I want to start with a question, what was the most humiliating moment of your life? I ask this because we tend to forget some of our best memories. Our mind has a sadistic way of blurring our greatest moments while favoring the tormenting ones that get pushed to the forefront of our mind. If I were to ask you what the best moment of your life was it may be a little more difficult to recall. I’m not ashamed to say that I have many humiliating moments that I can bring to light. They range in how traumatizing they are. Yet, the ones in my childhood seem to present themselves more prominently. They are the ones that I remember when I lie awake at night, wishing into the late hours that I could forget them. Perhaps it’s because they played a big part in my early development. So let me tell you about one of the most humiliating moments of my life.

I was eight years old and until then I had been home schooled. Moving from England to South Africa was already a shock to the system. Yet, the real shock was being enrolled in the Waldorf school and not only being bully to the degree that I left the school. Also, because for the first time in my life I had to compete academically. I remember standing in front of the assembled class with an early development book in my hands whilst being prompted by the teacher to start reading too demonstrate my level of literacy. I had never learned to read. It wasn’t as much the lack of words coming out of my mouth while attempting to translate the symbols on the page that looked more like ancient hieroglyphs to my young mind. it was the hot tears rolling down my face at my frustration that I was not at the same level as my peers. I also did not know in that moment that it would be that way for quite some time. I only learned to read when I was 16. Even then, my reading abilities were incredibly rudimentary.

Before we left the UK I was diagnosed with dyslexia. during the 90s the understanding to the condition went through a conscious shift. People are no longer assumed to be stupid. Rather those who had the learning difficultys associated with dyslexia were believed to have a different way of thinking to people who did not have it. This is true for me since I continue to read at such a slow meandering pace that many would believe me to be barely literate. I am not here however to recount my self-criticisms. I am here to tell you the following.

Dyslexia is the most precious gift I was ever given!

There are many things I am grateful for in my life. Breathing is one of them. Just the idea that I’m alive gives me gratitude. I am grateful for my loving wife and supportive family. I am however also prone to depression.