Sometimes you need to sit back and realize you don't need to be "perfect". I grew up giving myself so much pressure to be the "perfect listener" the "sweet" one the "nice" one". After all these years, I still wake up realizing I want to be liked loved and accepted for me. I want people to understand that my severe dyslexia plays a role in my life in a major way, that I'm more emotional and feel with my heart more then most people do.
That I cry over "silly" things on a daily basis and that's ok. I take things personally and I don't deal well with most jokes and that's ok. That's me, the real me, I wear my broken heart on my sleeve, I live with a lot of pasts wounds and scars (something I'm working on getting past day by day) Why should any of us pretend? I've gone out and "put on a face" more times then I can count the last ten years.
Every time I seem to open up, someone seems to think its a fun time and talk about me behind my back, someone had the nerve to tell me my dyslexia wasn't as "bad" as I was "letting on". It makes me beyond hurt and angry that someone can make that judgement of a life they've never experienced, dyslexia has different forms, some worse then others, mine happens to be the worst on the list.
But that's exactly why I "put on a face" the looks, the judgments, the hurtful words, it makes me want to run and hide. Then I crawl back into my shell, put up my walls and work another day at being "perfect" maybe someone will accept the "fake me" if they can't deal with the "real" me. I've been harshly judged all my life, I've had dyslexia since I was born, I wasn't diagnosed until I was eleven years old.
I went through all those pre-teen years, being the butt of jokes, being made fun of when someone found out I had a crush, being humiliated when they knew I couldn't read a chapter book at 13, being made fun of because I couldn't spell words like "wonderful or amazing. Basically only half of my brain works, there's no "cure" no "magic pill". Some people have a better time of it ( not saying it's not still hard) mine effects my every day.
Effects the way I speak, weather the words will be jumbled or make sense when I say them, I never know, but boy is it embarrassing when they are. The best way I've found to cope has been my photography, I started at eleven (when I was diagnosed) it helped me feel like I could be in control of something, I could control the frame, the lighting, the editing, it's been my biggest therapy.
Maybe that's why I love it so much, it's gotten me through the hardest, cruelest times of my life, pushed me forward, gave hope to a hurting woman with a past she wishes she could forget. I have a disability, it controls my brain, and most everything in my life, my thoughts, my words, and my emotions. I have no control over myself about 90% of the time, when the 10% comes I feel "whole" for those few minutes in a week I get.
I've gone my whole life with being judged left and right, being misunderstood, being abandoned by those who were once my "friends" being told I was "too emotional" , dumb, stupid, not good enough. The list goes on. So please know, this is why I do the things I do, this is why I react like I do, why I get defensive at every turn, this is why I get hurt easily, I have my guard up 100% of the time. This is me, the real, hurt, battered, emotional me.
It's your choice to love me, to accept me, judge me, to talk about me behind my back, but every time you do, please know your wounding an already broken heart, you don't know my battles, you don't know the hurt I've already been through in my 26 years. Please chose your words wisely, we're all fighting our own battles. Every word hurts. EVERY one.