The only days worse than test days were the days I got the test back.

As a notoriously below average student in subjects that didn't involve creativity... man, I hated those days.

I could feel myself slowly sinking in my chair, wanting so badly to hide underneath my desk.

And because I sat in the back, the delayed agony was torture.

Listening to the "Great job, Sarah" or "Another A+ for Jimmy"! 

You’d hear the "come see me after class" or just pure silence as the teacher laid the test face down on your desk and kept it movin’…

And then the anxiety of flipping the page over to see my grade would hit. 

In those seconds I’d regret not studying harder or not being smart enough - why did I have to go through this humiliation time and time again?

Till this day - I can still feel the ick.

Red Death

It's obvious why we're so threatened by being wrong. I mean c’mon - red death.

The bad grade written at a 45 degree angle on top of the page taunting you.

Those red slashes from our teachers have left their scars.

They’ve left such a mark on us, we made it the color of Dyslexia Awareness Month!

Go Red for Dyslexia!

Everybody’s wrong - some time.

How many times have you been driving with a friend in the passenger seat in charge of navigation?

As you get to your turn, they tell you to turn left.

But you’re turning the wheel to the right as they blurt out - “noooo, the other left”

By that time, you’ve already committed to the turn so yeah, you’re destined to circle the block or drive further down the highway, to get back on track.

That millisecond before the threat of being corrected lives under your skin.

You anticipate hearing “No, the other left” in scenarios in too many of the things you do.

It weighs heavily - this constant pressure to get it right before anyone can correct you.

Paying Invisible Debt

The price of living under that constant threat of being corrected?

It's steep and full of anxiety.

And you pay it in every relationship you have:

Work: You've created elaborate checklists, reminder systems, and backup plans under the threat of making a mistake.

The threat of being exposed as dyslexic hangs over every email, every meeting, every interaction. It's why you're so dang tired.

Friendships: You've learned how hard it is to make them. You make jokes about yourself before others can. "Oh don't mind me, I'm dyslexic - I always mess this stuff up!"

The words come out before anyone has even noticed anything wrong. These words are your shield, but also your prison.

Family: You brace for eye rolls. The sighs. The "Honey, we're all a little dyslexic." At the dinner table, the threat of being corrected or dismissed hangs over every conversation.

You find yourself preparing defenses for attacks that haven't even happened, from the people who should understand you the most, but don't.

Romance: This is where the threat of misunderstanding hurts most. Simple everyday things become complex - a forgotten anniversary feels like proof you don't care enough, a misheard dinner plan becomes evidence you're not paying attention.

You walk on eggshells. You exhaust yourself trying to prove your love in someone else's language.

Self: This is the toughest battle. Your inner voice now speaks in corrections. You hear "no, the OTHER left" before you even move.

You've learned to see yourself through others' eyes first. It makes you want to disappear.

But disappearing isn't the answer. Turning down the threat is.

Afterwall, why should you keep paying interest on debt you don’t owe?

Turn Down the Threat

Psychologists call it hypervigilance - when your brain stays on high alert, always scanning for the next correction.

It triggers your threat response cycle: Your heart races when someone looks over your shoulder at work, your stomach drops when you hear "can I give you some feedback?", you mentally rehearse even the simplest conversations.

But luckily, we can rewire our neural pathways; the same brain that learned to brace for corrections can learn to trust itself again.

WORK: Take work home whenever possible. Yes, it goes against every fiber of your being, but at home your brain works differently - no boss over your shoulder, no threat response triggered.

Run scenarios, double-check without pressure, get feedback from your partner or roomie. It's not about working more hours - it's about working where your threat level naturally drops and you’re more at ease.

FRIENDSHIPS: Value yourself through kept promises. Each small win builds self-trust. The more you trust yourself, the less you need those self-deprecating shields.

Others will notice the change before you do.

FAMILY: Set clear boundaries. Share articles or content that explains the emotional impact of dyslexia - not to justify, but to bridge the gap.

Let Pennie Aston's work do the heavy lifting of explaining what you've been trying to say for years.

ROMANCE: Make your partner a teammate. Be open about who shines at what. Share the workload based on strengths, not expectations.

Transform the relationship from a source of anxiety to a source of support.

SELF: Accept that this is how your brain works - for better and worse.

What if your hardships stemmed not from dyslexia itself, but from your relationship to it?

So to the left or to the right?

The weight of getting it right lessens…

When you realize being wrong isn’t the enemy.

Quick question for you LEX:-)

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