Finding My Voice: How Jonathan Groff Helped Me Silence My Stammer
Imagine living your life with a constant battle in your head, where every word feels like a mountain to climb. That was my reality, thanks to a stammer that had controlled me since childhood. But here’s where it gets inspiring—a chance encounter with Broadway’s Jonathan Groff became the catalyst for my transformation. And this is the part most people miss: it wasn’t just his talent that moved me; it was his unapologetic authenticity.
It all started during a teacher training stint in the remote wilds of Donegal. While my peers were engrossed in Gaelic sports and pints, I found solace in Broadway musicals. That’s when I stumbled upon Merrily We Roll Along, starring Groff and Daniel Radcliffe. Like much of the internet, I was hooked. But my fascination went beyond the music; it was Groff’s effervescent personality that captivated me. His infectious joy, his warm smile, and that voice—smooth as melted chocolate—made me both admire and envy his ease in the world.
Contrast that with my own reality. My stammer had been my shadow since I was a child. It dictated my life, making simple tasks like phone calls or ordering in shops feel insurmountable. I couldn’t even say my own name without stumbling. Kids would laugh, adults would pity me, and I felt invisible. My humor, my opinions—all trapped behind a wall of words I couldn’t speak. Teaching, a profession I loved, became a daily humiliation. My mouth ached by the end of each day, and I felt like a failure because my students couldn’t understand me. I jokingly called myself ‘Porky Pig having a stroke,’ but the truth was far from funny.
After failing teacher training, my therapist suggested the McGuire Programme, a course promising to retrain my speech. I was skeptical. My stammer was emotional, rooted in childhood trauma and anxiety. How could breathing techniques fix that? But desperation led me to sign up for a course in Reading.
The night before my flight was a nightmare. Physical symptoms of fear—stomachaches, back pain, nausea—plagued me. I was on the verge of canceling when, at 3 a.m., I clicked on a Jonathan Groff interview. The question was about his decision to come out. Groff shared how fear for his career had held him back, but love gave him the courage to embrace his truth. In that moment, something shifted inside me. Could I find that courage too?
The McGuire Programme was grueling—four 14-hour days of breathing exercises and repetition. But it worked. The final challenge? Approaching 100 strangers to disclose my stammer. Terrifying, yes, but what I discovered was profound. Strangers were kind. They listened. They understood. For the first time, I felt seen. I made jokes, introduced myself confidently, and even embraced sarcasm—things I’d never thought possible. Like Groff, acceptance set me free.
That night, under a sky full of stars, I felt reborn. The joy was almost overwhelming. I thought of Groff’s character Franklin Shepard in Merrily, singing, ‘It’s our time, breathe it in. Worlds to change and worlds to win.’ Those words resonated deeply. It was my time.
Today, while my stammer isn’t completely gone, I’m lighter, bolder. I’m taking drama classes, making phone calls, and asking for directions without shame. I’m stepping into the world as my authentic self. But here’s the controversial part: Is it enough to just ‘manage’ a stammer, or should we aim to eradicate it entirely? What do you think? Share your thoughts below—let’s spark a conversation about self-acceptance and the power of inspiration.
