Sometimes I wish I could just go back in time to when selective mutism wasn’t in control of my life. Up until I was 5 years old, I could talk freely, and my parents even used to say that I was a chatterbox, but as soon as I started primary school, something changed. It was as if someone had sealed my lips shut, and I had no idea why.
I still remember the unbearable fear I felt every time I was expected to speak in class. My heart would beat so fast that I thought it could explode at any second and my body would go into freeze mode, leaving me unable to do anything but sit there in silence. The confused looks on my classmates’ faces only made things worse, and it felt as if I was constantly being controlled and manipulated because I wasn’t like them. I could still talk freely at home and to a few close friends when no one else was around, but when anyone was near, I would retreat back into being silent.
The school were convinced that I was simply ‘extremely shy’ and that I’d just outgrow it, but this wasn’t the case. In Year 2, I was pulled out of class for weekly reading sessions with a teacher, supposedly to help my confidence around speaking, but instead it had the opposite effect. I’d get this awful feeling in my stomach whenever I had a session, and I started dreading school because of it. During the sessions, we’d take in turns reading sentences, but whenever it was my turn, I would panic. My palms would get all sweaty, my face would go bright red, and my heart would start to race. I’d somehow manage to force out the words, but it was a struggle. Every sentence felt like a fight, and it became a living nightmare. It was almost as if the worse the experience I had with talking, the more I began to lose myself, like I was disappearing into the silence. All I wanted was to be able to talk like everyone else, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get over this fear of speaking.
The school tried everything to break me out of this habit, but it backfired every time. They even tried putting me in a drama club thinking it would help me become more confident, but it only added to my fear of talking in front of everyone. The thought of having to perform in front of a hall full of people was terrifying. Even rehearsals were a struggle – I’d freeze up, go into panic mode, and my memorised lines would remain unsaid. The possibility of being watched and judged by anyone was unbearable and, when the words refused to come out, it became even more embarrassing. By the time the actual performance arrived, I was so overwhelmed with fear that I refused to take part and, yet again, I let my anxiety win.
When I was 10 years old, I started seeing a psychiatrist and finally got diagnosed with SM. It explained so much and it helped me to understand myself better because, for so long, I thought I was the only one who struggled with this overwhelming fear.
Despite now being diagnosed, things only got worse in secondary school. Due to the size of the school, hardly any of the staff were made aware of my diagnosis, so my teachers would constantly pick on me to answer questions in front of the whole class, which made going to school a daily struggle. The anxiety was suffocating me and it felt like I couldn’t escape.
Registers became my worst nightmare, and I’d freeze up every time, unable to utter a sound. My classmates would stare, wondering why I stayed silent, and the possibility of drawing attention to myself by not responding was terrifying. Time and time again, teachers would notice my silence but still demand me to speak. It would all become too much, and on some days, it would get to the point where I’d break down into tears and embarrass myself even more. I was too ashamed to even tell my parents that this was happening, so I just put on a brave face and pretended everything was fine, while inside, I was silently screaming.
But then lockdown happened and suddenly the pressure was off, no more school and no more pretending. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a temporary fix and it gave me a strange sense of relief being able to escape the pressures of school for a while.
At home I could be myself and, for the first time in a long while, I could talk freely without letting SM control me. But when lockdown ended, the pressures came flooding back and it felt like I was drowning all over again.
The teachers were still trying desperately to get me to talk, as if they couldn’t see the effect it was having on me. It was as though they seemed to think I was choosing to be silent and that, by purposely picking on me regularly, I’d somehow snap out of the habit and speak like everyone else. Instead, their efforts didn’t help me to find my voice; they just made me more afraid to try.
I’d lay awake at night replaying the day’s humiliations in my head, reliving every awkward moment and dreading having to go through it again the next day. My mind was so consumed by panic and fear that it became impossible to focus on anything else.
One day in year 9, I had a horrible panic attack before school one morning. Everything got completely overwhelming – my heart was pounding, I couldn’t breathe, and it felt like the whole world was crashing down on me. I refused to go to school that day, and my parents realised how bad things had gotten. I started skipping school more often, and it became a vicious cycle that I couldn’t escape from.
The school were desperate to keep my attendance up and tried everything from making the staff aware of my SM, to reduced timetables, but it wasn’t enough. I still had to face the classmates who mocked me during lessons, and the fear of drawing attention to myself in any way was terrifying.
Yet again, I started to skip school, and it felt like the more time I had off, the harder it was to return, until eventually, I stopped attending all together. I then spent about a year out of school and it was during this time that I gradually stopped speaking at home almost completely. I’m not sure exactly why this happened, but I remember feeling trapped in my own mind, unable to share my struggles with anyone.
After this, I got a place in a SEMH school and finally things started to turn around. Without ever feeling pressured to speak, I was given the time to take things at my own pace, and gradually, I was able to find my confidence again. Eventually, I started speaking to a handful of trusted people in the school, both students and staff. This was a huge step and one that I never thought I’d achieve, but thanks to the supportive environment, I was able to find my voice. I still wasn’t able to speak in class, but at least I wasn’t completely silent anymore.
Fast forward to college, and further education, I’ve been able to build on this progress, learning to express my thoughts with a select few. I still struggle with SM on a daily basis but, compared to how things were a few years ago, I’d say things have improved a lot and I look forward to the day I can properly voice my thoughts and feelings.
© SMiRA & Anon. 2025
