Learning to Read

The tears stream down my face as I sit here. Five years old. At the table. My mother by my side gently coaxing me to just try, just *try* to sound out the next word. "You know it," she says. "You can do it. Just sound it out for me. What's that word? What's the first letter? What sound does it make?" And I know that letter. I know what sound that it makes. I know it. But what if I don't? What is I'm wrong? What if I'm wrong? And it's better to not try at all than to try and to fail, to be a failure. What if I fail? I can't do this. I can't do this. I can not do this.

What if she hates me? The thought is completely delusional. I see that now. I know that now. It is just the anxiety brain talking. The anxiety brain that I didn't know that I had until years later. How was I to know? I was just shy, wasn't I? Just shy. That's all. But it was so much more, so much more complex than that. There is no world where I could believe that my gentle and kind mother could be capable of hating me and thinking me studpid for getting a word wrong when reading. But, that's what I did think, isn't it?

I'm crying now, five-year-old me, crying at the kitchen table. "I can't do this!" I wail at her. "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't read. It's too hard. I don't want to!"

"You can do this, Maia. What's that word. Sound it out with me. What's the fir letter say?'

"Muh muh muh," I cry.

"Yes, that's an M. And what's the next letter say?"

"Aah aah aah," I say through my tears.

"Yes, that's an A. Very good," she says calmly. "And what's the last letter."

"I don't know!" I wail. She waits. "I don't know." She waits some more. "Tuh tuh tuh," I say.

"Yes, good job. That's a T. Now put the sounds together. What does it say?

She coaches me through the whole process. The word is "mat". I know that it is. But what is I'm wrong? I'm too stupid. Too stupid. Too stupid. I'll get it wrong and she'll hate me. She'll hate me. She'll hate me. I can't do this. Can't do this. Can't do this.

Every night is the same. Every night she calmly forces me to read. Every night I get more confident, more willing, more able. And then it becomes easy. Just like that. Nothing to fear except for my brain telling me that I'm incapable, worthless, unable all over again when another something new arrives in my life.

@QuietSilence #firstbadmemory #anxiety #learningtoread