Introduction

I always had difficulty reading and writing from a young age. Words would dance across the page like restless butterflies, refusing to stay still long enough for me to capture their meaning. I didn't think I was different from everyone else, but I did think that I wasn't putting in enough effort. Even when I stayed up late into the night, eyes burning from exhaustion as I tried to make sense of my textbooks, I couldn't do well on exams.

Gradually, I stopped putting effort into studying because it felt pointless like trying to climb a mountain with no handholds. It wasn't just one subject it was almost everything related to reading and writing. My mind would wander, not from lack of interest, but from the sheer mental exhaustion of trying to focus on symbols that seemed determined to rearrange themselves before my eyes.

Words would jumble together on the page, letters would flip and reverse (was that a 'b' or a 'd'?), and sentences that seemed clear to others were like complex puzzles to me. I'd spend hours trying to understand what others could grasp in minutes. The frustration was overwhelming, a constant companion that whispered doubts into my ear. But I assumed this was normal that everyone struggled this way, and I just wasn't trying hard enough, wasn't smart enough, wasn't enough.

But there was one thing that kept me going: my passion for technology. Every time I looked at something in the tech field, my heart would race with excitement. I'd think, "Wow, how did they do that?" Even programming, which was difficult for me to learn with all its precise syntax and logic, became something I couldn't stop thinking about. The code on my screen sometimes blurred together, but the satisfaction of solving a problem, of creating something from nothing but my own thoughts that clarity was addictive. Despite the challenges, I kept pushing through. It wasn't easy, but I made it, one line of code at a time.

The Discovery

For a long time, I didn't think much of my struggles. In fact, I thought it was just the way I was perhaps not as naturally intelligent as my peers, or simply not cut out for academic success. But something changed about six months ago. I started questioning why I still had such trouble, even after putting in effort to improve. It didn't make sense to me anymore. Why could I understand complex programming concepts but struggle to read a paragraph without getting lost?

One day, while chatting casually on Discord about my frustrations with reading, I talked to someone who happened to be a psychiatrist. After listening to my experiences, they suggested something I hadn't considered before: "You might have dyslexia." The word hung in the air, unfamiliar yet somehow fitting. At first, it sounded strange dyslexia was something I'd heard about but never connected to myself. But it made me curious, like finding a potential key to a door I'd been banging against for years.

So, I took the advice and booked an online appointment with a psychologist. The evaluation process was thorough tests that measured my reading speed, comprehension, and how I processed written information. After a few sessions of assessments and discussions about my educational history, I was officially diagnosed with dyslexia. The moment the psychiatrist confirmed it, I felt a strange mix of emotions wash over me relief, confusion, sadness, and a peculiar sense of validation.

The diagnosis was both a relief and a new challenge. Finally, there was a name for what I had been experiencing all these years a reason why reading and writing had always been such a struggle. It wasn't that I wasn't trying hard enough; my brain was literally processing information differently. But at the same time, it meant accepting that this was something I would have to deal with for the rest of my life. This wasn't a temporary obstacle I could overcome with enough determination it was a fundamental part of how my brain worked.

Since my diagnosis, the only people who know about my dyslexia are my psychologist and me. I haven't told anyone else, not even my parents or closest friends. To be honest, it's been really hard to accept. Sometimes it feels like a weight I can't shake off, a secret identity I'm not ready to embrace. At 17, I thought I had everything figured out my struggles were just temporary setbacks on my path to success. Now I'm faced with the reality of having something that I didn't even know existed in my life until recently, something that has been silently shaping my experiences since I first tried to read.

The Struggle

Even in my own native language, reading and writing have always been an enormous struggle. It feels like a completely different level of difficulty almost like an alien language to me. The characters seem to shift and change as I look at them, refusing to stay in place long enough for me to make sense of them. Reading a single page can take me three times longer than my classmates, and by the end, I'm mentally exhausted, with only a fragmented understanding of what I've read.

Strangely enough, I picked up English more easily. I don't even know how, but I did. Perhaps it was because I approached it differently, without the pressure and expectations that came with my native language. Or maybe the structure of English just works better with how my brain processes information. Whatever the reason, I think I'm pretty decent at it, but when it comes to my native language, I just can't grasp it in the same way. It's like trying to hold water in my hands no matter how tightly I cup my fingers, it always slips through.

