Growing up, I always felt like I was battling with the English language. Writing essays, forming sentences, and even speaking properly were challenges I never quite managed to overcome. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried, my words would come out awkwardly, never quite matching the thoughts that were so clear in my mind. One of the most frustrating things was how often I would mix up tenses and endings. I’d start a sentence in the past tense and somehow end it in the future or present. My verbs would sometimes trail off into forms that didn’t quite fit, leaving my sentences feeling jumbled and confusing.

As I got older, the struggle didn’t get any easier. Writing emails, communicating at work, and even just talking with friends often left me feeling embarrassed. I would rehearse what I wanted to say over and over in my head, only to have the words come out wrong when it mattered most. The tense shifts and mismatched endings were a constant source of anxiety, making me feel like I was always falling behind while everyone else had it all figured out.

For the longest time, I thought this was just my problem to deal with. I figured that maybe English wasn’t my strong suit, that I just wasn’t good at following the rules of grammar and language. Being bilingual, I often thought that my difficulties with English were simply because I was juggling two languages. I assumed that the confusion I felt was just a natural part of switching between languages and that my brain was getting its wires crossed. This belief was only reinforced by those around me. Someone once told me that I was embarrassing myself because I couldn’t speak properly. It hurt a lot, and I felt even more ashamed. The diabolic one who abused me in the past loved pointing out when I said something wrong, using it as a way to make me feel small and unimportant. The constant criticism only made me believe there was something fundamentally wrong with me. I started thinking I must have been the only person who could confuse a noun and a verb so badly.

But life had a surprising twist in store for me. It wasn’t until I went through therapy for Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD) that I discovered there was more to my struggle than just a lack of language skills or the challenges of being bilingual. My therapist suggested an evaluation, and after a thorough assessment, I was diagnosed with Developmental Language Disorder (DLD). It was a harsh wake-up call—like realizing you’ve been trying to run a marathon with your shoelaces tied together.

What Is Developmental Language Disorder?

Developmental Language Disorder, or DLD, is a condition that affects how people understand and use language. It’s more common than people realize, affecting about 7% of the population. People with DLD struggle with different aspects of language, like vocabulary, grammar, and sentence structure. This can make it hard to speak and write clearly, making everyday tasks like forming sentences or holding conversations feel like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

DLD does not mean someone is stupid or intellectually impaired. People with DLD usually have average or above-average intelligence. The condition affects the language centers of the brain, not overall intelligence. This is why I could think clearly in my head but struggled to express those thoughts in a way that made sense to others. It wasn’t that I didn’t know the rules of grammar or how to speak properly; it was that my brain processed language differently. It is almost like how I speak is on a different wavelength from everyone else.

Coming to Terms with My Diagnosis

Finding out I had DLD was both a relief and a shock. On one hand, it was comforting to know there was a reason for my struggles with language. It wasn’t that I was bad at English; my brain was just wired differently. On the other hand, it was hard to accept that this was something I had been dealing with my whole life without even knowing it. It was like discovering that the reason you’ve been tripping all your life is because someone secretly tied your shoelaces together.

I started looking back on my life with a new perspective. All those times I felt stupid or out of place weren’t my fault. They were the result of a condition I didn’t even know I had. The frustration and shame I had carried for so many years began to fade, replaced by a sense of understanding and, eventually, self-compassion.

The Power of Poetry and Creative Writing

As I began to understand my struggles with language, I found myself turning to poetry and creative writing as a way to express myself. These forms of writing became more than just a hobby; they became a lifeline. Poetry, in particular, allowed me to break free from the rigid rules of grammar that had always tripped me up. I could play with words, mix tenses, and create something beautiful out of the chaos that often characterized my communication. 

Creative writing became an essential part of my healing process. It gave me a space to work through my trauma and to communicate my pain and my journey toward healing in a way that felt authentic. Through writing, I could explore my emotions and experiences without worrying about getting every word exactly right. I could focus on the meaning behind the words rather than the structure, which was incredibly freeing.

Writing also helped me connect with others who had experienced similar struggles. It became a way to reach out, to share my story, and to let others know they weren’t alone. The act of writing itself was healing, allowing me to process my experiences and find meaning in them. It gave me a voice when I often felt voiceless, and it helped me reclaim a part of myself that I had lost.

Moving Forward with DLD

But the journey didn’t end with the diagnosis. I had to learn how to live with this new knowledge, finding ways to cope and communicate better. I’ve worked with speech and language therapists to develop strategies that help me better organize my thoughts and express them more clearly. It’s a work in progress, and there are still days when the words don’t come out right, and I feel that old familiar frustration creeping back in—usually when I’m trying to say something important and my brain decides to play a game of charades instead.

However, I’m learning to be kinder to myself and to recognize that my struggles with language don’t define who I am. I’m embracing the fact that communication is about more than just following rules—it’s about connecting with others, understanding, and expressing who we are. And while my journey with language has been anything but easy, it has also taught me resilience, patience, and the importance of never giving up on finding my voice.

So here I am, still fumbling through sentences, still finding my way with words, and still occasionally mixing up my tenses and endings like I’m trying to confuse myself on purpose. But now, I do it with a little more grace, a little more understanding, and a lot more acceptance of who I am—language struggles and all. And that, in itself, is a victory worth celebrating—or at least a good reason to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

A Word of Advice

If you find yourself struggling with language in a way that feels more than just the usual challenge, don’t hesitate to seek help. If you often mix up words, and tenses, or feel like your thoughts don’t translate well into speech or writing, consider seeing a speech therapist or getting evaluated. There might be an underlying condition, like Developmental Language Disorder, that’s making communication harder for you. Getting a diagnosis can be the first step toward understanding your struggles and finding strategies that work for you. Remember, struggling with language doesn’t make you less intelligent—it just means you might need a different approach. Don’t be afraid to reach out and find the support you need. And if you find comfort in creative writing or poetry, embrace it. It’s a powerful way to communicate your experiences, heal your wounds, and connect with others on a deeper level.