When I first started writing, it was just for me.

A way to release the frustration and confusion I felt when it seemed like no one, not even my partner, understood what was happening. The journaling started as a lifeline in those moments of feeling alone.

Initially, the book had working titles like *Misread* and *Misunderstood*—it was centered on my perspective, my need to make sense of the disconnect. But as I continued, the narrative evolved. I realized that it wasn’t just about me. It needed to honor my husband’s experience and the layers we both carried—his trauma, my trauma, and the complexities of neurodiversity that were only beginning to make sense.

The turning point was when I started researching neurodiversity and discovered how widespread dyslexia is, and how inconsistent the support can be. That’s when the project took on a bigger purpose—it wasn’t just my story or our story. It was a universal story that could help others navigate their own grey areas.

This memoir became a vessel for something larger than myself or even our relationship. It became a way to shed light on the invisible struggles that so many people face and to offer a voice to those who feel misunderstood.