It's not like I haven't tried. I have. I've put in the effort until my eyes burned and my head ached. At one point, I spent months trying to learn it properly understanding the characters, learning how to pronounce words correctly, how to read and write. I created flashcards, recorded myself reading aloud, and even tried tracing characters repeatedly to build muscle memory. But even after all that time and effort, it still didn't stick. Even now, I struggle with it. No matter how much effort I put in, it feels like my brain just doesn't process it the way it should.

When I see my native language on an exam, my heart sinks to my stomach. I already know the outcome I'm going to fail. There's no confidence, no second thoughts. Just the certainty of failure looming over me like a dark cloud. I've put in months of effort trying to improve, staying up late to study while my friends were out having fun, but it didn't work out the way I hoped. I didn't suddenly become good at it. I thought maybe if I tried hard enough, I could get better, but now, I don't have any hope left. If my native language shows up on an exam, I know I'm doomed before I even start.

The anxiety that comes with this struggle is overwhelming. In the past three months, things have only gotten worse. Now, even looking at the characters fills me with anxiety my palms sweat, my heart races, and my mind goes blank. When I try to practice, it doesn't feel like progress it feels like I'm staring at something completely foreign, something my brain refuses to recognize. The more I look at the characters, the worse my anxiety gets, spiraling into a vicious cycle of fear and avoidance. I've even had panic attacks while trying to study them moments where I couldn't breathe, where the room seemed to close in around me, and all I could think was, "I can't do this. I'll never be able to do this."

The Conflicting Feelings

It's hard to accept that this is my reality, but part of me also feels like now I can blame everything on dyslexia. I know it's not healthy to put all the blame there, but sometimes it feels easier. Like when I failed my country's most important exam, the one that determines which university you can attend, I felt like I was nothing. I felt like I had no worth, like all my dreams were crumbling before my eyes.

At the time, it felt like the dyslexia was the reason I couldn't perform well. The words on the test paper seemed to shift and blur, and no matter how much I had studied, I couldn't access the information when I needed it most. It was hard to accept that, despite my efforts the late nights, the practice tests, the tutoring sessions things still went wrong. Blaming dyslexia helped ease my heart a little, because it felt like something outside of me that I couldn't control. It wasn't my fault; it was my brain's wiring.

But deep down, I also know that it wasn't just dyslexia. There were moments when I didn't try hard enough, when I gave up too easily because I expected to fail. There were times when I could have asked for help but was too embarrassed, too afraid of being seen as different or less capable. I've realized that sometimes it's not just about blaming external things, but also recognizing where I could have done more. It's a tough balance acknowledging my condition while also holding myself accountable for the things that are within my control.

Some part of me feels incredibly grateful for having dyslexia. I know it sounds strange, like thanking a thief for stealing your possessions, but if I hadn't struggled with reading and writing, I might never have discovered my passion for technology. If I had been more focused in my studies or passed that exam with flying colors, I would have followed the traditional path that was expected of me. I would never have met my mentor, who saw potential in me when I couldn't see it in myself. I wouldn't have spent countless hours teaching myself to code, finding joy in creating something that worked despite my struggles with text. I wouldn't have grown the way I have as a developer, finding creative solutions to problems because I've had to think differently my entire life. It's almost as if dyslexia pushed me into a path I wasn't expecting, but one that ultimately brought me here, to where I am today pursuing something I truly love.

But, at the same time, I really hate it. I can't ignore the frustration of not being able to do things as easily as others. I hate the feeling of panic when a teacher calls on me to read aloud in class, the embarrassment of stumbling over words that everyone else seems to read effortlessly. I hate the extra hours I have to put in just to achieve what comes naturally to others. I still face difficulties, and some days it feels like it holds me back from reaching my full potential. I don't know what to feel about it sometimes I'm thankful, but other times I resent it so much that I can feel the anger burning in my chest. It's a constant battle between these two emotions, gratitude and resentment, and I'm not sure if I'll ever fully reconcile them.

