Words don’t always come easy, not if you are dyslexic
I know its the weekend and everything is a bit of an effort, but you are, (if this post is to make any sense at all; and it will, trust me, I’m a dyslexic) just going to have to stretch your index finger and click on this file about my Dyslexia
I hope that was visual enough for you!
Now that you are back out of the forest, let me see if you read me right, a rough translation.
From the outset I have intended to blog about my dyslexia, but now having turned up at the keyboard to do just that, I will admit to feeling a bit daunted by the task.This has surprised me a little, I think it might be an indicator of how strong my emotions are on the subject.
The last thing I want to do is to give the impression I feel sorry for my self about my dyslexia, I don’t. I am very aware that bits of my ‘dyslexic brain’ give me skills and attributes I would not wish to be with out, but it has also caused me much embarrassment, anxiety, frustration and blood boiling, bile flavoured anger.
I have only known I am dyslexic for about four years, before that I just felt as though I didn’t ‘stack up’ ‘hang together’ a misfit in many ways; I knew bits of mind could fly, and yet I could be felled by simple things that other people took for granted.
I am moderately dyslexic, with a profile of differences between my abilities that is ‘statistically significant, and a discrepancy of this size is not often found among adults of her age’ My family will put it more bluntly, “Bloody typical of you, when have you ever done anything the easy way” and that about sums dyslexia up, it would be nice to take the ‘motorway’ and get to whatever you want to learn, do, achieve quickly but as we all know motorways can be pretty boring, dyslexics have to take a different route, taking the ‘B roads’, ‘green lanes’ and maybe even a bit of ‘off roading’. It might be slower but it’s far more interesting, stop by another day and I’ll take you for a drive round.