I was in grade school when my fairytale started to unravel, I was diagnosed dyslexic. At such a young age, I went through frustration, anger and bewilderment. On the top of the difficulty I had to deal with at school, I had to come to terms with this abnormality called dyslexia. While several things came easily to most kids my age it was different for me. Sometimes I would confuse my left from my right, drawing a straight line took a lot from me. I was slow at math. Spelling was a nightmare. Unlike my classmates, I had to work doubly hard. Writing and reading also presented a challenge. For most dyslexic like me, we often mix up the letters, the syllables or even the words. At the time, I was only in second grade, and we had already begun learning Spanish at school. English was enough of a struggle for me. How much more was Spanish.
The difficulty at school was only part of it. I also had to deal with the feeling so isolated. Very much like the princesses in my favorite fairy tales, I felt like I was locked up in the tower of my dream castle. Although my grand mother was very supportive, there were times when I had to face dyslexia on my own. She wasn’t around to shield me from the jeers or snickers whenever I was asked to read aloud in class. She’s wasn’t there to sit with me during break because nobody wanted to be anywhere near me for being different. Try as hard as they could, my grand mother and my sisters couldn’t possibly understand how it felt like to be an outcast at an age when friends meant more than anything else. All these I had to face all alone.