The Decision to Keep Trying

With my native language, I even considered dropping out multiple times. The frustration was so overwhelming that I just couldn't see a way forward. I remember one particularly bad day after failing yet another test. I came home, threw my backpack against the wall, and told my father I was done. I couldn't do it anymore. He told me to try only for the years ahead, to take it one step at a time.

It's not that I don't want to study I really do. I want to do well. I want to get into a good college and pursue a bachelor's degree in computer science. I dream of completing university with a CS major and building a career in tech, creating software that might help others like me. I imagine myself working at a tech company, contributing to projects that matter, or maybe even starting my own company someday. Technology has always been my passion, and I know that if I can just push through, I'll be able to achieve my goals.

But the problem is, sometimes I feel like I can't. Every time I try, I struggle so much with my native language and subjects like social studies that it’s discouraging. These subjects require extensive reading and writing precisely the skills that dyslexia makes difficult for me. I've tried and tried, but I can't help but feel like I’m just not cut out for it. This doubt keeps growing inside me, like a shadow stretching longer as the day progresses, and I begin to question whether I will ever be able to succeed in school, especially with all the hurdles I face.

For a while, I thought about dropping out. The pressure of failing again, especially in subjects that challenge me the most, made quitting seem easier than continuing to fight against something that constantly holds me back. I wondered if I would ever achieve my dreams if I kept going like this. The thought of giving up crossed my mind many times, especially on those nights when I stared at my textbooks for hours, understanding nothing, feeling like I was wasting my time.

Coping Mechanisms

Now that I've had some time to process my diagnosis, I'm starting to find a balance. I'm learning that dyslexia doesn't define me, even though it sometimes feels like it's a big part of my life. It's been a journey of acceptance, and I'm slowly coming to terms with it. Some days are better than others there are still moments when I feel overwhelmed by the challenges, but there are also days when I feel empowered by the unique way my brain works.

I'm still figuring out how to manage it day by day, but I've started to focus more on what works for me rather than trying to force myself into a traditional way of learning or working. I've discovered that I learn best through a combination of visual, auditory, and kinesthetic methods. When I can see, hear, and do something, it sticks much better than when I just try to read about it.

The tools I've been using have been game-changers for me. Speechify and TextVoice have become my constant companions, turning text into speech so I can listen to articles, books, and even my own notes. It's amazing how much more I can absorb when I'm not struggling to decode the words on the page. I use these tools for everything now from reading news articles to studying for exams. Instead of spending hours trying to read a chapter from my textbook, I can listen to it while taking a walk or doing chores, which not only saves time but also reduces the anxiety and fatigue that comes with reading.

Practical Tools and Resources

Over the past few months, I've discovered several tools and resources that have made a significant difference in how I manage my dyslexia. Here are some of the most helpful ones:

Text-to-Speech Tools

• Speechify: Converts any text into natural-sounding speech
• TextVoice: Great for reading web pages and documents
• Natural Reader: Excellent for reading PDFs and ebooks
• Voice Dream Reader: Works well with various file formats

Writing Assistance

• Grammarly: Helps catch spelling and grammar errors
• Dragon NaturallySpeaking: Voice-to-text software
• Ginger: Another writing assistant with dyslexia-friendly features
• Microsoft Editor: Built into Word and Edge

Reading Tools

• OpenDyslexic Font: A free font designed to help with reading
• BeeLine Reader: Adds color gradients to text to help track lines
• Read&Write: Comprehensive literacy software
• Chrome Extensions for Dyslexia: Various tools to modify web text

Organization Tools

• MindMeister: For creating mind maps
• Notion: Flexible note-taking and organization
• Trello: Visual task management
• Evernote: Digital note-taking with voice recording

Study Aids

• Quizlet: For creating flashcards and study sets
• Khan Academy: Video-based learning
• Duolingo: Interactive language learning
• Coursera: Online courses with video content

Mobile Apps

• Dyslexia Toolbox: Collection of helpful tools
• Dyslexia Quest: Games to improve reading skills
• Claro ScanPen: Scan text and have it read aloud
• Voice Notes: Quick voice recording for ideas

Browser Extensions

• Dyslexia Unscrambled: Adjusts text for better readability
• Helperbird: Customizes web pages for accessibility
• Mercury Reader: Simplifies web pages
• Color Enhancer: Adjusts screen colors for better contrast

Learning Platforms

• Udemy: Video-based courses
• edX: University-level courses
• YouTube Educational Channels: Visual learning resources
• Codecademy: Interactive coding tutorials

These tools have become essential parts of my daily routine. They don't "fix" my dyslexia, but they help me work with it rather than against it. I've found that using a combination of these tools works best for me what helps one day might not be as effective the next, so having options is crucial.

