I'm sixty-two years old, and I live in South Carolina with my wife. I write on Medium.com and I want to expand my audience.


I'm sixty-two years old, and I live in South Carolina with my wife. I write on Medium.com and I want to expand my audience.
Share Dialog
Share Dialog

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Here is my first story:
I was young, a teenager still living at home. It doesn't matter what we were doing. It would be yard work or trying to repair something in the house.
My dad would send me to look for something, a tool, a rake, or whatever. I would go look for it and come back empty-handed. Dad would go get the tool himself.
He would lash out in anger and frustration because the tool would be in plain sight. Somehow I would overlook it. I would get angry at the accusations, " you're not paying attention, you're being lazy" and on and on.
I have made it a project most of my adult life to read as much as I can about dyslexia and dyscalculia. I discovered in my research that there are different types of dyslexia.
I knew all too well about the difficulties with math and reading. I wasn't surprised to learn that a person could have auditory dyslexia as well.
I do okay if I and the other person are calm, but if I'm frustrated, which leads to confusion, or the other way around. The situation will escalate.
My dad could never figure that out. When I became an adult, dad and I came to an understanding. We never did anything together. He didn't have the patience.
I was getting older, and I grew less inclined to back down when my dad lost his temper. If my dad couldn't figure out how to work with me, imagine what my co-workers and supervisors thought.
I hate change and new situations with a passion. It's so hard to adapt to them. Once I learn a new job or a new routine or a new city, I'm good, but it takes so long to learn anything.
I'm cool now, I understand that it takes longer for me, and I know that I have a knack for making simple things difficult. I also understand that other people are not going to get it.
People can think what they want to think. I always knew I wasn't stupid. I finally understood myself to know that despite what my parents or supervisors thought, I'm not slow.
I'm not slow, I'm deliberate. I have to pay attention and think about everything I say or do. Is that a bad thing? Wouldn't we all get along better if everyone considered their words and actions?
I'm sixty-two years old. I'm a good man, an awesome husband, and the best uncle ever. I'm dyslexic, yes there are things I have trouble doing, and there are things I can't do at all.
Other people have programmed me to believe lies. It's time I rewrote the code. There are lots of things I can do, but I'm tired of focusing on the negative.
It has taken a while but I'm changing my outlook, and I'm rewriting my inner dialogue. My sixties will be my best decade. I will overcome it all.
You are your programmer, rewrite the code and live your best life.
Here is my first story:
I was young, a teenager still living at home. It doesn't matter what we were doing. It would be yard work or trying to repair something in the house.
My dad would send me to look for something, a tool, a rake, or whatever. I would go look for it and come back empty-handed. Dad would go get the tool himself.
He would lash out in anger and frustration because the tool would be in plain sight. Somehow I would overlook it. I would get angry at the accusations, " you're not paying attention, you're being lazy" and on and on.
I have made it a project most of my adult life to read as much as I can about dyslexia and dyscalculia. I discovered in my research that there are different types of dyslexia.
I knew all too well about the difficulties with math and reading. I wasn't surprised to learn that a person could have auditory dyslexia as well.
I do okay if I and the other person are calm, but if I'm frustrated, which leads to confusion, or the other way around. The situation will escalate.
My dad could never figure that out. When I became an adult, dad and I came to an understanding. We never did anything together. He didn't have the patience.
I was getting older, and I grew less inclined to back down when my dad lost his temper. If my dad couldn't figure out how to work with me, imagine what my co-workers and supervisors thought.
I hate change and new situations with a passion. It's so hard to adapt to them. Once I learn a new job or a new routine or a new city, I'm good, but it takes so long to learn anything.
I'm cool now, I understand that it takes longer for me, and I know that I have a knack for making simple things difficult. I also understand that other people are not going to get it.
People can think what they want to think. I always knew I wasn't stupid. I finally understood myself to know that despite what my parents or supervisors thought, I'm not slow.
I'm not slow, I'm deliberate. I have to pay attention and think about everything I say or do. Is that a bad thing? Wouldn't we all get along better if everyone considered their words and actions?
I'm sixty-two years old. I'm a good man, an awesome husband, and the best uncle ever. I'm dyslexic, yes there are things I have trouble doing, and there are things I can't do at all.
Other people have programmed me to believe lies. It's time I rewrote the code. There are lots of things I can do, but I'm tired of focusing on the negative.
It has taken a while but I'm changing my outlook, and I'm rewriting my inner dialogue. My sixties will be my best decade. I will overcome it all.
You are your programmer, rewrite the code and live your best life.
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