The headline sounds a little ironic, doesn't it? Yeah, that's what I was thinking when I typed it. But here I am, and here you are, so at least we made it through the awkward stage right? Wrong.

For those who don't know what a stutter even is, Merriam Webster defines it as "to speak with involuntary disruption or blocking of speech (as by repetition or prolongation of vocal sounds)". So basically, someone with a stutter may say apple as a-a-a-a-a-apple. No one knows what causes it, people just have one or they don't. And I just so happen to be one of those people.

Growing up, I hated speaking in front of others. Everyone always stared at me like I was some abstract painting they saw on Tumblr and they were trying to figure me out. I remember my late first-grade teacher Mrs. Fraham, who shut down the whole class when I was speaking just because she saw some boys mimicking me in the corner.

Then, of course, I remember my second-grade teacher telling me that the school was going to "help fix me" when she referred me to the school speech therapist. Imagine being eight years old, and being told they were going to "fix you", cause obviously, I'm that fucked up right?

The next few years were full of on again-off again appointments with speech therapists that the schools thought could "fix me". I started feeling like that broken toy in the bottom of the play bin that kids would avoid because it "was that toy". Bullies were always around... I remember this one kid Justin used to beat me up sarcastically; his favorite line was "I'm gonna p-p-p-p-p-p-punch you", I have to give the guy credit though, at least he was creative.

The years have gotten better, finally working with a speech therapist that wasn't trying to "fix me" because she reminded me what I had forgotten, that I'm not broken, and nothing needs to be fixed. She introduced me to a camp that changed my life and helped me build some sort of confidence. But no matter how amazing things get, there's always been a feeling that I was meant to be seen, just not heard.

For those who think I'm just overreacting and jokes that people like Seth MacFarlane make are all "in good fun", consider this. Every time you open your mouth to speak, you're terrified of what was going to come out. Still seem funny? When movies like "My Cousin Vinny" show someone with a stutter as incapable and not to be taken seriously, it's no wonder so many of us endure the things we do.

This sad reflection on my childhood isn't just some Buzzfeed style click-bait though. I was sitting in my dorm room this afternoon, desperately trying to figure out what to write about for an article, when I came up on a video on Facebook. Conan O'Brien had a comedian on his show last night named Drew Lynch, and he has a stutter.

And as I watched the bit, seeing how the audience embraced him and laughed with him, not at him, I started tearing up. Not out of laughter, but because of how much this meant to so many people. To see someone who talked like I do, speaking to a crowd of people (my natural enemy), and doing it so damn well.

So to Mr. Lynch, thank you for showing the world what people like us can do! And to the other's in the community and even those who aren't, stutter like a rockstar!