The Role of Technology in My Journey

My passion for technology has been more than just a career interest it's been a lifeline throughout my struggles with dyslexia. When traditional education felt like an insurmountable obstacle, coding offered me a different path, one where I could excel despite my reading difficulties.

I still remember the first time I successfully ran a program I had written. It was a simple "Hello, World!" script, but the feeling of accomplishment was indescribable. In that moment, I wasn't defined by what I couldn't do, but by what I had created. That feeling became addictive I wanted more of it, more of that sense of capability and achievement.

As I delved deeper into programming, I discovered that many aspects of it actually played to my strengths. Dyslexia often comes with enhanced spatial reasoning and creative problem-solving abilities, which are invaluable in coding. When I'm debugging a program, I can visualize the flow of data and the structure of the code in a way that helps me identify issues quickly. My tendency to think non-linearly, which can be a disadvantage in traditional reading, becomes an advantage when designing algorithms or architecting software systems.

I've found communities online where I can share my projects and learn from others without the pressure of perfect spelling or grammar. Platforms like GitHub, Stack Overflow, and coding Discord servers have become safe spaces where I'm judged by my code, not my writing abilities. In these spaces, I've connected with mentors who have guided me, peers who have collaborated with me, and even a few individuals who, like me, are navigating the tech world with learning differences.

One of my most meaningful projects was a simple browser extension I created that applies dyslexia-friendly formatting to web pages. It changes fonts, adjusts spacing, and modifies colors to make online reading easier for people like me. It's not perfect, and it's not widely used, but knowing that it might help even one other person makes me proud. It's a tangible example of how my challenges have given me a unique perspective and the motivation to create solutions that might not otherwise exist.

Technology has also provided me with tools that have made my educational journey more manageable. Text-to-speech software, as I mentioned earlier, has been invaluable. But there are also dictation tools that allow me to write by speaking, grammar checkers that catch the errors I might miss, and organizational apps that help me keep track of assignments and deadlines. These technological aids have leveled the playing field somewhat, allowing me to demonstrate my knowledge and abilities without being held back by the mechanics of reading and writing.

My dream is to continue this journey, to pursue computer science in college and beyond. I want to be part of creating the next generation of assistive technologies, tools that might help others overcome their own challenges. I believe that technology should be accessible to everyone, regardless of how their brains process information, and I want to contribute to making that a reality.

So, I've decided to keep going. I'm applying to colleges with strong computer science programs, but I'm also looking for institutions that offer support services for students with learning differences. I'm being more open about my needs and advocating for accommodations that will help me succeed. And I'm continuing to develop my programming skills independently, building a portfolio that demonstrates my abilities in ways that transcend traditional academic metrics.

It's not an easy path, and I know there will be more obstacles ahead. But I also know that each challenge I overcome makes me stronger, more resilient, and better equipped to face the next one. And perhaps most importantly, I'm learning to be kinder to myself to acknowledge my struggles without letting them define me, and to celebrate my successes, no matter how small they might seem.

Conclusion

Right now, I'm in a tough spot. After failing my exam, I'm redoing it, and honestly, I feel like I'm going to fail again especially because of my native language and social studies. These two subjects are what I struggle with the most, and despite my efforts, I'm not sure how to make progress. The anxiety around these subjects has only intensified, making it even harder to study effectively.

I've tried reaching out to others for help, including my psychiatrist, who encouraged me to push harder and keep trying. They suggested additional strategies, like breaking my study sessions into smaller chunks, using color-coding to organize information, and practicing relaxation techniques to manage my anxiety. But even after hearing that, I'm still unsure. I've been trying for so long, and sometimes I wonder if it will ever get better.

