The Right Kind of Writing

5/29

A Juournlal Entry from my dyslexic Haert heart to yours. I copied this from my journal with authenticity. I hope that’s okay

It’s funny how the the way the world works. Maybe the enemy knew I was called to write? Maybe he had a feeling the inspiration and creativity HodG weaved in my heart as he formed me in the whom was going to take me far. Maybe thats why he tried all the ways he could to keep my pencli from hitting the paper. I struggled a lot in school, not with grades and not with friends, just in spelling. I was smart and friendly but the only thing that came w/ difficutly was writing. I had dislexia I failed every spelling test and quickly gave up trying to memorize each word. it was like don’t matter how hard I tried I still failed, I had all the right letters just never in the right order. I spelled girl as gril until the fourth grade and any word bigger than 4 letters just beacme a gesuing gussieng  a free for all.img_0432.jpg I had to connectrate way harder than most people had to in English class or as we practiced our spelling words and it quickly became my most hated subject. I wrote great stories but always got a bad grade for the many markings of my spelling or words of my sentneces in the wrong order. You couldn’t tell much unless you read my work or caught me when I was tired enough or distracted I would pronounce words with ease, but words that didn’t exsist. I’d flip syllables or letters, or add letters or take out other ones and make words that people word tease. I was good at laughing if off. But it made litaretuer a defeated place for me. As I got older and more words and bigger vocabulary in the books we were told to read. I quickly began to lose interest in reading and so I stopped. I stopped the stories coming in and I stopped the stories going out. My Writing wasn’t the right kind of writing.

I slowly became a master thesauras as I began to learn words that where easily interchangeable based on what I wanted to say and what I could actually spell. There seemed to be no ryhme or reason to it all. No pattren of what words I knew and what I didn’t. At times I’d spell one word right and the next paragraph it would be wrong. Sometimes I would spell it wrong in three different ways in three different sentences and on three different days. If I concentrate hard its better, but then it slows down my thoughts. If I’m trying to get my thoughts out, often it’s too fast to make the words right. it’s like I know them in my head, but the translation from my brain to my fingures is disconnected. Most of the time spell-check had no idea what I was trying to say and typing or texting became fustrating. I kept most my stuff very secret and in written journals as to not be judged by people or mocked by those computers. And then Siri became a thing in 2011, And literaly my writing carrer took off. It was shortly after that. I began to write and be confedint to show others my writing. There’s still not mcuh many mistakes as my pronunciation seems to be different then most people. but even then I could blame it on Siri!

The Beginning of 2012 is when my first piece of writing got out. A class paper I had written (and actually got a bad grade on) but these rules of school could not longer hold back who I had become. With Siri I was able to express myself better and in deep ways and I preformed my paper as a spoken word in a couple diffrenet contents contexts. Since then I’ve been asked to write often. Poeple have often asked for copies of my work and I’m encouraged that finally my disorder no longer would affect my ability to be me. There are still many things I cannot sound out and if you try to tell me letters often as they leave your mouth, enter my head and get to my paper it is still wrong. I’ll say “Wait? What?” ni nd  in hopes you’ll go slower and let me get each letter. When I’m tired you’ll hear me mumble and fumbel through my words and even as I read out loud you’ll hear it too. I edit and reedit and focus and try again, But ultimatley it’s a part of who I am. It’s made me unqike and maed me who I am and it shows how great and might the grace and power of God is. As I write, As I speak, as I tell you the stories on my heart. You’ll learn to love the way I sound, and quickly to think if maybe you all are the one’s saying it wrong all along.

 

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