They keep telling me it’s a “Gift”

March 3rd, 2012 by Theresa

It’s no secret that writers are a creatively delicate lot. We suffer from crippling self doubt, depression and sometimes crippling physical attributes that make up our unique view of the world. Nothing brings that world crashing down like someone poking around in our psyches. Let me tell you about the past few weeks.

So I’m in counseling. No biggie for me as a lot of us are. In fact, some seriously famous people are getting help. So Patrick ( not his real name but close enough that I call him this ) asks me what has me frustrated that day. Just that day.  I shrug. I tell him I’ve been staring at my unfinished manuscripts for weeks, missed lunch every day that week, was late for work a few times and forgot I was hanging out with the girls. The girls were not impressed.  The worst part was I forgot my laundry in the washer – for a week. That part really burned me – a whole freaking week.

So Patrick looks at me kind of funny. He narrows his eyes and cocks his head to the side. “Tell me,” he says. “Are you on the go a lot?” Duh. My calender is booked a month in advance. “Got trouble with managing time?” Um yeah, I quit wearing a watch years ago. The panic attacks were not cool.  So Patrick turns around and fiddles with his computer screen.  He asks me a barrage of questions to which I answer yes or no.  He turns back around. “Carrot.”

“What?” An image popped in my head. That image followed a progression of ideas until it came back to that single image.

“Carrot,”  he says again. He’s got this smile on his face. He knows what I’m thinking but too afraid to say. Finally I give up.

“Bugs Bunny.”

Apparently this is the right answer. Patrick’s smile lights up room. “When you think, it is in words and lists? Or pictures?”

“Try 3D movies, complete with surround sound, rumble seats and smell-o-vision.”  The idea has taken me. I”m sitting on the edge of my seat, arms spread as wide as my field of vision.  This too is the right answer.  I still don’t understand the question.

Then Patrick tells me about my “gift.”  It’s the “Gift of Dyslexia.” Shocked, stunned and in denial, I ask if I can give it back. Patrick laughs.

So I identify as having a form of  dyslexia – dyscalculia .

A great writer – a terrible typist.

A great thinker of thoughts that move four times faster than normal. Meaning? I start the laundry and think it’s done – leaving clothes to mold in the washer.

A generous heart that can’t balance a check book.

A music connoisseur  that can dance and sing, but walking in silence is iffy.

I’d be on the fence on the up sides if I could – but I know I’ll just fall off. ( that whole spatial ability thing that I just don’t have)

And yet…it’s rather freeing. I’m never going to be completely organized – or on time. So I can stop beating myself up about it.  I do my best to keep a schedule and make my apologies for lateness ahead of time.   I can indeed work on three things at once.  I find that *sometimes* people ask me to do things, because they know it’ll get done – eventually.

So this gift of mine  – and mind – isn’t new.. but definitely a life changer. I’ll keep you posted on what other gems I find.




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