. I wrestled with internal frustration initially directed at
myself for being unable to control my speech. Then I dared to angrily
direct it at God and attribute to Him the fault of giving me my
speech impediment in the first place. That was my final mistake. I
simply could not learn the lesson on my own, so God decided He would
teach me personally.
Within that 18 hour
period, my mind was swept away in feelings of fear and filled with
false assumptions leading to physical and spiritual anguish. I had
based my success on how well I controlled something that never was
and ultimately will forever be out of my hands. Through my
self-reliance, I indirectly told God to His face “I do not need
you. I’ll handle this on my own.” And so, He let me handle it -
on my own.
I made poor choices, but
still, His mercy never let me pay the full price. His grace was shown
in my grade and through those who spoke with me afterwards, but I
still felt like I failed. In the end, I did. Not because I fell short
of my expectations, but because I set my will above His that night,
and when it did not work out the way I wanted, I crawled back to Him
with a pointed finger, arrogantly demanding the Righteous Judge for
justice. I simplemindedly questioned His authority to give me such a
thorn as stuttering. I hated it with every fiber of my being and
would have given anything to speak normally, but it would never leave
me. Why did I need such a constant and painful reminder that all my
hard work to fight against it could be undone in an instant? I wanted
an answer, so God kindly took that hand raised against Him and gently
led it to my Bible - not in a crazy-magic-finger-moving way, but in a
soft whisper to my heart that eventually led me to this passage:
“Three times I pleaded
with the Lord about this [thorn], that it should leave me. But he
said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is
made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more
gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon
me.” (2 Corinthians 12:8-9)
It was in that moment that
I finally understood. While I sat at my desk drifting between
consciousness and failing to accomplish my own plan, I was completely
oblivious to God successful putting the pieces of His plan together
to deliver the final fatal blow to my pride that I unknowingly
needed. He gave me my speech impediment so that I would realize I was
focusing on the wrong thing. I should not have been giving my thesis
to satisfy my standards, I should have been giving it to show others
how God gives strength to the weak - to show how even though I was
terrified out of my mind, I went through with it to give the glory to
God, not myself.
My stuttering was meant to
draw me
towards
Him -
to make my stubborn heart realize that I cannot do anything on my
own. I had been seeing my speech impediment as something I needed to
overcome, but now I see it as something I need to embrace. I still
get flustered and frustrated by my stuttering from time to time, but
it constantly reminds me how much I need to rely on God and how much
more, through one as inarticulate as I, His light can shine.
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