Yesterday, I wrote this thing. (I’ve probably miswritten something, and I think it will develop as a thing, but it is now what it is now.) Today, I’m told it’s Dyspraxia Awareness Week:
I’m dyspraxic; or maybe I have dyspraxia. I haven’t decided yet, and I might change my mind after I do.
It’s also called developmental coordination disorder. It’s not a disorder, it’s a fresh expression of order.
If you do some research about it, please bear in mind not every individual has every “symptom”, and I don’t have all of mine all the time.
Basically, my body and brain (and/or mind, spirit &c) don’t work exactly how other people (or even I) expect them to, but that doesn’t really mean I’m atypical because is there even such a thing as typical?
I don’t have difficulty learning unless you’re a lazy teacher (or possibly your environment — I’m looking at you, Higher Education! — restricts your teaching).
I have traits of other “conditions” too, but my diagnosis is dyspraxia.
My diagnosis is recent (I’m still figuring it out), but I’ve always been dyspraxic really.
I am disabled. That is to say, I am often subject to factors external and internal that disable me. (Research the social model of disability if you’ve not heard of it.)
I don’t ‘suffer’ from dyspraxia — there’s nothing ‘wrong with me’ — our all-loving G*d created me like this. You’re welcome to take it up with Her.