Dyslexia might not go away, but I'm learning to work with it and embrace the unique ways it shapes my thinking and creativity. It's a part of me, but it doesn't define my worth or my potential. I'm more than my struggles with reading and writing I'm a programmer, a problem-solver, a creator, and a learner. And while the path ahead may not be easy, I'm determined to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

This is the first time I've spoken so openly about all of this. It's been hard to accept, but I think it's time I shared it. I'm posting this as part of my journey, hoping that somehow, even just sharing it, can help me move forward whether I succeed or fail. There's something powerful about putting my experiences into words, about acknowledging both my struggles and my strengths. It's a form of self-acceptance, a way of saying, "This is who I am, and that's okay."

Update - Three Months Later

It has been almost three months since I last wrote about my struggles, and I want to provide an update. Unfortunately, things have only gotten worse with my native language. The anxiety I mentioned before has intensified to a point where it's affecting my daily life. Now, even looking at the characters fills me with dread, my heart racing and my palms sweating at the mere sight of them. I've experienced full-blown panic attacks while trying to study moments where I can't breathe, where my vision tunnels and my thoughts spiral into darkness.

Last week, I had to leave room in the middle of a reading exercise. The words on the page began to swim, and I felt like I was drowning in them. My chest tightened, and I couldn't catch my breath. I mumbled an rushed to the bathroom, where I sat on the floor, back against the wall, trying to calm myself down. It took nearly twenty minutes before I could breathe normally again. These episodes are becoming more frequent, and they're affecting not just my studies but my overall well-being.

When I try to practice, it doesn't feel like I'm making any progress it feels like I'm staring at something completely alien, something my brain refuses to recognize or process. The more I look at the characters, the worse my anxiety gets. It's a vicious cycle that I can't seem to break out of. The fear of failure has become so overwhelming that it's paralyzing, preventing me from even trying.

After failing my important exam, I'm now in the process of redoing it. But I'm filled with the same fear and doubt that plagued me the first time. I feel like I'm going to fail again, especially in my native language and social studies the two subjects that have always been my biggest hurdles. The pressure is immense, not just from external expectations but from my own desire to succeed, to prove to myself that I can overcome this challenge.

I've continued to reach out for help. My psychiatrist encourages me to keep pushing, to not give up. They've suggested medication to help manage my anxiety, which I'm considering. They've also recommended a specialized tutor who works with dyslexic students, someone who might be able to provide more targeted strategies for my specific challenges. But it's hard to maintain hope when you've been trying for so long with little visible progress. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just not meant to overcome this particular challenge, if some mountains are simply too high to climb.

Despite these setbacks, I'm trying to focus on the areas where I do see progress. My programming skills continue to improve, and I've started working on a more complex project a web application that helps users organize and visualize information in ways that are accessible to different learning styles. It's still in the early stages, but working on it gives me a sense of purpose and accomplishment that balances out some of the frustration I feel in other areas.

I haven't told anyone about my dyslexia, not even my family. I keep making excuses when I struggle, pretending everything is fine when it's not. Every time I consider opening up, fear takes over fear of judgment, of being seen as less capable, of having to face this reality out loud. It's exhausting carrying this secret, but the thought of vulnerability terrifies me more than the isolation. Sometimes I wonder if anyone suspects, if they see through my carefully constructed façade. Part of me wishes someone would notice, would ask the right questions so I wouldn't have to find the courage to start the conversation myself.

I've found myself writing about mental health issues more frequently these days. I believe sharing these experiences can create a ripple effect, helping others who may be silently facing similar challenges. By opening up about my struggles with dyslexia, anxiety, and the educational system, I hope to contribute to a more compassionate conversation around learning differences.

Thank you for reading and bearing witness to my story. Words often feel inadequate to express the depth of these experiences, but I'm deeply grateful that you've taken the time to understand my journey. There's profound comfort in knowing someone is listening that my experiences might resonate with others or perhaps help someone feel less alone in their own struggles. This journey with dyslexia continues to unfold, with its inevitable peaks and valleys, but the act of sharing has transformed it into something less isolating and more meaningful. The community I've found through vulnerability has become an unexpected source of strength, and for that connection, I am truly grateful.

Update 2

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