Lately I have been looking back on my past of when I was younger. From watching a film with subtitles this has brought back memories to me of when I was little and did not know that I had dyslexia. I remember when I was little my mum taking me and my sister to the library to take some books home to read, I remember this library being the worst place on earth. I couldn’t believe anybody would want to go to this place. I remember sitting in the library not wanting to pick up a book, and looking at my sister with books round her feet, piled up, reading one book after another. I used to sit on a bean bag in the corner protesting that I was not going to read one. My mum used to have to drag me by the arm off this bean bag and push me to the shelf stacked with books. This bookcase seemed so big and imposing, standing in front of a bookcase filled with books was my nightmare. My mum used to have to pull out a book from the case and I remember her saying ‘ooh look Larissa that’s a nice book isn’t it?’ to which I just stood there looking at the floor, and not responding.
My mum then would take me back to the bean bag with the book in her hand as I refused to touch it, and then she would try to get me to read it. I remember another comment she used to say ‘Look Larissa, if Dominique can do it I’m sure you can do it! She’s four years younger than you’. Which at this stage I would grab the book and throw it so far that it would hit the other side of the room, and then start crying. Then my mum would get upset and then my sister would walk across with her book, and sit next to me and open the page and start to read to me.
It’s funny because when I look at books now and even when I started to learn to read at the age of eleven, if I pick up a book and it is full page to page of writing I will put it back down. I will not read it, and I know that it might be a really good book and I could learn a lot. But for me to understand and to read that book on my own with no one to help I will never be able to understand it. I would have to read it five times just to get the jist of it, and even then if someone asked me what happened in that book I couldn’t possibly tell you. Even to this day I have never read a book from cover to cover on my own. And I don’t think I will ever read a book fully, page to page. Do I think I’m missing out? I might be, I have tried to do it but I just can’t. I can’t help it but where I am weak and unable to do this I am stronger in other areas. So at the end of the day I don’t care that I can’t read a book. It’s my life, this is what I’ve got, I’ve just got to cope with it the best that I can and get on with my life.