How dyslexia shaped my approach to design
Dyslexia is often associated with reading difficulties, spelling mistakes, and learning challenges. Growing up, I experienced all of these firsthand—and there were moments I wondered if I’d ever catch up with my peers. Fast-forward to my current role in design leadership, and I can see how my dyslexia wasn’t a barrier but a catalyst. Dyslexia trained me to think differently, empathize deeply, and find innovative ways to communicate. Here’s how those experiences shaped me into the designer I am today.
Seeing the world through a different lens
For as long as I can remember, letters on a page sometimes looked like they were dancing—or scrambled in a way that made my eyes work twice as hard. While that was frustrating for everyday schoolwork, it sharpened my ability to see patterns and shapes in a more holistic way. Rather than getting stuck on words, I focused on overall structure, balance, and composition.
Visual problem-solving: Because reading was tough, I relied on visual cues—imagining shapes, diagrams, and color-coded systems to keep information organized. This approach naturally bled into my design work, where layout, whitespace, and visual hierarchy are everything.
Big-picture thinking: Dyslexia nudged me to look at the forest rather than obsessing over individual trees. Over time, this evolved into a knack for user journeys and holistic design systems, rather than fixating on pixel-perfect details before understanding the overall concept.
Creative coping mechanisms
Like many dyslexic individuals, I gravitated toward creative outlets—art, music, doodling—any activity that let me express myself beyond the constraints of written text. Little did I know these creative “escapes” were actually training grounds for my future design career.
Experimentation becomes second nature: Trial and error was the norm. If a mnemonic didn’t work or if my sketches were unclear, I found a different approach. Today, I bring this iterative mindset to prototyping and user testing—knowing that each “failed” concept is just a step toward a better solution.
Storytelling through imagery: Because words didn’t always come easily, I relied on visuals to communicate. Whether it was explaining a school project or brainstorming ideas with a friend, a quick sketch usually did the trick. This habit laid the foundation for communicating design concepts in clear, visual formats.
Empathy as a superpower
Struggling with dyslexia also taught me firsthand what it’s like to feel excluded or misunderstood by systems that cater to the “norm.” That sense of isolation and frustration has fueled my desire to create inclusive, intuitive user experiences.
User-centric design: I’ve been on the receiving end of confusing instructions and illegible fonts—so I bring that heightened awareness to every project. If there’s a way to simplify or clarify the experience, I find it.
Listening more, judging less: Because I know what it’s like to struggle, I tend to reserve judgment. That mindset makes me better at user research—truly listening to user pain points and being open to feedback, rather than assuming I have all the answers.
Turning perceived weaknesses into strengths
Let’s face it: Dyslexia can still be frustrating sometimes. But over the years, I’ve learned to use the tools and strategies that work for me, turning many of those initial struggles into distinct advantages.
Adaptability: When reading instructions or complex documentation was challenging, I learned to navigate information differently—using diagrams, mental models, and bullet-point summaries. This adaptability lets me pivot quickly in fast-paced design environments, where project requirements change in a blink.
Collaboration skills: Dyslexia taught me that asking for help is not a weakness, but a resource. That willingness to collaborate—whether by co-creating user flows or running cross-team ideation sessions—has become core to how I lead design teams.
Problem-solving mindset: Dyslexia is a constant puzzle—finding which strategies help you decode letters or follow instructions. This puzzle-oriented mindset translates perfectly into tackling complex UX or brand identity challenges.
Advice for designers with dyslexia (or anyone who feels “different”)
Embrace your uniqueness: Your “different” way of thinking isn’t a limitation; it’s your secret sauce. Lean into the tools and methods that help you shine.
Build a support system: Whether it’s a mentor, a supportive team lead, or online communities, finding people who understand dyslexia and value diverse thinking makes a huge difference.
Advocate for accessibility: Use your firsthand experience to push for inclusive designs—fonts that are readable, layouts that are intuitive, and processes that consider all kinds of learners.
Never stop learning: Dyslexia is just one chapter in your story. Stay curious and keep refining your skills—your unique perspective will only grow more valuable over time.
Closing thoughts
While dyslexia presented plenty of obstacles in my life, it also paved the way for creativity, adaptability, and a deep sense of empathy—all traits that lie at the heart of great design. By harnessing what once felt like a disadvantage, I’ve come to realize it gave me the mental tools and emotional resilience to thrive in a field that relies on seeing possibilities where others see problems. My hope is that others with dyslexia, or any learning difference, can recognize it as a potential superpower—one that, when fully embraced, can shape not just your career, but the ways you contribute to the world.
