Why Words Are Hard for Me (And What You Don’t See)
I want to talk about something that a lot of people don’t understand.
Something that’s been with me my entire life, but that I’ve only recently been able to name:
Speech is hard for me. Like, physically, neurologically hard.
Not just “I forgot a word” hard.
Not shy. Not socially anxious (although that doesn’t help).
I mean glitchy, scrambled, awkward, delayed, and exhausting.
There’s a traffic jam between my brain and my mouth—and by the time the words get through, they’ve lost their shape.
My Brain Knows. My Mouth Doesn’t Cooperate.
I can be full of ideas. Bursting with thoughts.
But the second I try to speak them out loud, they fall apart.
I swap syllables. I stumble. My jaw feels heavy. My tongue goes rogue.
And the kicker?
I’m not shy. I’m not unsure of what I want to say.
But my body and brain have other plans.
This Is What Dyspraxia (and Apraxia of Speech) Looks Like
I have dyspraxia, also known as developmental coordination disorder.
Yes, I trip over air.
Yes, I’ve dropped a fork and stabbed myself in the boob.
But what most people don’t know is that dyspraxia doesn’t just affect your hands and feet—it affects your mouth, too.
And sometimes it’s more than dyspraxia.
It’s called apraxia of speech—when your brain knows exactly what it wants to say, but the motor planning that tells your mouth how to say it… breaks down.
There’s no physical weakness. Just interrupted access.
Imagine your words are passengers.
Your brain knows where they need to go.
But the bus doesn’t show up.
Or it stalls.
Or it forgets the route mid-sentence.
That’s apraxia.
It’s not that I can’t speak—it’s that speech doesn’t always show up when I need it.
And when it does, it often feels like I’m fighting my own body to get the words out.
It’s Not Just About Talking. It’s About Being Heard.
Social media has made this worse in a lot of ways.
We see polished, articulate, charismatic speakers talking fast, sounding smart, never missing a beat.
Even the “unedited” content is edited.
So when I pause, stumble, or mispronounce something—I feel broken.
I feel like I don’t belong in the conversation.
For real:
Real people have pauses. Real speech is imperfect. Real connection isn’t measured in fluency.
The Shame Isn’t Ours to Carry (But We Carry It Anyway)
Every stammer, every silence, every glitch gets misinterpreted.
People assume I’m slow. Or unprepared. Or not smart.
Meanwhile, I’m working ten times harder just to be part of the conversation.
The emotional toll? It adds up—especially in work environments where “good communication” is currency.
If you’re not fast, smooth, and confident—you’re invisible. Or expendable.
But I’m not doing that anymore.
I’m done apologizing for how I speak.
I’m done measuring my value by someone else’s comfort with my pauses.
When Words Don’t Work, Art Does
This is why I’m such a loud advocate for art as therapy.
Because when the words are stuck, the art flows.
It bypasses the traffic jam. It makes space for feelings I can’t verbalize.
It’s not just a creative outlet—it’s survival.
And this is why I keep showing up to do hard things like podcasting, even when speaking feels unnatural.
Because someone out there needs to hear this.
Needs to know they’re not broken.
Needs to know that struggling with speech doesn’t make them less worthy of being heard.
Communication is a Shared Responsibility
To the people who love us:
Slow down.
Leave space.
Let the silence breathe.
Don’t interrupt. Don’t assume. Ask what we need.
Listen with patience, not pressure.
And to those of us who struggle?
Give yourself grace.
You don’t have to speak flawlessly to deserve to be understood.
You don’t have to mask your struggle to belong.
You’re Not Alone
I only started understanding myself when I stumbled across people talking about dyspraxia and apraxia and realized—wait, that’s me.
People like Daniel Radcliffe, Cara Delevingne, Florence Welch, and Jamie Oliver have spoken publicly about this stuff.
Every story makes it easier for someone else to find theirs.
So here’s mine.
And if it sounds anything like yours?
You’re not broken. You’re just wired differently.
And that wiring? It’s powerful.
It might be slower to speak, but it’s rich, layered, and beautiful.
Want to Go Deeper?
I’ve got free resources on:
Art therapy as a tool for nonverbal expression
Communication scripts for ND folks
A mini-course in progress for those of us who live this every day
Plus: recommended creators and books that helped me understand myself better
Let’s stop equating fluency with intelligence.
Let’s start listening differently.
Explore my Words Are Hard podcast + free downloads
Download the Art Therapy Starter Guide
Subscribe to my Substack or join the community
At AuRTistic Expressions, I create resources for autistic and neurodivergent adults who communicate differently—whether that means through art, scripts, silence, or beautifully delayed words.
This blog is part of a larger series on executive dysfunction, masking, apraxia of speech, and emotional regulation. If you’re exploring your identity, building new communication tools, or unlearning years of shame, you're in the right place.
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