Welcome to my Story
Hi everyone, and thank you for visiting my website. I started this site to share my story and see if it resonates with others. I believe websites are a serendipitous way to create connections, and that’s exactly what I aim to do here.
I’m Hans, born in '93, and I grew up in a multicultural and multilingual family. From an early age, I was immersed in both English and Dutch, later adding French to the mix. This upbringing has been a cornerstone of who I am, giving me the privilege of experiencing and appreciating both American and Dutch cultures. This dual perspective opened my eyes to the vastness of the world in ways many people don’t get to experience. Over the years, I’ve found myself constantly comparing these two cultures, adopting the best aspects of each to shape my own ethos. This dynamic interplay forms the tapestry of my life.
Another foundational part of who I am crystallized in the fourth grade when I was diagnosed with dyslexia. At that time, neither I nor the broader world fully understood the complexities of dyslexia. I was part of the “guinea pig generation”—a time when people recognized dyslexia as a legitimate challenge but didn’t yet have the tools or knowledge to address it effectively. Dyslexia has been a source of both immense pain and profound joy in my life. This dichotomy is one of the reasons I created this website.
Growing up, my life was filled with tests about my brain, professionals pointing out what was “wrong,” and countless embarrassing moments in school. I often felt otherized, like I didn’t belong. These moments weren’t isolated—they were woven into my everyday experience.
One particularly vivid memory comes from fifth grade. Each week, we were assigned 20 words to memorize and spell. I never remember passing a single spelling test. I’d be lucky if I spelled three words correctly. My teacher, knowing I was dyslexic and trying to help, reduced my list to 10 words per week to make the task more manageable. Even with half the load, I still only managed to spell one, two, maybe three words correctly. That weekly ritual of failure became an early and enduring memory of my scholastic struggles—a bitter draught I would come to know all too well.
In fourth grade, after I was diagnosed with dyslexia, I was given an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) that granted me certain accommodations, including extra time on tests and the option to take them in a quiet, distraction-free room. While these tools were invaluable, they came with their own challenges. Every time a test was announced, the teacher would stand up and say, “For those who need to leave the room to take the test, please leave now.” This happened in every test, in every class, every year.
Each time, I was faced with a choice: Do I stand up, leave the room, and use the support I was entitled to, knowing it would mark me as the dumb dumb in the class? Or do I stay seated, save face, and struggle through the test in silence knowing I will get a poorer grade? Both options sucked, and no matter what I chose, I felt otherized, constantly reminded that I thought and learned differently.
Moments like these leave a mark, but they also make you tough. I am now in my 30s and I have yet to find anything that comes close as difficult as those scholastic years. This includes my days as a Peace Corps Volunteer serving in Benin, West Africa, and the profound heart break every human feels when they say "It's over". While I recognize my grit is from those days, the experience of navigating a system that didn’t understand or fully support dyslexia was isolating and, at times, torturous.
Life is full of irony, and dyslexia is no exception. I just spent the last six paragraphs describing how my youth was shaped by the challenges of my thinking style. The twist is that now, as an adult with a deeper understanding of my strengths and weaknesses, I genuinely love being dyslexic.
In my day-to-day life, it’s easy to hide my weaknesses while letting my strengths shine through. People often assume I breeze through life effortlessly, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. This perception is a direct result of my dyslexia. What people don’t see are the struggles I face: the frustration of filling out paperwork, the extra time it takes to craft a reply to an email, or the constant battle with poor executive function. What they do see is something entirely different—they see the joy I bring to others, the fresh perspective I offer in problem-solving, and the natural leadership qualities that many dyslexics possess.
One of the greatest gifts of dyslexia is the way it allows me to connect with people. Dyslexics often excel at reading others and understanding them on a deeper level, and I’ve leaned into this as one of my greatest strengths. I use this ability to bring humor into conversations—not just for a laugh, but as a way to build connections. I can talk to almost anyone, quickly picking up on their unique style of humor, which lets me form bonds and foster trust in a matter of moments. This skill has opened countless doors for me, leading to jobs, friendships, and opportunities that might not have been possible otherwise.
Dyslexia has also shaped how I approach challenges. While others might tackle problems with linear thinking, I tend to see the bigger picture, connecting dots that others often miss. This allows me to offer fresh perspectives and creative solutions, especially in situations that seem insurmountable. It’s a skill people value, whether in professional settings, personal relationships, or collaborative efforts.
The aura dyslexics carry often pushes us toward leadership. Our expansive vocabulary and natural ability to connect with people make others want to listen to us. For reasons I have yet to fully understand, when I speak, people tend to listen. They believe what I say—whether it’s true or not—and they’re inclined to follow through on what I ask. I’ve seen this phenomenon play out countless times in my life, and I’m certain it’s tied to dyslexia. Whether it’s leading a camping group into the deep woods, coaching sailors on the water, or inspiring a team to accomplish a shared goal, I consistently find myself in leadership roles.
I’ve watched situations where someone struggles to rally a group to complete a task, their words falling flat. Then I step in, say the same thing, and the group immediately responds and gets it done. I can’t fully explain why this happens, but it’s a gift I’ve come to embrace. Dyslexia has taught me how to engage and inspire, and this ability has shaped so many of my experiences and opportunities.
In a way, people often think I’m “doing life” better than most. They see me thriving in spaces where they may struggle, but they don’t see the battles I fight in areas that come easily to them. This duality is at the heart of my dyslexic experience: it’s a constant dance between struggle and strength, challenge and triumph. And while it hasn’t always been easy, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I have spent my years struggling with, learning about, and enjoying life with dyslexia. I'm here to mentor those who need help. If you want to stop struggling and start thriving send me an email (we can chat on the phone after first contact). We all deserve to understand our unique brand of dyslexia. We truly are gifts to the world.
Contact: dyslexichans@gmail.com
