A cognitive approach is about thought — specifically, changing a thought. Using my own story as background: I started stuttering around 6 or 7 years old, as do many people who stutter. It's very rare to start stuttering as an adult, unless it's the result of an accident.

I was a very sensitive child, and I talk about that a lot because so many people who stutter are sensitive people. It's a great strength that feels like a weakness — but more on that later.

So I'm 6 or 7 years old, with a 6 or 7-year-old mind. Some adult told me I was stuttering, and I believed them — because children believe what adults tell them. I was put into a special "speech therapy class" in elementary school. I don't remember how often we met, but what I do remember is being taken out of my regular class to sit in a room, on little wooden chairs, with other kids who stuttered — some much worse than me. Whatever we did there, it didn't help.

The only thing it did was reinforce the concept that there was something wrong with me. And I accepted it, because children don't challenge what adults tell them.

I grew up with that thought and kept stuttering and blocking. As many years ago as it was, I will never forget the time in high school when the teacher called on me to answer a question. I stood up next to my desk — which was the rule in those days — and literally nothing came out. Not one word. I couldn't get anything out and I just stood there turning red until I sat down.

By the time I got to college I was in bad shape. I had a really hard time saying my name, especially my last name with the hard "G." I could never say "Gurian." I spent a lot of time in the school psychologist's office because I was so depressed about my speech.

To this day, when I meet someone new I never introduce myself as just "Jeffrey." I always say "Jeffrey Gurian" — because I never want to forget that there was a time when I could not say my own name.

Because I always challenged myself when things made me nervous, I decided to run for President of the Freshman Class at Hunter College. I told myself: if I could win that election, I wouldn't have to stutter anymore — because it would tell me that people liked me.

I was only 16 when I entered college, about two years younger than everyone else. It was a huge school fed by seven different high schools. I got other students to act as my campaign managers, to introduce me to people I didn't know and ask them to vote for me — to get around having to say my name.

Long story short: I won. I was President of the entire Freshman Class. And I still stuttered.

It was a great lesson. It taught me that outside validation doesn't work. It doesn't matter how many people tell you that you're talented, fantastic, and wonderful — what matters is what you think of yourself. That started my journey toward curing myself and attaining fluency. I realized it was my own responsibility to get better.

The most important realization at that time was this: I could speak much better when I was alone than when I was trying to talk to other people.

I consider it Grace that this fact told me something profound: you cannot have a true disability based on your location, or on who's in the room with you.

A man with a limp limps in every room of his house. He can't go into a room alone and walk perfectly — because he has a true disability. But if I could say "Gurian" and any other hard word when I was alone, and say it perfectly, then the truth was that there was really nothing wrong with me.

I set out to prove that — by working very hard to release the thoughts I had been carrying since I was 6 or 7 that told me there was something wrong with my speech.

It's not an easy thing to do, because those old thoughts were very deeply engrained in my consciousness. I believed them for many years. And my subconscious mind — which does not know the difference between fact and fiction — supported those old thoughts and supported the "fact" that I needed to stutter.

Because the subconscious mind doesn't know the difference between fact and fiction, it believes whatever you tell it. If you tell your subconscious mind that you are a loser and that there is something wrong with you, it kind of makes sure that's what you draw into your life. It's that little voice inside your head that tells you that you will never be successful, you will never reach your goal, that you're wasting your time.

The idea is to make that little voice into a whisper — so you can learn to ignore it. If you were in a large crowd and someone was whispering to you, there's a good chance you wouldn't be able to hear what they were saying. The cognitive approach is a gradual way of literally changing your mind, making that negative voice from your subconscious into a whisper, so when it tells you that you need to stutter, you can ignore it and basically tell it to "shut up."

The word "gradual" is very important here, because that's what makes the change permanent. No one can stop stuttering overnight or in a matter of weeks. If you have been holding those thoughts about yourself for a long time — and with some people, for decades — it takes a while until you can convince your subconscious mind to let you go and be free from stuttering.

One of the affirmations I use to reprogram your mind is: "Fluency is freedom." Because it is. Imagine having the freedom to say whatever you want, to whoever you want, in any circumstances — and just be able to do it, like any other fluent person. It's a feeling of tremendous freedom.

I have to admit that before I was able to achieve fluency, I was very scared to stop stuttering. I know that sounds strange. Why would I be nervous to stop doing something I hated?

Because I had been stuttering for so long — who would I be if I didn't stutter anymore? Could I face the world as just Jeffrey Gurian, who used to stutter but decided he didn't have to do that anymore?

I had to work hard to reach the conclusion that yes, I could stop stuttering, and no one would be disappointed. No one would say, "You can't come here anymore if you don't stutter!" I would be just fine.

Attaining fluency and letting go of stuttering also requires an increase in self-esteem and self-confidence. When your self-esteem is strong, you realize that yes — you can face the world as a fluent person and no longer feel the "need" to stutter. I purposely use that word "need," which is also a strange concept.

Every person who stutters knows which letters and words are "hard" for them to say. When those words come up in conversation, they get an internal message: there's a hard word coming up, so get ready to stutter. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's true freedom when those messages become a whisper and you no longer have to pay attention to them.

There's so much more, but I don't want to overwhelm anyone reading this. The important thing is: if this all makes sense to you, then my approach can help you.

The only criterion I use is simple — if you can speak better when you are alone, I feel I can help you.

I look forward to hearing from you and helping you change your mind on your journey to fluency.

— Jeffrey Gurian

Ready to take the first step? Email me at [email protected] for a completely free 20-minute consultation with no obligation. Visit stopstutteringnowgurian.com to learn more about the cognitive approach to stopping stuttering.