On having dyslexia
I can remember as clear as the day it occurred my mother calling me stupid. I was about 9 years old at the time and I knew I wasn’t. No one knew about dyslexia back then. The frustrating thing was that my English books kept coming back with low scores for spelling and the responsibility was on my parents to improve it.
The reason I knew I wasn’t stupid was that I was a very high achiever as far as reading was concerned. Being a book monitor, I had read through the whole school book system, to the point they had run out of books for me to read.
Reading in public since 7
Asked to read the prayers and lessons during assembly and had won a prize for my handwriting skills. I also was one of the top girls in Maths and knew I wasn’t stupid. My mother found it difficult to grasp why her youngest took after her father when it came to spelling and it was another 10 years before I was officially diagnosed as being dyslexic.
I found out whilst a student at Oxford Brookes. I studied Architecture – a subject which I could draw not write about. Psychology was something I really enjoyed and used to volunteer for Oxford University psychology labs on Parks Rd. I was marking some papers when I realised that the spelling test I was marking looked remarkably like my own interpretation of how words should be written. Intrigued, I asked what they were testing for – Dyslexia. I asked if I too could take the test and I did – the results – I was dyslexic. Phew! A diagnosis at last.
Diagnosis Dyslexic
I had two choices at this point. Become complacent and not bother – I couldn’t spell so what’s the point in trying – or to become a fighter. This was before computers and spell checkers and I have to admit, they were an absolute godsend for me. Over the years I have used every tool out there to help me write more and more.
Still, though there are many spelling Nazi’s who treat you like dirt if you get the grammar wrong or make any mistyping. (BTW, when I read a work like mistyping, I don’t see it as mis-typing, I see it as misty-ping)!!! This is for you.
The kind of dyslexia I suffer from means I cannot hear the sounds of the words correctly and when I read some words the emphasis is in the wrong place – see above.
I’ll give you an example.
B & V – I often hear these the same way. I need context for my brain to make sense of them.
Vane & Bane
Vain & Bain
Vend & Bend
Do you get the picture? A vending machine has items for sale in it. A bending machine helps you bend something. I hear that in the same way, my brain has to work out whether a vending machine is going to offer me up crisps or help bend metal bars.
Another combination I cannot distinguish are D & J
A dustman and a just man sound exactly the same. Words like adjustment really screw with my head.
M & N are the same. Chimney is mostly mumbling to me! Nanometre, Manometer completely different things but my brain hears the same thing. Of course, nanometre is a unit of measurement and manometer is an instrument which measures pressure.
Accents throw me
Often I have to listen to the word in full context to understand it’s meaning and so can often look into space whilst my brain is whizzing through all the possibilities of the word. I often compensate by lipreading, as I find how the mouth makes the word gives me the biggest clue, but that’s almost impossible over the phone. This is why I hate and loath phoning people. If you throw a strong accent into the mix and everything sounds total gobbledegook. Not all accents though. Eastern English accents such as Norfolk and Geordie not too bad. Western like Manchester, Liverpool, Brum or Welsh often leave me puzzled. Bristol isn’t too bad but certain Indian or African accents can throw me.
It’s tiring and can be quite stressful. I can understand why people think I’m slow sometimes, because if asked a question my brain is trying to work out the question first, go to my memory banks, recognise whether I am familiar and understand what is said then come back to give an answer. No wonder learning a different language has always been impossible for me. I can often read different languages but cannot hear them. Throw in my tinnitus as well and it’s surprising you get any response from me at all at times.
Seeing dyslexic clients
Strangely, as a therapist, I often see male students around the age of 15 with some form of autism who also suffer from dyslexia too. Their confidence is undermined. They often feel stupid, though in their hearts they know they can knock the spots off their peers with their maths skills. I help them not to suffer other people prejudices (another word impossible in my brain to spell first time) but to embrace the skills they do possess.
It reminds me of a quote about Churchill when drunk.
Sir, you are drunk
Madam, you are ugly but in the morning I shall be sober.
So
Madam You’re stupid you cannot spell
Becomes,
Sir you’re ignorant, but I have a degree, have held down many complicated computer programming and design jobs – so nurrgh! (blows raspberry)!