The Little Boy Who Couldn't Say Sandwiches

My stammer hasn't made life easy. But it hasn't stopped me.

By Byron, Founder of Vocal Voyage

One Word I Couldn't Say

When I was in primary school, we had to say out loud whether we wanted brechdanau (sandwiches in Welsh) or cinio (dinner in Welsh) for lunch.

I went to an English-medium primary school, but we still used some Welsh words during the school day.

It sounds like such a simple thing, doesn't it?

But for me, it wasn't.

I always had sandwiches. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. But when it came to saying brechdanau, the word just wouldn't come out.

So I found another way.

I'd put one finger up for brechdanau or two fingers up for cinio.

That was my way of answering a question everyone else seemed able to answer without thinking.

I remember feeling like an outsider. Like I was weird. Like there was something different about me that everyone could see.

And the hardest part was that I knew what I wanted to say. I just couldn't say it.

It wasn't about not understanding the question or not knowing the answer.

It was about having the words in my head but being unable to get them out.

And that feeling didn't disappear as I got older.

When Breaktime Was Something to Avoid

By the time I reached secondary school, my stammer was affecting far more than just my speech.

It was affecting my confidence, my friendships and how I felt about myself.

I was bullied because of my stammer.

People laughed at me, called me a weirdo and picked on me because of the way I spoke.

And after a while, I started withdrawing from people.

For most teenagers, breaktime and lunchtime are opportunities to spend time with friends, have a laugh and enjoy a bit of freedom from lessons.

For me, they became something I dreaded.

I remember spending my breaks and lunchtimes with my English teacher because I couldn't face going outside and trying to talk to people.

I felt safe with him.

When so much of my school day involved worrying about speaking, having somewhere I felt comfortable made a difference.

But looking back, it makes me sad that I felt safer spending my breaks inside with a teacher than being outside with people my own age.

I wasn't choosing to be alone because I didn't want friends.

I was withdrawing because I'd been made to feel that the way I spoke was something to be ashamed of.

And the more I withdrew, the harder it became to put myself out there.

That's something people don't always understand about stammering.

It's not just the moments when you can't get a word out.

It's the fear before a conversation even begins. The embarrassment when somebody laughs. The opportunities you avoid because you don't want to experience that feeling again.

My stammer made speaking difficult. But the way other people treated me made it even harder to find the confidence to speak at all.

The Things I Never Thought I'd Do

If you'd told that little boy who couldn't say brechdanau that one day he'd have his own radio show, I don't think he'd have believed you.

If you'd told the teenager who spent his breaktimes avoiding the playground that he'd one day stand in front of people delivering presentations, he'd probably have laughed.

And if you'd told either of them that they'd go on to build a career supporting young people and eventually start a charity?

That would have seemed impossible.

But that's exactly what happened.

I went on to achieve a first-class honours degree in Youth and Community Work.

I've spent over 10 years working with young people, taking on roles as a youth worker and project manager, supporting others through challenges of their own.

I've had my own radio show. I've delivered presentations. And I've founded my own charity, Vocal Voyage.

And the thing I'm most proud of?

I achieved all of that while still having a stammer.

Not because my stammer disappeared.

It hasn't.

I still stammer. I still have difficult days. And there are still moments when speaking feels much harder than I'd like it to.

There are still words I struggle with and situations that make me nervous.

I've faced setbacks, rejection and moments when I've questioned whether I was capable of doing something.

But I've kept going.

I haven't suddenly become someone who finds speaking easy.

I've simply stopped believing that I need to speak perfectly before I can do something meaningful.

And that's made a difference.

Confidence Isn't About Speaking Fluently

Something I've learned over the years is that confidence and fluency aren't the same thing.

You can stammer and still be confident.

You can feel nervous and still try something new.

And you can struggle to find your words while having something important to say.

I don't want to pretend that overcoming those fears is easy. It isn't.

There have been times when my stammer has held me back. Times when I've avoided situations or doubted whether I was capable of doing something.

And even now, I don't always get things right.

But progress doesn't have to mean standing on a stage or speaking into a microphone.

Sometimes it's answering a question in class.

Sometimes it's starting a conversation.

Sometimes it's ordering something for yourself instead of asking somebody else to do it.

And sometimes it's simply finding the courage to try again after a difficult day.

Those things matter too.

For somebody who finds communicating difficult, something that looks small to everyone else can feel enormous.

I know that because I've been there.

Why I Started Vocal Voyage

My experiences growing up are a big part of why I created Vocal Voyage.

I know how isolating communication difficulties can feel.

I know what it's like to have something to say but struggle to get the words out.

I know what it's like to be laughed at, to feel different and to start believing that keeping quiet is easier than risking embarrassment.

And I know how much difference it can make when someone gives you time, listens and doesn't make you feel embarrassed about the way you communicate.

When I think back to my English teacher, I remember how important it was to have somewhere I felt safe.

Someone who made a difficult part of my school day a little easier.

That's something I want Vocal Voyage to offer young people.

Not necessarily a classroom or somewhere to escape to, but a space where they feel comfortable, understood and able to be themselves.

My years working in youth services have also shown me how important it is for young people to have someone who believes in them, particularly when they struggle to believe in themselves.

Because communication difficulties can affect so much more than speaking.

They can affect friendships, confidence, education and the opportunities you feel able to take.

Vocal Voyage exists because I don't want young people to feel they have to face those experiences alone.

We're not here to make everyone speak the same way or tell young people they need fixing.

We're here to listen, offer support, build confidence and help young people recognise their own strengths.

Because there's so much more to a person than how easily their words come out.

My Stammer Is Part of My Story

I won't pretend my stammer has made my life easy.

It hasn't.

There are experiences I wish I'd never had, moments I wish had gone differently and opportunities I might have approached differently if speaking had been easier.

I wouldn't wish some of those feelings on anyone.

But if there's one thing stammering has taught me, it's resilience.

I've been knocked back more times than I can count. I've doubted myself, avoided opportunities and had moments when I've wondered whether things would ever get easier.

But I've always found a way to get back up.

Not every time straight away. Sometimes it's taken longer than I'd like. Sometimes I've needed support from other people.

But I've kept going.

And looking back, I'm proud of that.

My stammer has taught me the importance of listening, of understanding people and of never judging someone by how they communicate.

It's part of why Vocal Voyage exists today.

When I think about that little boy who couldn't say what he wanted for lunch, and the teenager who was bullied, called names and spent his breaks with his English teacher because that was where he felt safe, I wish they could see where life would take them.

A first-class degree. More than a decade working with young people. A radio show. Presentations. Starting a charity.

Things I once thought were impossible.

And none of those things happened because my stammer disappeared.

I still stammer. I still have difficult days. And I know there will be more challenges ahead.

My stammer will always be part of me.

But it doesn't define everything I am, and it doesn't get to decide what I'm capable of.

And if there's one thing I'd want a young person reading this to take away, it's this:

You don't have to speak perfectly to live a life you're proud of.

You don't have to achieve something extraordinary to prove your worth.

And you don't have to wait until communicating feels easier before you start believing in yourself.

You might get knocked down. You might struggle. You might need help getting back up. And that's okay.

Your words matter, even when they're difficult to find.