Inside the Void

It was too much to carry on my own.
My little mind was trying to figure out things I couldn’t understand. I didn’t have the words—or even know how to find the words—to explain what I was feeling or what I was experiencing, because I didn’t understand it myself.

Having my letters dance off the page was one thing, but then came something else. My chest would tighten, and at times I couldn’t remember where I was—or even who my mom was. I was in total overload. It was so scary and confusing.

Sometimes I knew it was happening, and other times I’d only realize it when someone snapped their fingers in front of my face or called my name to bring me back. It felt like I’d slipped into something strange that I couldn’t explain, like my mind went somewhere else for a moment.

When I finally got answers—when we had a name for what I was going through—I was diagnosed with dyslexia. The doctors told my parents that my case was severe, and that my brain was going into overload because of the anxiety I carried from trying so hard to understand.

As children, our little brains are like sponges—they absorb everything. And my little sponge had soaked up all it could, and then some. When it became too full, I shut down.

My shutdowns were intense. It felt like I had been hit in the head—like a sudden injury. Everything would blur, and I’d lose memory for a little while. Then, slowly, it was like squeezing that sponge back out—resetting my brain. Once I came back, I was fine again.
Back to me. Back to Brandy. Ready to learn again.

 Understanding Brain Overload in Dyslexia

For people with dyslexia—especially children—the brain can experience overload when under high levels of stress, confusion, or emotional strain. This often leads to what’s called a shutdown—a protective response where the brain temporarily “turns off” to prevent further overwhelm.

What happens during overload:

• Processing fatigue: The brain works overtime to decode words, sounds, and visual patterns. This constant effort drains mental energy faster than most people realize.
• Emotional flooding: Frustration, shame, or anxiety can flood the body and mind, making focus nearly impossible.
• Sensory triggers: Bright lights, noise, or fast movement can add to the chaos, making reading or concentrating even harder.
• Physical signs: A child might stare blankly, stop responding, cry, or completely freeze. It’s not defiance—it’s the brain’s way of saying, “I need a break.”

During these moments, what looks like zoning out or daydreaming is often a form of survival. The brain is protecting itself from too much input and too much pain.

With patience, compassion, and understanding, parents and teachers can help a child find calm again—through reassurance, breaks, quiet spaces, and gentle encouragement instead of pressure or punishment.

 Reflection

Behind every quiet child is a storm the world doesn’t see.
Sometimes what looks like stillness is actually survival.

And when that child finally finds their way back—when their little sponge of a brain has been wrung out and reset—they come back stronger, softer, and ready to try again.

Because every comeback, no matter how small, is proof of resilience.
And every time the light returns, it reminds me—
I was never broken. I was simply becoming.

✏️ Author’s Closing Words to Teachers

And to the teachers who have that child — the one who drifts off, fidgets, or seems far away — I ask you this: before judgment, take a breath.

Sometimes all that child needs is a small break.
Have them run a quick errand to the office, let them grab a drink of water, stretch their legs for five minutes in the hall, or take a quiet breath just outside the door.
Better yet, have the whole class stand, stretch, and reset together — so no one feels different or embarrassed.

You see, every dyslexic child is unique.
Some are shy, quiet, and reserved; others are bold, creative, and full of movement.
Each one learns and processes in their own rhythm.
It’s not about giving special treatment — it’s about giving understanding.

When a child feels seen, not shamed… something beautiful happens.
Their confidence returns. Their light flickers back on.
And that small act of grace from you might just be the moment that changes their life.