I didn’t set out to write a book. I set out to survive an experience I couldn’t explain.

For years, I carried the weight of things I didn’t have words for — moments of misunderstanding, waves of loneliness, flashes of profound love followed by equally profound disconnection. It wasn’t until much later that I began to understand the deeper forces at work: neurodiversity, invisible differences in how we process language, emotion, and connection.

Writing became my way to trace a path through the fog — to give shape to the confusion, to name what had gone unnamed, and to offer a kind of map for others walking a similar road.

My Dyslexic Husband isn’t a book of blame or easy answers. It’s a portrait of complexity — of how love can endure even when understanding feels out of reach. It’s about holding on, letting go, and learning to speak a language we were never taught.

Since launching the site, readers from around the world — Germany, Iran, Australia, Canada, the U.S., and beyond — have found their way here. That reach speaks to something powerful: this isn’t just my story. It’s a reflection of thousands of unspoken dynamics happening behind closed doors.

This project is more than a memoir. It’s also a bridge — into greater awareness, deeper empathy, and shared tools for navigating life in neurodiverse relationships. We’re building companion resources for readers, educators, therapists, policy makers and loved ones who want to understand more and connect better.

In a world heavy with disconnection and despair, I hope this book — and the space around it — offers something else: a glimpse of what’s possible when we tell the truth, stay curious, and keep choosing love.

I wrote this memoir because I needed it — and because I believe, somewhere out there, someone else might need it too.

Explore more:

3 Things I Didn’t Know About Loving Someone with ADHD & Dyslexia
5 Things You’re Not Imagining in a Neurodiverse Relationship
The Hidden Strain: Emotional Impacts of Dyslexia and ADHD in Marriage