You don't have to struggle with stammering alone, says Nara Miranda, who describes how she is learning to accept her stammering and be proud of who she is.

Struggle, shame, embarrassment, pain, anger, frustration, sometimes many tears? I wonder if you are familiar with these feelings.

My name is Nara. I'm 32 and I have a severe stammer. I moved to England in 2001 from Portugal. I was born in Guinea-Bissau, in North West Africa, but moved to Portugal when I was nine and I have lived there since.

The other day, not long ago, I was talking with my friend William. William is also a stammerer. We are part of this self-help group of four people, and we all live in Brighton. We usually meet once a month for a drink, for a bit of a laugh and, obviously, to talk about our speech and how we're coping with it. Last month, however, there were only William and I. We talked about how having a stammer has affected our lives. We both felt that we would definitely have made so many different choices in life than those we have chosen and that, somehow, we would have made more positive choices had we not had this thing called a stammer.

I suddenly realised that I have always viewed the stammer as a curse in my life. How could I have felt it any different when, at every step of the way, I find all those negative feelings I have just mentioned on the lines above? But I also realised that I have never actually stopped to think where I would be in life (at 32) had I not been a stammerer. Now I find myself reviewing my life as a stammerer, and reviewing that strong concept of this being a curse for me.

I have always been fortunate in that I have never encountered anything other than patience and understanding with my speech - as a child, a teenager and as an adult. Even now at work, where I was meant to be dealing with telephone work as part of my job, my managers and colleagues have accepted that perhaps it can be distressing for me to use the phones, and they are happy for me not to do it. They know that I can make up for it in other ways, which I do. I am forever grateful for this, but it makes me wonder if I have the right to impose this kind of understanding on people because of my speech. But this is another matter. I should add that I'm sure I have had a few bad experiences with people because of my stammer, but again they're too little to be worth mentioning.

So, if other people can deal with my stammer so positively, why can't I? If everyone accepts that I have a stammer and that it is part of who I am, why can't I accept this simple fact myself and live with it? I am learning now that this is what I should do as well.

England has been hugely significant in my process of self-discovery, self-development, and self-acceptance of who I am - the way I am. England has also meant coming across the British Stammering Association. I never thought such a thing existed. An organisation to help and support people who stammer; the most amazing thing! I have also realised that I'm not the only person who stammers. I have met people, so many more than I could expect, who are stammerers and can share exactly how I feel. This is a great support. And, of course, I have made new friends with people who stammer. And this is also very special to me.

Today, as I reflect on all this, I'm tempted to choose another word to classify my stammer: no longer a curse, but perhaps a blessing, because while this 'condition' has brought a lot of pain, it has also brought many fantastic experiences! The stammer is something I should cherish, accept, and of course always work towards improving it if I can. But it is definitely something I should be proud of because it is what my history as a person, as a woman, as a human being, is made of. It is the history of each one of us.

From the Winter 2004 edition of Speaking Out