I’m 36 at the time of this writing. I started reading books in my mid 20’s. I only started writing and learning to write once I created this blog. It’s a hard thing to bring into into light because I don’t want to be known for it, or pitied. I have dyslexia and auditory processing disorder, and I only found this out in my 30s. All this time I have been struggling and not even comprehend or understood that I’m different. I thought I was just dumb, slow or stupid but I’m not. Here is my story about what it’s like to grow up with dyslexia and auditory processing disorder without even knowing it.
Recently I was talking to my wife about what would happen if our home burnt down. And reflecting on this. The only thing that I would be worried about is losing all my hard drives filled with photographs of our memories. Everything else I couldn’t care about. Like if our home burnt down, I wouldn’t be sad or angry, I’d just be annoyed that I needed to call the insurance company and do all that paperwork. I literally have no attachments to the thing in our home. And my wife said, “I wouldn’t call that a flex, like that’s sad.” But in my mind it isn’t and here is why.
I’m running through the double doors at work, looking at my watch, thinking to myself as I sprit through the hallways “Not again, not this time” as I reach my destination, room 104. I stop, get my breath then swallow, the build-up of salver in my mouth, I reach for the cold silver door handle, turn it an step through. My stomach drops everyone is already there, waiting around a table. One disapproving face looking at me. I’m late for another meeting.