Living With Dyspraxia – It’s More Than Just Being ‘Clumsy’

Written for the University of the West of England as part of Neurodiversity Celebration Week 2024.

I’ve always felt ‘different’, but isn’t everyone ‘different’? I could never quite put my finger on it. Nonetheless, I was happy and achieving my goals – in my education, my career, and in my personal life. On the outside, I seemed to be navigating everyday life well and managing the challenges that life had thrown at me.

My family and friends have often commented on my ‘clumsiness’ through my childhood, but this was largely dismissed as I had been in the top set for PE at school and had a successful dancing hobby (ballet, tap, jazz and contemporary) for more than 12 years. When I first met my partner, he would often comment on how I would sometimes walk into him as we were walking along together. I just put it down to not paying attention to where I was going. But then, a colleague and close friend of mine noticed the same thing.

I became really aware of my ‘clumsiness.’ I found it difficult to manage my space and my co-ordination. I found myself walking into door frames as I was leaving a room, often dropping things, being hopeless with directions and not knowing my left from my right. I also realised that I would try to do lots of things at once that required co-ordination, whether it be performing a task or carrying items. I started to research what this might mean and came across the term ‘dyspraxia.’

I have always been interested in championing for those who are neurodivergent, so when I became an Equality, Diversity and Inclusivity Champion for the Law School at UWE, I signed up for various training sessions on how to best support neurodivergent students. I felt that I had a vague understanding of Autism Spectrum Disorder, dyslexia and ADHD. But, I had never heard of ‘dyspraxia.’

My initial research suggested that dyspraxia was simply having poor spatial awareness or co-ordination, and therefore, that meant bumping into things or dropping things. This gave me a sense of validation in that my ‘clumsiness’ wasn’t something that I could control. That’s when it became apparent to me that I was neurodivergent.

I thought it might be worth talking to my GP, so I booked an appointment. This turned out to be a waste of time as my GP said that they had never diagnosed dyspraxia in an adult before. I was asked questions about my childhood, but on reflection (with the help of my parents), it didn’t appear that I presented any symptoms of dyspraxia as I was growing up. The GP was satisfied that I was presenting symptoms of dyspraxia in my adult life and suggested I seek private support. The appointment felt like a waste of time.

A few months later, I attended another training on neurodiversity and began to learn about dyspraxia. I came to learn that it was more than just being ‘clumsy’ – something that the stereotype portrays it to be. In fact, dyspraxia can affect communication (such as pronunciation, interrupting people, repeating yourself, and not knowing how to communicate in a group setting), regulating emotions, pitching your voice, time and distance perception, memory, concentration, following instructions, and more. It also became apparent that I had masked my symptoms in my childhood as I had developed coping strategies.

This breakthrough in my understanding of dyspraxia was two-fold; on the one hand, I felt validated that my feelings of being ‘different’ was just part of who I am and was not something that I could control, and on the other hand, I felt frustrated that I had lived for 26 years without this diagnosis and therefore have had a lack of support. I felt a sense of pride that I obtained a First Class Criminology and Law degree, had been undertaking my PhD for 3 years and had been teaching 3 years despite these daily challenges in my life, but also felt disappointed that I did not receive any additional support through these milestones.

I am still navigating my dyspraxia. Having my own awareness of it, and those around me now having awareness of it, has allowed me to feel validated and supported. But, I had never met another person with dyspraxia and so I felt very alone in this journey. I didn’t know how to get support and it seemed like no one truly understood me.

And then, I joined the UWE Neurodiversity Staff Network. Meeting others who had similar challenges to me and had gone through similar experiences to me was hugely empowering and made me feel a lot less alone in a world that is designed for atypical people. I have a lot to learn about dyspraxia, and I am still yet to obtain any tangible support, but the UWE Neurodiversity Staff Network has given me the confidence to move forward with my life and be proud of who I am.