Dysarthria Awareness

For a long time I was fluent in vague — a whole vocabulary built around not quite saying it. Then one day I just said it plain: I have dysarthria. I have ataxia. I have double vision. Naming it didn’t defeat me. It freed me. Here’s what happens when you stop apologizing and start owning it.

Many of us are fighting just to stay connected. Fighting to reach the people we love. Fighting to participate in a digital world where dysarthria, ataxia, double vision, and cognitive fatigue follow us into every communication tool available. The keyboard battle. The voice to text word salad. The message that lands wrong because text strips away everything that gives words their real meaning. I call it Digital Dysarthria. happening all around us every single day. It is time w

Words that once came effortlessly now come out slow, slurred, and strained. This new reality had a name I had to learn to say out loud — dysarthria. The hardest part is not the speech itself. It is the silent nod. That moment when someone smiles and nods like they understood every word, when it is completely clear they did not. That stops here. This is the communication toolkit for both sides of the conversation.