What…There’s a Word For that? #hyperlexia

My dad enjoyed telling people that I didn’t start speaking actual words until I was almost 5.

I think this hard on him. He had friends with kids my age who were speaking quite well.

Me?

I would point and say “bam”. That was my word. For everything.

I come from a long line of Irish storytellers, exaggerators and teasers. I figured this was just one of those things.

“Whatever, dad.”

Finally at some point in my late teen years I asked my mom if that was real or just another tall tale to get a rise out of me. My mom said…no it was true. I didn’t start speaking actual words (aside from “bam”) until I was 4 months away from my 5th birthday.

This was one conversation.

On another topic…I was reading at a third grade level by the time I hit kindergarten. In the 70’s, in my little rural town, “kindergarten” wasn’t a grade. It was short 5 week “summer school” just before the 1st grade. I was an avid reader. The library was my absolute favorite place in the world. It was quiet and loaded with adventures to explore on my own. I lived in my head.

Teachers had a difficult time trying to figure out what to do with me. When it came to reading and writing I was always ahead of of the curve. I remember growing impatient when another kid was struggling with a word and I would blurt it out for them.

When I hit middle school (7th grade) I was placed in 8th grade honors english. Talk about hell. The quiet nerdy kid suddenly dropped in a class full of 8th graders.

Back to the 1st and 2nd grade. I remember constantly being pulled out of class to have my hearing tested. They would put me in a room with a counselor and put these giant headphones on me and then told me whenever I heard a beep sound to tap the headphone that I heard it in.

My mom told me that she would get regular calls from teachers and the principle concerned that I was often non-responsive to the teacher who was calling on me…but my hearing was just fine.

I was also pulled out of class weekly for a while, for speech therapy. I remember struggling with the physical process of speaking. I often still struggle with that.

Fast forward to my adult years. I think I was in my late 30’s when I learned that most people, in their thoughts, think conversationally. An internal dialog with words.

I do not.

I think visually. I think in pictures. In patterns. Mini motion pictures. I think with my senses..I see the thing, hear the thing even feel the thing in my head. It’s non-linear. It’s difficult to explain.

To me it seems more efficient than thinking in linear fashion, start to finish. It also made me realize why I have such a hard time expressing myself verbally. Translating pictures and visual concepts into language for other humans is a fuck-ton of work to do in a matter of seconds while engaged in conversation. If I’m emotionally compromised…fuck. I open my mouth and words come out like nonsense.

Verbal processing is also difficult, especially with external environmental factors. Have you been to restaurant where the music is blaring and you feel like you have to yell to be heard? This is how social situations feel for me.

Onw safety mechanism is to fake “not hear” and ask the speaker to say it again…giving me more time to formulate a response. I have an audible account and I do enjoy using it for certain types of books. But its such a slow way to consume a book… for me. A 4 hour audio book would probably take me an hour, hour and a half to read with my eyes.

Talking with my mom and learning more about my mysterious childhood “stuff” has been great. My mom is amazing. Knowing what she had to go through with me in a time where this thing was largely misunderstood makes me appreciate her even more.

Bam.