illustration by maya, age 7-ish
I was reminded by something I read today that I am dyslexic. Not that you can forget something like that...but you do push the "label" away...under the bed, in the closet....etc.
I always knew that something wasn't quite right.
Particularly in junior highschool when I decided that I couldn't cope with school and tried to leave (but thanks to a great teacher I didn't).
Being dyslexic is just seeing things a bit different from the majority of the world. When I was tested and given the verdict, nearly a decade ago, I was terrified and relieved at the same time.
Weird combination of feelings.
I was hesitant at first to write this kind of thing here...had to fight a little voice in my head saying "no, its too much embarassing personal information for it to be displayed on a public diary". But I decided to ignore it, hoping that someone that might be as muddled up as I was some years ago might read this.
Dyslexia has been a blessing, although I must admit I didn't think so for a long time.
I wouldn't be able to do the things I do, especially creatively without it, I think.
Not that non-dyslexic artists are not creative, but in my case it pushed me in the right direction- to follow my dreams and see the world upside down, a little twisted at times but eventually pulled into a gorgeous pink - potters pink :) -rose, that I can paint and smile about.
It also has made me into the most stubborn person I know- If someone says something is impossible, i HAVE to do it!!
Maybe thats a teeny tiny little bit of a reason, why I am writing my book.
But dear reader...please don't tell any one I said so. :)